lif — Roleplayer Guild

The mantle of the divine has been ceased by mortals... The doldrums of Alefpria play for the Cosmic Knights...

After the Realta struck at the face of Alefpria, the tremendous city dwindled in its former atmosphere - a sort of disease of fear and doubt permeated the streets. Soldiers were stationed all around the city, particularly near the open sore in Alefpria's defenses known as the bay. A massive blockade was established, forts made of wood dotted the beaches and the brick layed ramp leading into Alefpria's coastal streets, that which were still being repaired from the previous incursion. All eyes in Alefpria's vast population looked to the skies, and all mouths spoke of horrible creatures of solid crystal.

Except for one person, who meditated deep within his chambers, mediated his thoughts and his senses as he found words to say to his people, reassurance to give after such a horrendous massacre. Upon the neatly tiled ground in front of him sat the slain Realta, assorted in a gruesome pile of twisted limbs and torsos. He gazed into the white skin of such creatures, narrowing his eyes at any dips or flaws in their destroyed landscapes, and then it came to him.

"These are the enemy." was comfort enough.

With just a single speech, the hearts of the thousands of sentient beings under his charge can suffer a titular shift in alignment, it was simple social physicality. Emotions were Lifprasil's domain after all; it was such an advantageous and fickle thing to have precedence over. He picked up the halved Realta, jerking it from the throws of its dead comrades as he stood to his full height, the many-bladed beast upon his waist quaking in anticipation.

It would not have its slaughter today, but some days after this, it will, Lifprasil knew this much, it would bite his enemies, and they would be slain by his rage. He stepped forward, marching through non-euclidian corridors to an open hall aligned within near perfect symmetry with the seemingly vertical cut in Alefpria's body: the Grand Road of Alefpria. This would be where his allies would meet.

Lifprasil dipped off of his perch, floating down above the crowded street below, filled to the brim with worried hearts: hearts that needed a void to be filled with the reassurance of their formerly gentle leader. Lifprasil had to change to save his people, and to make his promise of a fantastic army under his guidance a reality; he had to make himself stern.

With the sweep of an arm, the halved Realta corpse fell into the street below, causing the crowd to recoil in fear.

"Have naught fear, but stand courageous against that is your enemy," began the exalted Demi-God, speaking however gently. "This beast was created to exterminate that which is to necessitate our continued existence: ourselves, as a culture, as a city, as even a memory. These creatures were built to annihilate these things that make us, and Galbar in its entirety. As their target, we must become steadfast as their hunted, and we must strike out where they reside, and bring unto them fury that we've experienced within these past few days."

The crowd seemed tense, but Lifprasil sensed a subtle hint of joy trickling up from the bottom of their psyche. He had their attention. Soon, that joy began to fill the cup of his audience's collectivity: he influenced these people directly, for the first time he extended his power to the masses, rather than just individual people.

He was using his emotional control to inspire Alefpria.

"Soon, the gods will visit, and with them I promise unto thee an army so mighy as to defend Alefpria's sovereignty from these monsters, so I ask of those beneath me to take this time to grieve: but in due time, Alefpria will be the one to repeal this invasion, and assure the safety of you and your children for a thousand years." finished Lifprasil upon a high note, which was met with quiet, preceeded by a low drone, then followed by a tremendous cheer. Lifprasil relinquished his control, now what motivated the crowd was its own forward motion.

He lifted himself away from the roaring crowd once it ceased its cheering, and a rain fell upon Alefpria. "Be with yourselves and your family, recover from these darker days, and soon we will stoop to greater heights - my beloved people." dismissed Lifprasil as he ascended back to his palace. Back to the hall he left.

The rain fell in a thick lot, hanging over Alefpria, but rather than dampen its mood, it felt as if it cleansed away the negativity, leaving only a clean slate within its wake. A perfect meter for the gods to arrive upon.

One god in particular, of course, was- In her peculiar way- already there.

The cloaked figure seemed to glide within the crowd, those people that had yet to shelter from the rain. Those who had lost nothing but their illusions in the attack, and whose grief was not intimate but shared for the whole of Alefpria. With no such bitter edge to dull, their anger was already beginning to resound into resilience. Some of them looked up at the squat vagabond between them before they returned to their quiet talk.

No guards blocked him on the bridge- All Alefprian citizens were permitted to approach the palace. Its inner gates were more difficult. Two well-armed trolls in the bright ornaments of the palace wardens took an appraising look at the sopping wet stump of a citizen, draped with so many hoods and scarves that they must surely cover his eyes, and crossed their polearms.

There was some verbal confrontation. The charmless stranger kept edging away from the guards as he spoke, backwards and sideways, though his cloak didn't move. They insisted he at least show his face in order to enter, and in a diplomatic habit of a liar he said this was not possible. At last he consented to show them something wrapped in his sleeve, and with some discussion, they accompanied the sleazy fellow in.

As soon as they were within sight of Lifprasil himself, the trolls made practiced salutes as another set of warriors announced them, the vagabond made a bow, revealing how shrunken his whole upper body really was compared to his head, and how disproportionately tall his legs must have been.

"O Emperor of the Alefprian Nation and Territories, Divine and by Divine Right, your Most Humble Servant, Honoured he is to be in your presence, who is called by the name Dabbles, has come from the Sacred Enclave of the Great Other God, Horrible Engineer of the Sea Beneath the Sea, and been Chosen to perform His Voice." The tone changed into something less sweet, and probably more honest. "When it is pleasing to you, my liege, or perhaps when the divine cast is convened, the flesh puppeteer will direct my tongue." Dabbles stood upright and put his stubby arms together in his sleeves, head bowed in a polite show of patience.

Lifprasil was seated at the head of the table, looking out into the despondent sea of cleansing rain outside. He crossed his legs, setting his hands on a knee.

"Prosit, Dabbles, please take a seat beside me," said he, swiping a finger, and pressing a chair out of its place with a thought. "I hope you've enjoyed Alefprian hospitality. Lifprasil then said, wearing a reluctant smile, despite his mood. 

A thud was heard through the room as the body of a Goddess appeared on top of a chair near Lifprasil, "Ugh-" She grunted. Her hair was long, lavender in colour and lightly curled at the tips. Her voice was soft and comfortable to the ear and she wore a silken white dress that reached down to her ankles. She was trying her hardest to find the chair comfortable, but the way she shifted around betrayed her true thoughts of the furniture. "I can't say much about the hospitality, as I haven't been around that long, but I enjoy the happiness your plants exude."

Lifprasil looked to the formerly ditzy goddess of magic with an air of suspicion - things had changed. "You're not the Astarte I remember you being," Lifprasil greeted, he felt a tinge of reassurance at the fact, however. The former Astarte was very intent upon nearly getting his second-in-command killed.

"No matter how much you may change, you are still my friend," spoke the Demi-God of emotion, tender upon his delivery. "And whatever miscreants have wronged you are an enemy of Alefpria," he then added; alluding to her experience with Amartia. "How are you?"

Astarte smiled demurely at Lifprasil, taken aback for a moment from such a show of friendship. "I'm fine," She said before looking elsewhere, at the guards' shocked expressions. It reminded her of some of the things she'd seen around lately. And also made her want to bite them. 

For some reason, she always felt like biting mortals who were surprised to see her. 

"I don't believe your mortals are used to Gods and Goddesses, though. Are you sure they're well prepared for the meeting about to take place?"

"I am confident in the competency of mortal men and women. They won't be afraid of the awesome power of the gods on this day, but rather be amazed by it - such fantastic and unbridled power is the thing of myth, after all; and who doesn't want to see their favorite myth come to life?" responded Lifprasil, "This will be a day most talked about, I would say. he added, smiling pleasantly at the positive attitude of Astarte.

It was one of the many expressions of positivity the bastard child had in his repertoire - but this one seemed the most innocent, as if Lifprasil was just a young, lost child again. This expression was no lie, either, nostalgia, if it could be called that, was a pleasant sensation. After all, what may have been only moments apart for some of the beings attending this summit was thousands, and thousands of years for himself. If not longer.

Lifprasil decided to gaze back into his meditative state - just to see if any other gods were making their approach at this opportune time; and to gaze into his target, the tear in the universe at the top of the world, guarded by the Universal Owl he had come to know as 'Logos'.

It was an ugly mark on the fabric of reality, this rift, not nearly as expertly laden as Belvast's, and as if simple geometry, roughly guided a path between two worlds.

Suddenly, the dream was punctuated by a change in scope, he was perturbed back to his palace - but not within his summit.

There was a saying that nothing in life is free, and indeed, it was clear from the beginning that the palace that Ilunabar created for Lifprasil was a deal, not a gift. Beyond just being a cultural symbol and the most gorgeous of the wonders, it was also meant to be a connection between the goddess and the emperor, a figurative one most of the time, but not always.

Lifprasil was walking trough the halls of the palace when one of such connections was opened. Many areas of the building had gorgeous mirrored floors that almost felt water-like, suddenly, however, they became de facto water-like, and the emperor found himself diving into darkness.

Eventually, white shapes became clear, slowly forming a pure white forest. Dark snow fell from darker skies, making an unreal scenario of heavy contrast.

Only one non-monochromatic entity could be seen in this entire landscape, the goddess of dreams herself. Ilunabar looked distinctively different, not only was her outfit swapped from an extravagant garb to a discrete cape covering her whole body, but she looked oddly worried, if not tired, which was a great departure from her typically irradiant personality.

Lifparsil, upon his landing into this shaped reality, took to his knee, bowing before Illunabar, of whom had guided and helped him in these past few years.

"My Aunt of Dreams, what brings you to call me at such a time?" questioned Lifprasil, trying to hide his duress at her unkempt, terrified form.

Ilunabar stared at him for a few seconds, somewhat confused. "It was you who called me Lifprasil. But since I could not go to you, I decided to bring you to me."

Lifprasil stood, letting out a nervous chortle. "S-sorry. I expected you to join me in Alefpria. Why are you here? So far away?" he asked, looking at the distant horizon of this world of troubled fantasy.

"I believe you have already met the direct effects of Logos' arrival. The reason of why I am hiding away should also be evident." 

She stood up and walked closer to Lifprasil. "He would have arrived anyway, he always desired kingship and to cleanse Galbar of what he perceives as mistakes. But, some people have it worse, no?"

She chuckled "Like the one person who stole mankind away from him. And I would have done that a thousand times again, I do not regret it, however..." she brought her arms out of the cape, they were as soft and delicate as always "Look at these, I know looks mean little for a deity, but these are a representation of me, I'm not a fighter."

She stared the emperor for a few seconds, waiting until he opened his mouth to speak before shushing him. "And I know what you will say. Oh, auntie Ilunabar, you have allies, you have your wits."

Lifprasil nodded slowly "Yes, and you have me," he responded, curious as to the reason behind Illunabar's exile. 

Ilunabar sighed. "It was irony. I'm at wit's end and most of the people that resemble allies ask too much from me. Or are gone, like Zephyrion. Or are dead."

"So, for me, the only way to deal with all this, was the exile. Logos will want me to pay for the theft of mankind, so reality is a bit dangerous, very dangerous in fact."

Lifprasil felt crushed, needless to say.

"How long will you stay hidden? Exiled, I mean," questioned Lifprasil, pressing a hand into the handle of a blade long betrothed to him. The cusp of the rod was sharp, edged at the tip, so the sensation grounded him in the urgency of this crisis. "Alefpria wouldn't be the same without the Goddess of Dreams, you know."

"Ah" she pondered "For a while. I don't want to fight, and there will be a lot of fighting. There are also other issues beyond Logos. This is all very complicated." the cowardice was noticeable in her voice.

In her mind, every single sibling was a source of problems and a source of fear. No matter what path she took, the goddess could only see doom looming.

"Though Logos will probably find me either way. But here, I will not be immediately in the losing position. Ah, I really wish he could be gone, but that would be bad too."

She stopped walking and stood still for a few seconds, before eventually returning to herself "But worry not for Alefpriel, they can't escape my influence anyway, and reality is full of fissures I can exploit. Most of the societies are like that. Furthermore, the parade will go on, monuments will be built. I'm really unnecessary right now, my existence is limited to being the target of my sibling's ire and lack of appreciation."

Lifprasil frowned, he didn't like this turn of events.

"Tell me, how powerful is Logos? What does he look like?" he asked, "All I have is a prophetic vision of an owl and an impossible egg. As silly as it sounds, I believe my inane grip on what the Codex of Creation was allows me to see things unseen; whatever pages I have at my disposal, that is. And it's shown me visions of Logos." Lifprasil explained, wanting to share these things with Illunabar. 

"I think everyone has been having dreams of Logos, he has been making his presence known for a good while."

"He is a big, grey-white man, large wings. He is also the master of physics, and in that sense, I fear most gods are in disadvantage if compared to him. Teknall's tolls, Toun's porcelain, Ull'Yang's sun, Niciel's.... nice things. He created a planet by himself."

The muse sighed and sat on a nearby rock that was perfectly hidden among the pure white of the ground and vegetation for anyone but the creator of the place. "Even Vestec's chaos or Jvan's flesh are very physical and therefore can be broken down into atoms by him. Now, there are gods who control concepts that are beyond his reach, I think, your mother had The Mind and I have dreams, but, I don't want to fight anything, I will just get myself hurt." 

This was all, of course, the personal speculation of the goddess.

Lifprasil sat in front of her, cross legged as he thought upon the subject.

"If you are afraid, I should be terrified," he began with a low frown. "I am a demi-god, with only emotion as my true strength... But, I must do this, Galbar is my responsibility, the dignified timeline is my responsibility. I want to protect all these things, and I have to ask: don't you feel responsible for something? I've come to the conclusion that duty forebodes strength, so if I am dutiful enough in my approach, perhaps others like you can borrow my own determination." Lifprasil explained to the cowardly Illunabar.

He shifted in his seat, looking down at crossed legs. "I feel as if you should be at least a little concerned with something other than yourself and this place. Galbar needs protection." Lifprasil finished, his demeanor having stooped from worry, to fear, to sadness. 

The world suddenly came to a halt, the dark snowflakes halted midair and the trees froze in position. Ilunabar rose up again and stretched her arms up, usually, this was accompanied by the sound of her many pieces of jewelry tinkling, but now that she only wore a cape there was nothing but silence.

"My only responsibility is to inspire others, Fate told so. The dead cannot inspire or create, so I have all the right in the world to worry. Furthermore, it is futile, even if I survived confronting Logos out there, then someone else would take the crown of terror. It could be Vestec's rampage, Jvan's consumption of all or maybe Teknall will finally succeed in teaching mortals how to make gods obsolete." 

Lifprasil nodded.

"Terror cannot be ceased, no, but the need for it can be stifled, where does terror appear? With Vestec, Jvan, and Teknall, it appears from autonomy, from detachment. I think that maybe I may speak to this Logos, and make him see the wonders of this world; after my armies defeat his Realta, and he is forced to grant me audience. If not, I will kill him myself, just to show you how important these small upheavals may be. I will cease terror, however temporarily." he promised, as still as his entrapped surroundings.

"Even so, we speak of universal terror, terror that can easily step across reality to reach you. If you do not confront it, what will you do when it catches you? You cannot run forever, and the more you do, others will suffer."

"Even if killing Logos was within the realm of possibilities, then what? There will be a time when the god of logic would be needed to stop something worse and whatever happens from there onward would become your responsibility, or... you could become a new source of it, after all, Logos is full of good intentions and even Vestec thinks there are benefits to his chaos." the thought saddened Ilunabar deeply, Lifprasil was someone she cared for to a certain extent, even if she knew how thorny his path was.

"Huh? I thought I explained exactly why I exiled myself to here. Logos will follow me here, and I know that. The question is, how much is he willing to lose. I'm afraid of being hurt, but if my demise is certain, then I'm no different from any other cornered animal"

She laughed and waved her robe around a bit "If you don't understand it yet, just take a few steps back."

Lifprasil did just that, correcting his posture so that he backpedaled to a fair distance. "Alright - enlighten me, Illunbar."

On the third step back, the monochromatic land disappeared right before his eyes, turning instead into an odd wall of organic, or at least fibrous, looking metal.

Turning around would reveal a sight that Lifprasil might have sensed, but never witnessed himself, the flow of dreams, the Raka. Violent storms made of creative energy raged around him and entire dreamscapes crashed about just a few meters away from the young emperor.

However, there was something very odd about the location they were at. It surely looked like the Raka, but everything felt more *physical*. A quick glance up would reveal that the wall was, in fact, a tower, or perhaps the better word up would be "a bridge" as it was quite to notice that it went across a large planar rip that lead directly into the heart of Galbar.

The storm flowed toward the real world, yet it was blocked and filtered across the way, forming what could be called "a floodgate".

His eyes widened, watching the tumulous Raka rage against the wall that Illunabar held to protect Galbar. He was in awe at what he witnessed here, in Illunabar's phantasm.

"Is this the power of sentient creatures? Energy from the thoughts of all things? It's so immense." Lifprasil commentated, hair blown in tremendous, writhing arches from the pure, unseen force of the brilliant Raka. "Why is it targeted torwards Galbar?" he then asked, his exuberance dissipating like water to a flame.

The goddess shrugged "The need to become real is something that ranges from the lofty dreams to the creeping nightmares, so it is natural that with such a large connection, the flow will turn toward reality."

"But, there is no need to worry. I'm keeping everything in check, as long as I am fine the barriers will be fine."

Lifprasil nodded, the powerful flow of encapsulating energy pulsating, writhing in a line before him. "I see - and what if this barrier was broken? Would the immaterial become reality?" asked he, reaching out to touch the literal stuff of dreams.

"It would certainly bothersome." she smiled "To just thin the line between the real and unreal like that, to let gargantuan amounts of things that are not into the world that is. I think it would be a major hindrance for just about anyone and would surely get me on Fate's bad side, but then again, if I were to surely die, why would I even care."

He smiled, and retracted his hand. He would not touch the unreal today.

"I would care. But I see your reasoning, however troublesome it may be. I will not impede your wishes and your cares - but what do you gain from having this construct here?" Lifprasil voiced as his own, last quandary. 

"Ah, I would have done this anyway, the fissure, in reality, that is." she grabbed Lifprasil's hand and carelessly flew with him at high speeds towards Reality, going up across the many dream worlds that acted as the layers of the seal.

Fields of flowers, a large library, a cityscape lit in the night, a land made of brass and orgel and finally, an oddly empty land. The only objects were replicas of buildings from Reality, including Lifprasil's palace.

"I needed some sort of purlieu between Raka and The Real for the sake of experimentation. Of course, that would only need some small connection, not a full-time impalation of reality. The weaponization of the concept is a product of our time."

She brought Lifprasil into the palace where he could see himself and his audience in the reflection. "For example, the land behind the mirrors has always existed conceptually. It was with it that I stole the humans, after all. But now that the fissure exists, I can properly materialize it."

Finally, she sighed "It is getting a bit hard to hold you up here, though, I guess you really need to wake up? For example, you have yet to tell me why you called me."

Lifprasil was shocked, so much material to process at once - this was truly a revealing venture.

"I'm sorry if I've been slow to my point - Alefpria was just attacked by Logos' Realta, and I've called Niciel, Vestec, Astarte, and Jvan together to form an alliance, and create an army mightier than what I've already built in pretense. I was hoping you could attend in this rallying cry against Logos, but I see now the scope of his fear mongering," he said, quickly.

"In short, I would like whatever help you could spare in this regard."

"There isn't much I can do. As I said, all my resources are running dry at the moment. Furthermore, I do not see how I can help the militaristic endeavors beyond the creation of pretty uniforms, something that Alefpriel is already full of."

Lifprasil nodded. "Thank you for your consideration, Illunabar, I'll be sure to contact you again when I've fulfilled what I've set out to do," he sighed. "You may send me back again, my Aunt, and I'll leave you to your duties."

Ilunabar nodded back. "Thanks for your comprehension Lifprasil. Good luck." and once again, the floor under Lifprasil turned into liquid and the emperor found himself diving down into darkness.

Falas and Loth were already inside, watching as each respective Goddess made their appearance. Falas barely knew any of them, unsure of what to expect. She remained motionless, her fingers intertwined in nervousness. Loth, for once, was also as ignorant in the subject as Falas was. He heard the names here and there, but he hadn't exactly made an effort to find and meet every God and Goddess that made Galbar. 

As they waited, an orb of light began to form on a chair. It expanded slowly for a second, then it erupted into a pillar of white light, which quickly faded. Where the light once was now sat Niciel, her pure white wings neatly folded behind her back and her hands in her lap, one on top of the other. Her long white hair extended past her shoulders, and she wore a long light blue dress. She smiled at everyone as she appeared. "Hello, everyone. Lifprasil, thank you for sending me that message," Falas greeted them. 

Falas bolted up from her chair at the sight of Niciel. "Mother Niciel!" Falas exclaimed. Falas immediately bowed deeply, not daring to show disrespect to her, and was mimicked by Dabbles. Loth also stood up from his chair, albeit more calmly, and nodded his head toward her. "A pleasure to see you again, Mother Niciel," 

"Both of you, please, sit," Niciel responded, motioning for them to do so. Once the three sat back down, Niciel added, "This meeting is not about me, but about Logos and his attacking forces. Let us keep it that way for now." Falas nodded, replying, "Yes, Mother Niciel." Niciel then turned to Dabbles and gave him a stern look, his mimicry having not escaped her attention.

After Niciel had finished speaking to her 'pets', Astarte sent the Goddess a friendly telepathic poke. Once Niciel turned her way, Astarte smiled warmly. It was quite clear as well that she was putting in a considerable amount of effort into keeping herself planted on her seat. Niciel turned toward Astarte, who had caught her attention with the poke, and smiled back. 

Lifprasil stirred from his Illunabar-induced slumber as if nothing had happened - and it appeared as if the other attendeeds were hard pressed to notice. "Shall we begin? I'm sure Vestec's chaotic nature is causing him to be fashionably late." proposed he at the head of the table, arms and legs crossed, and facing towards the unjulating curtain of rain across from him.

Astarte nodded at Lifprasil, "It's to be expected from Vestec, I'll get him up to speed if he arrives, so let's begin."

Lifprasil took pause, waiting to see if any other words needed to be had before the beginning of this convention. Dabbles dipped his head. His chair seemed to have inched away from Niciel. "At your will, my liege."

"Very well," stated Lifprasil, attempting to shake away his incessant drowsiness.

"To bring it to a point, my friends, I want to create an army unlike anything Galbar has experienced, even more fearsome than the Realta of Logos' creation. I want to form an alliance between Jvan, Niciel, Astarte, Vestec, Illunabar, and myself all within a faction where we can use our merits peacefully to meet a mutual goal: destroying Logos' Realta, and routing him back through his portal," spoke the aspiring demi-god, his words flowing off the tongue like the serenity of a brook blue with its purest intentions.

Lifprasil punctuated his summary with a question.

"Does this sound reasonable?"

"No."

The rigid pose Dabbles had assumed in his chair had collapsed into something far less formal. His hands worked across his hoods, stripping off wraps and rags and tossing them to the floor. A flurry of faeries was rising from the folds.

"It is in intention alone that your plan has any viable chance of success. It can be done, Lifprasil. All things are possible. I just doubt that it will work." A thick layer of cloaks was pulled away from Dabbles' loaned body, revealing no head. What sat on his neck was a huge, clenched fist, black and red, the skin of a Vestecian bodysnatcher. On the left shoulder bulged an eye, and on the right, a mouth with which to speak.

The fist uncurled and displayed a huge green eye on its palm. Jvan rose from the seat and glided across the floor, pacing, not bothered to pretend this body had legs.

"Astarte." A nod. "Have you been looking for yourself?" She turned away, nodded, stopped. "Niciel." Pause. Then the palm turned back to Lifprasil, Dabbles's gloved arms gesturing.

"You have tremendous faith in mortals, little sovereign. We know that. But when Logos comes, how much are do you think you can entrust to their hands? Do you think you can save yourself behind a meat shield of your subjects?" She gestured broadly over the table. "Do any of you?"

"I've had help, Jvan. Like yours." Astarte smiled, "But to answer your question, I actually have no subjects, so I have no meat shield. I suppose a magical barrier would suffice, but it was a rhetorical question, so we shall never know."

"...Was it?" The hand turned to Astarte, curling back slightly. Then it opened, shrugged, and Dabbles slumped back into his chair. "Maybe not. Maybe I'm just looking for hope."

Lifprasil decided to interject at that.

"For somebody who relies on the strength of flesh, you have very little confidence in its ability. I don't intend to hide behind those I've chosen to assist me in this venture, in fact, I intend to lead them myself. That much was apparent in my battle against Grot," he explained, prompting an attempt to settle the doubts that plagued Jvan.

"Sentient creatures are an extension of myself, and I care deeply for them, and putting the ability to fight against the terrors of space in their hands, however few of them, is exactly what I want to do. In the end, however, I intend upon confront Logos myself."

"The terrors of space," Jvan echoed, drawing idle circles on the table with her index finger. "Have you considered becoming one?" A sigh, and a dismissive wave. "Better to have loved and lost, sweet Lifprasil, but no one has lost as much as me. It isn't... Fun. Did you know that it's my children he's coming for? If not for Teknall, millennia of work would have just... Gone. I still need to thank him." She lifted her hand from the table, quieter now.

"I can give you what you want and more, if what you want is to join me in losing it all again. I'm no saviour of the weak. Everything bleeds in the end; Only gods are unkillable. And I wonder."

"I know so, Oevadia was the cause of the Realta attack on my land, they were after her, and all those that were in her general proximity. Innocent people. Good people, of whom had no cause to be in this conflict. As for joining you in losing..." Lifprasil began, and stood from his ornate chair. "If it were with any of the people in this room, I would join them in loss ten-fold, just so the world would know my loyalty to them. And for this new threat: I will shoulder this burden by proxy."

Lifprasil paced, the armor upon his body shifting with each step, while the living blade upon his waist tightened its grip on him, past the mail that protected his flesh. He paced around the room, running hand against grooved pillars.

"No god cannot be killed, Aunt of Flesh, in my lands I hold the power that the God of Time left behind, something you wrote, and I read myself. In my charge, I now hold the Codex of Creation, accommodated in the form of a girl," gently spoke the immortal Emperor of Alefpria.

His voice was strange, it reverberated off the walls of his palace like music, straining in a way supernatural to reach his attendees.

"Your munitions are low, Jvan, but with my help, I can use the power of the biting Codex, and a fraction of your might, to not only destroy Logos' Realta and secure the safety of your children, but cease his transgressions completely; provided he does not see reason."

While Lifprasil had been talking to the others, Falas was in a bad mood. She did not like even hearing the name "Vestec", regardless of the reason or circumstances. "Don't look so moody. Vestec is a necessary evil," Loth said. Falas turned to him, surprised, and barely managed to say, "How-" before being interrupted. "I think I know you well enough to know what you're thinking, at least on a topic like this." 

Falas then sighed and replied, "Vestec is the God that threatened to destroy our home with his horrible army. How could I not hate him?" 

"You haven't even met him," Loth remarked. 

"I don't need to meet him to hate him for his actions," Falas rebuffed. 

"Fair enough. His actions are unforgivable," Loth conceded. "However, if anyone should hate him, it should be Mother Niciel, don't you think?" There was a pause to let the point sink in, then Loth continued, "Vestec's army could have destroyed everything we care about, yet Mother Niciel attends this meeting knowing that Vestec will take part in it. At the very least, we will meet this Vestec before we pass judgement on him. Is that fair?"

Falas was still displeased, but could see the reasoning behind Loth's words. "Very well," Falas said.

Niciel had been listening to the discussion between Lifprasil and Dabble, nodding on occasion. She took especially keen interest when the Codex was mentioned. Niciel hadn't thought about the Codex in a long time. "If I may interject," Niciel said, raising a hand. "Did you say you possess the Codex of Creation? How? And what do you mean by 'accommodated in the form of a girl'?"

"In the battle against Grot, a girl named Tira was involved in the conflict, with nobody to turn to, she was taken in by Lakshmi and Susa, who have cared for her since. By chance, Vowzra gave her the changed Codex before his untimely demise, and now she holds its power within her." explained Lifprasil in brief to the meeting, donning a ponderous smile.

Loth and Falas were now listening to the meeting, both confused and curious about the new development. "Mother Niciel, what is this 'Codex'? Loth asked. Niciel looked thoughtful, unsure of how to answer that question at first, but then she turned to him and said, "The Codex of Creation is perhaps the most powerful creation that the Gods have ever made. Back when the world was nothing more than a empty void, nearly every single God and Goddess added their power to it, and through it, this world and more was created. I am unsure of what happened to it after everything was created, though." 

Niciel then turned to Lifprasil and said, "I would prefer that the Codex not be used against Logos and his Realta. Not unless it is our final resort. That much power.... I dare not think of what would happen if it was being used carelessly."

"Using the Codex would be a great risk, Lifprasil. I have to admit that I'd enjoy watching the results, though. Either way, I believe we can make do with something less... Extreme." Astarte raised her eyebrow and tilted her head toward Lifprasil.

"Which raises the reason of this meeting: the founding of an army of mortals that have power above and beyond the already mighty army of Alefpria. I would only use the power of the Codex against a truly omnipresent threat, but not against the Realta. The issue that stands is that my army of fifty-thousand mortals is incapable to fend off the engines of war that Logos beset upon Galbar, but take a fifth of that number, and give them the means to do so, and we may have an alternative solution to wiping out this threat; and protecting the things we so carefully manifested upon Galbar." Lifprasil set as response. 

"May," repeated Jvan, whose focus had been keen on Lifprasil for some time now. A few things had fallen into place. One by one, her hand cracked its knuckles with its thumb. "If you're ready to send that army to its death, then I am ready to build. May their scars be many, and the blood paint freely."

Dabbles stood, and gazed out into the rain, seeing something beyond the grey deluge. "There is something else. A few things, actually. Foremost of them is something I've been waiting to give you, but I think, this time, it's better to break the surprise early. Don't you?" She looked back. "It's on its way. When we're all agreed, we can start our project there. If we can agree." A stump-armed, open gesture to the others.

Lifprasil stood not far from Dabbles, in fact, he was on the cusp of standing alongside Jvan's impromptu portrayal of herself.

"And what do you wish to bestow upon this meeting?" he asked, unphased by Dabbles's seemingly grotesque form. The bright green eye watched him from one side, blinked, and the hand flexed, stretching its fingers as far as they would go, flicking its wrist like a pianist before the keys. "I think you'll be well pleased," she said, teasingly, and somewhere behind that voice, one could hear a grin.

Astarte merely watched the exchange between Dabbles and Lifprasil. 'Was I ever that eccentric?' She wondered in relation to Jvan's cryptic behaviour, and so Astarte tried to change the topic from Jvan's cryptic message and back to the original point of the meeting.

"I'm all for the army idea. I wouldn't like to have to get involved personally in a fight against Logos or the Realta, so you can expect me to provide a good amount of help in building this force."

Lifprasil turned around.

"I was hoping you would - what do you have in mind for these 'Cosmic Knights'?" he asked, curious to see what the Goddess of Magic herself had in mind.

Vestec suddenly appeared in the room, burshing bits of plasma off of his body. "Sorry I'm late, some followers were requesting help and I can't let Teknall have all the fun. Now, what's this about an army and destructive spark?" He waved cheerfully at Niciel, bowed to Astarte and merely wagged a finger at Jvan. "You have only yourself to blame for this. If you had killed Vowzra quietly, Logos wouldn't have ever found out."

"Lifprasil, kindly instruct your father to set himself on fire at his earliest convenience." Dabbles hadn't turned from the window. "Oh, wait, no. The Realta already did that. Maybe I should be grateful to Logos after all."

"Tsk, tsk, now you're just being upset because I'm better at killing Gods than you are. Besides, aren't you well enough acquainted with being set on fire? What with the systematic execution and eradication of all your followers, creations, avatars, and things you've made. " Vestec giggled, floating upside down in front of Dabbles, who deftly continued to avoid looking in his direction. "However, for a favor I could protect you from him...and the other Gods, for two. They deem that you need to be put in check, to be judged for your crimes. Regardless, we've got an invasion to deal with. I snagged four of them recently, the other four I killed, and I can add one of them to this. I have plans for the other three."

"Vestec, do stop causing trouble with the others here. Jvan, don't provoke Vestec into doing it even more." Niciel scolded the two Gods. "We can hold this meeting without us squabbling amongst ourselves, and I suggest we do so."

"Niciel, dear, I would never cause trouble. But as you wish, poking fun at Jvan will have to wait." Vestec replied, disappointedly floating back over to the center of the room, still upside down.

Falas didn't really know what to expect from Vestec, but she wasn't expecting someone so easygoing and mischievous. "So, what do you think about Vestec so far?" Loth asked Falas. Falas was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then replied, "He's.... odd. I expected someone a bit more... evil, not this being in front of me. The more I think about it, though, the more I still hate him. He's still the one that sent an army to destroy the Valley of Peace. I'll never forgive him for that." She turned to look at Vestec again, only to find him gone.

"That's rather rude." Vestec spoke up from behind them, conspiratorially leaning in with them. He had teleported over immediately, at the mention of his name. "Assuming that I have to be like Logos to do my job. I didn't send to destroy, but strenghthen! If your Valley had never been attacked, the concept of death and war would still be a mere theory to you, while to the Realta it would be their bread and butter. You're far more prepared for the invasion now than you were before."

Loth and Falas, startled, jumped back when Vestec made his timely appearance next to them. After his justification of the army, Loth appeared thoughtful. "Hmm...." Loth thought out load. "If what you say is true... while I cannot agree with such methods, I cannot say that it didn't work." Falas was having mixed feelings about Vestec. On one hand, she wanted to strangle him. On the other..... well, she still wanted to strangle him, but she couldn't find the words to argue against Vestec. Instead, she merely remained silent fuming at him Vestec.

"My methods always work. It's your perspective that deems them monstrous. Your angels are used to death, and won't panick at the sight of it. They've seen far worse horrors in Grot than these invaders. They're hardened. Ready. Balanced against whatever other forces that they deem evil will arise." Vestec elaborated, floating around them in a circle.

Lifprasil was ready to greet his father, until the talk of Vowzra's death was presented. He didn't say anything, he just watched intently as the Gods squabbled about deals, and absent-minded threats.

Fantastic.

"Father, greed behests nothing from allies, and talking of deals lacks class. I've called on you for a mutual agreement, rather than a talk of one-sided deals. Can you manage that father? For me?" Lifprasil asked, pacing closer, and closer to Vestec, until he was toe to toe with the God of Chaos.

"Besides, I'm the one here who wants to do the fighting, you just have to give me the means."

Vestec turned his attention back to Lifprasil in an instant, completely forgetting Loth and Falas. "Tsk. You assume I have a care for class. But fine. For you, I will not talk to Jvan about saving her skin. Now, what's this army you want and how bloodthirstily insane do you want them to be?"

Lifprasil thought, pondered even, upon the idea of his great army's mood.

"I want them to be capable of mastering the chaotic nature of things, and harnessing the powers of destruction to protect. I don't want marauders, per see..." said Lifprasil, crossing his arms. "I want guardians of this alliance's things, or what they hold precedence over, not wreckers, so to speak." he explained to his father, sifting through his own thoughts.

"Well that's boring. How abou..." Vestec trailed off, looking up towards the sky light. In an instant, he was in front of Lifprasil, Chaos energy roiling off of him.

The moment stretched and blurred in time. Something was falling towards the high, clear arch of the hall's largest window with the slow grace of anticipation. On the instant that Vestec moved to respond, the illusion broke and stained glass shattered over the room.

Astarte jumped up from her seat with a gasp.

When the shock of high-pitched crashing faded into a tinkling ambience of raindrops clattering on fallen shards, Dabbles, still staring up through the next unbroken window, raised his arm and gestured easily towards the curved and ridged path of grey-brown steps that now rose steeply into the sky, seemingly unaware that someone had been interrupted. "It's here," commented a relaxed Jvan. "When we're ready."

Lifprasil tensed, and raised his arms up to brush away falling glass. That was going to be difficult to clean up.

"I see," said Lifprasil, while the guardsmen in purple all edged away from the shards of tempered glass scattered along the floor. Lifprasil, however, just stepped over it, and onto the risen steppes. "Let's see what Jvan is so eager to show us." he then announced with an inquisitive smile, nevermind the destroyed tapestry.

Dabbles nodded, and with a snap of his fingers- Relatively deafening, given their size-, he slid over the pointy mess and onto the base of the steps, then out, into the wind. For the second time, the fleshshaper was drenched. Perhaps that was useful. He was a small, light-bodied thing, and the path had no railing.

High in the heavens, something loomed, hovering on the powerful, humming groans of its engines.

"Wow," Astarte muttered once she glided over to the beginning of the steps, raising both of her eyebrows, "That's big."

Vestec looked at the ship with the air of a giddy child. "I'm getting one."

Loth and Falas stared at the ship in stunned silence, unable to believe their eyes. Loth was the more shocked of the two, realizing just how incredibly ingenious the Gods of this world could be. "Marvelous..." Loth whispered to himself.

Niciel stared at the ship, impressed. Not even she could begin to imagine how it worked.

Vast beyond measure for a living thing, the Fathership waited, easily a kilometer from end to end. Without an instant of fear, Dabbles climbed the many steps with an even legless gait, the path as thin as a hair in comparison to the metamorphosed, final form of the Ark. An airlock awaited at the peak, from which distance it was impossible to even see both ends of Father Dominus at once. The cultist waited like an esoteric concierge. "Come!"

Lifprasil heeded Dabbles' call, and followed him in an attempt to keep pace with his guide. His pace was much more frantic than the possessed person so eagerly scaling the impossible stairs of Father Dominus.

"This is very similar to your other creation, the one that produced Oevadia." Lifprasil commented, making sure to give the ground that steadily fell away from them a skirting glance, every once and awhile throughout their ascent.

"Really?" answered Jvan noncommitally. She seemed preoccupied with her own success. "Well, the one did make the other. I've been getting plenty of use out of my factory. And I think you'll enjoy the same from this one." Perhaps unwisely delaying Lifprasil's chance to enter, she made another odd bow with Dabbles' body. "Welcome to Father Dominus!"

A whirl of cloak and Dabbles was gone.

Airlocks sealed and reopened with solid, hissing snaps. High corridors congealed rather than built expanded before them, and work crews of Sweethearts jetted and whistled overhead. Many things that were clearly devices sprouted neatly from the walls and its recesses. All the architecture resembled the inside of a hollowed shell that sedentary creatures had claimed for a home. "The Fathership is an Ark, one of two. Designed and matured for mortal pilots, to protect what is fragile. It can traverse the stars at the speed of light itself. Hah!"

Sudden turns through the hangars and massive tubes led Dabbles to the ship's vast bridge. Grown into the arch of the near ceiling was a huge, glowing statue of what Father Dominus had looked like before he matured. The far wall, at the prow, was a transparent, hemispherical window, the size of a city gate. In between were devices like stringed instruments of thin tendons, pulsing drums and keyboards of teeth. Jvan spun on the spot, taking in all the fruit of her labour.

"This is it! This is the Ark. This is where our favoured mortals can be blessed and guided. Within its foudries we'll arm the Knights, body and mind!"

"I love it!" Vestec declared, scooting from place to place. "I'm so delighted you made this Jvan! There were two, you say? Won't be hard to find the other one. You'll be willing to share, I'm sure."

"Lifprasil, tell your father to shut up," said Jvan, reflexively.

"Jvan, I am currently one of the few Gods who don't want to judge you for blatant murder. I'd be nicer if I were you." Vestec tsked, idly pouring corruption into the ship. The pilot's panels took on a slimy, deep black aesthetic, glowing with stripes of green. Some of the modified levers looked suspiciously sharp.

"Uh, I'd actually like to use these things, you know," Astarte said in delight and took a sniff of one of the walls, "Do you think I could make plants here? I don't really like flesh all that much."

"You say as you walk around in a mortal form that is mostly flesh." Vestec noted, trailing a hand and corrupting as he walked. Dabbles flicked a cord with whatever was under its coats that passed for a foot, and a set of jaws locked over the delicate machinery with a sharp 'clack'. Vestec yanked his hand back, looking at Dabbles. "You could have asked nicely!"

Lifprasil gazed up, absorbing the architecture of the alien structure that was Father Dominus.

"This is all mine?" asked Lifprasil, bending a knee to run a finger along the floor beneath him. 

"Yours!" Jvan threw back her hand and cackled. "And your army's. Take care of it, now; I have my own to keep busy with." Sliding into the engineer's pit, Dabbles began strumming the finely tuned strings, delicately tapping the stretched surfaces.

Streams of colourfully glowing particles were ejected into the air, and the vast viewing walls turned opaque. The hovering plankton arranged themselves into a ghostly shape of a nude Lifprasilian warrior.

"My last adjustment to this Ark was a wing of self-assembling industrial equipment. It was a crude work, and it will collapse over time, if you don't maintain it with your own power. But you will have your ten thousand from it. Now we configure them."

Dabbles turned to Lifprasil, holding a sealed metal tube with a single, flickering red slit of light. "A resource has recently come into my possesion, ideal for the Emperor of Alefpria." More accurately, it had been shot at her from orbit. "A... Certain agent has devised a material of much the same type as the Ark itself is constructed from- Arksynth. It's designed for human experimentation. Your Knights will be clothed in it. Like Teknall teaches craftsmanship, it is a means by which any mortal may follow in the footsteps of my divine art. Even though I craft them, your army will be its own, subject to its own mistakes, its own science and modifications."

"...And where would one find this...material of yours?" Vestec inquired innocently. An atmospheric port opened in the wall unnoticed, and a second, far smaller tube was promptly ejected in a burst of steam, smacking Vestec in the side of the face. "Thank you!" Vestec called as he tossed it into the Realm of Madness, protected by a bubble of Chaos energy.

There was a sparkle in Lifprasil's eyes, as if something had clicked within his trouble cerebrum. He extended his arms forward, immediately forcing a wreath of protective flesh over the warrior's body. Dabbles measured the specifications of the proposed change from his pit of flesh, and whistled from the shoulder. Numerous Sweethearts began whistling on the air, biting into control ports, fussing over Astarte and Vestec with chittering giggles. Even in a limited body, Jvan's knowledge of her own architecture was complete, and as Lifprasil adjusted the hologram, the engineer became a blur of vibrating cords and tapping fingers. A one-man crew, architect, and draughtsman, superhuman by experience alone.

Lifprasil then replaced the old flesh, exchanging mortal musculature for strength that could only be contained by the harsh, fibrous outer layer he had applied to the prospective Knight. Lifprasil envisioned destructive force unseen by even Logos' Realta, or even the Ogres of the Venomweald, masterful creatures of annihilation and protection to be pointed like a spear towards Logos' nest.

He ceased, however, realizing there were other people in the room.

"The plans are not yet finished, and leave much to the imagination." Lifprasil said, inviting the other gods to add to the still pliable draft.

The invitation fell on deaf ears when it came to Astarte, as she was busy giggling and playing around with the Sweethearts currently swarming her. At one moment, though, she yelped and flew straight up, phasing through the ceiling and out of sight. Dabbles' shoulder eye followed her in a startled glance, but was forced to concentrate on his work.

"Oooh! Ooh! I've got it!" Vestec darted over, regretfully leaving the Sweethearts all around him, hands moving a mile a minute. In a short moment, he had the new knights looking like mini-Grots. "Whoops. Wrong design." He erased it, adding things to them and erasing them as he mused. "Hmmm. Too many spikes. Too much murderous rage for some people's tastes." He looked pointedly at Lifprasil. "Too much weight. To little power...they're missing something...I've got it!"

At that moment, Astarte flew in through one of the walls, straightening out her dress and shuddering.

 Vestec disappeared, reappearing in an instant with a wriggling Ashling in his hands. The human ashling was panicking, begging Vestec for mercy. "Lord of Chaos, please! I have served you faithfully! Slain your enemies! Spread your word! What have I done to deserve this!" Vestec looked down in surprise. "Oh. You're sentient. Oh well." The rest of the repetitive pleas were ignored by him as he examined the thing's essence. "There it is!" With a shattering sound, Vestec ripped him in half, tossing the bits of glass to either side as he cupped the essence. Dabbles picked up a shard that fell near him and flung it back. 

 "Versatility. That's what they were missing." He tossed the essence into the design, watching as it spread all throughout the body, like a blood system throughout. He idly caught the glass shard, throwing it back towards Dabble without a second glance. 

 "There! Now they can change their bodies like Ashlings!" Vestec stared for a minute. "....They also may be prone to bouts of uncontrollable murderous rage." Vestec shrugged. "That's my bit. Back to the adorable heart things."

 He flew over to the Sweethearts, cooing as he pet them.

"... That human seemed nice, I hate it when you do things like that, Ves." 

Vestec tilted his head at her, scratching a Sweetheart. "Nice by what standards Astarte dear? He tortured children, slaughtered women, and killed innocents. By most standards he was a monster. Rule number one about mortals. They're always nice and evil by someone's standards. I enjoyed him as a follower. Niciel here probably hates him. Rule number two. Your favoured mortals you can protect, and even enrich them. The rest are expendable and will die. Why not make them die in a good cause? A fun cause? Something that will give their short lives purpose."

"Astarte, tell your toy-boy that he's a hypocrite," let slip Dabbles absent-mindedly.

Vestec shrugged. "Never claimed I wasn't, Jvan dear. But what brought this conclusion about?" Dabbles hurled back the slice of glass.

Astarte sniggered, "Toy boy," She bit the tip of her tongue and punched Vestec playfully on the shoulder.

"Yes, yes my dear. I expect that nickname will never go away." Vestec giggled, flicking the glass at Dabbles again. "Cute but not an answer my dear Jvan. Or are you going to play the silent game with me? Should I ask Niciel to answer for me?"

Lifprasil sat between the bickering two, watching the shard of glass make flight between Dabbles, and Vestec. "I feel as if Vestec's point is relatively sound, however cruel he was to somebody who trusted him. Those who commit crimes must be brought to justice for their transgressions against those innocent." stated Lifprasil, spouting off his usual bout of social critique.

"That so?" Dabbles had been holding the glass between first and second finger, but his hand was shaking. The shard was crushed between thumb and index. "Don't make this harder for me than it already is, Lifprasil." She was whispering. "Please. Respect who I am." A thin whine sounded from the control booth, and Dabbles virtually spun between his work.

"I just grabbed him randomly. Could've grabbed an innocent Ashling dog just as easily." Vestec idly replied, watching Jvan.

Lifprasil's stance on the subject dwindled out of Vestec's favor.

"Sorry, my Aunt of Flesh."

"Ooooh. I think someone's maaad." He sang out, getting close to Jvan. "Who exactly ARE you, Jvan dear? The destroyer, like me? The conqueror, like Logos? The crafter like Teknall? The protector, like Kyre? The Artist, like Illunabar? The healer like Nicie-" He stopped, looking over at Niciel as she spoke up. 

"Vestec, I believe I told you to stop antagonizing Jvan," Niciel said, looking down at him with disapproval. "And Jvan, it's not nice to call people 'toy boys', even if he does seem fitting for that name." "It is amusing though." Vestec remarked. 

He held up his hands placatingly. "I'll have you know, I never start anything with our precious little murderess over here. She despises me for some reason, and tries to insult me. As if I have pride like Logos to be insulted."

"I don't care who started it, I want both of you to end it," Niciel said sternly, folding her arms across her chest. "You will both apologize to each other, NOW."

Vestec shrugged, glancing back at Jvan. "Why do you hate me. I imagine if we figured that out, apologizing would be easier for you. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I critiqued your style of murder. It was very...theatrical."

Dabbles's stumpy arm smacked a whorled node in his booth, harder than his ordinary mind would have allowed. Jvan withdrew her left fist, bleeding through its wraps, as an opaque black dome unfolded over her control pit, sealing her out of view. Waves of darkness passed over the holographic warrior, and after a brief power failure, it reappeared in a line of eight others in various species and styles. They flicked through alternate configurations with distracting speed.

"Father, cease this madness, before Jvan kills her envoy in anger and collapses this entire agreement." Lifprasil warned, reaching out, and setting a hand on Vestec's own.

Vestec shifted, his colors flashing in brief confusion for a moment. "Fine. I'll keep quiet. Stealing these adorable heart things though."

Astarte stared emptily at the eight quickly alternating configurations of warriors. Her face showed nothing but confusion at the things going on in the room. She'd never seen things like that before. How an image of a mortal could change so quickly with no divine intervention was beyond Astarte's understanding. 

After a moment, she frowned and scrunched up her nose. 

"I'll just throw my bit in," She said while raising her hands towards the eight figures. It was with no delay that her hands flashed a bright white and transferred some of her energy to the area the figures occupied. Energy that, when put into a living being, would bolster their soul into such a level of power that changing the course of a battle with their mere intentions would be within their reach. 

She also made it so that they liked eating flowers and added a predisposition toward taking gardening up as a hobby.

"Let's hope that the modification reached the new soldiers."

There was no way to tell if Jvan had heard, but one of the holograms, the pink-blue ogre, gave Astarte two thumbs up.

"Pleasant," commented Lifprasil, perusing the interface.

He stopped, and inspected the eight figures, again. "To be truthful, the amount of variety would prove hard to modify with the Arksynth. We need a simpler jargon to this project," Lifprasil then said, bringing all eight creations to a synthesis. Taller than any other  Lifprasilian, yet retaining the nimbility of a human being, the Cosmic Knights had a uniform shape.

However, something strange happened. Flowers appeared on the surface of the two remaining knights, both identifiably on either end of the gender spectrum.

"Even living machinations of war yield fruitful growth in the form of strange fauna, bred from current disposition." added the Immortal Emperor of Alefpria.

"Hmm, I wouldn't trust anything that grew off of them. Likely to be fed on blood and poisonous, given their disposition." Vestec replied, still cooing over the Sweethearts. He had already surreptitiously  tossed a few into the Realm of Madness, protected by small cages of chaos energy.

As the others altered the two figures, Niciel pondered her options. There was plenty she could do, but the problem was that her ideas were just a jumbled mess in her mind. There was nothing she felt sure of. As she stared at them, however, pieces began to fit together in her mind. Niciel closed her eyes as she concentrated, letting her thoughts develop and merge together to create an epiphany. 

Niciel opened her eyes, ready to implement her idea. Niciel cupped her hands together and concentrated. Four small revolving orbs of energy formed in her hands, each one a different color: Yellow, Blue, Pink, and Green. Niciel then split the yellow, blue, and pink orbs apart to form two of each, and sent one of each towards each figure. The orbs were absorbed into them, and three orbs then appeared around both of them, the orbs revolving around them at shoulder height. The orbs kept randomly alternating between yellow, blue, and pink, with no indication of stopping. 

Niciel turned her attention toward the green orb that was still in her hand. Niciel stretched her hand out, sending the last orb forward, which stopped between the two figures. It stayed there for a second, then two tendrils of energy extended from the orb, each connecting with the two figures and creating a tether between the two. The tether soon dissipated, leaving only green sparkles that soon faded.

Niciel sighed in satisfaction, her work finally finished. "It's done," Niciel said, smiling proudly. 

Lifprasil blinked. No additions were visible.

"Niciel, what did you do? I don't see any difference between the two, set aside the oscilating orbs." he said, blankly staring at the shimmering, holographic Knights before him.

Niciel nodded and said, "Allow me to explain." With a wave of her hand, the orbs that had been constantly changing color were suddenly forced to become yellow. "These orbs grant different abilites to these Knights depending on which colors they are. Holy Orbs, the yellow ones here, grant speed and strength to them." With another small wave of her hand, the orbs then changed to pink. "The Pure Orbs, the pink ones, allow the Knights to heal at an increased pace," Niciel continued. Another wave of her hand, and the orbs finally changed color to blue. "The Barrier Orbs, the blue ones, create a barrier around the Knights, which will allow them to withstand damage they normally wouldn't be able to."

"The most important orb I added, though, is this one," Niciel revealed, placing her hands together. A tendril of green energy appeared from each of the two Knights, which then connected to form a tether between the two. "This tether connects two Knights together, allowing them to share the power of the current orb the other is using. For example, one Knight would be using the Pure Orbs, while another would be using Holy Orbs. Both of them would gain the benefits of both orbs. Unfortunately, the tether can only extend a short distance before it breaks, and anything that would block the tether would break it as well." On that note, the tether quickly dissipated, as well as the orbs.

Lifprasil nodded, cupping his chin in a hand.

"Impressive," said Lifprasil, nodding his head. He stayed seated, cross-legged in front of the holographic display. "This bond is shared by how many Knights within their general proximity?" he asked.

"All Knights should be able to make a tether, but a tether can only be created between two Knights and no more," Niciel answered.

"My, my. This is quite the force of nature we've created." Vestec noted. "With this army, one could destroy the entire world in a moment. Or establish an empire in a matter of weeks." He looked at his son. "Fortunately for you, I'm taking some of these shiny warriors from you so you don't have it too easy. Empire building requires things after all. The blood of soldiers, the sweat of masons, and the tears of the conquered."

"Save it for after the campaign against Logos. Then go back to your scheming." Lifprasil requested.

"Maybe try not to fill too many rivers with tears though, heh," Astarte chuckled and bit her tongue lightly. She looked in Niciel's direction and floated over to her side, "I like the orbs, they're very pretty."

As though her words had jinxed it, several vents from which the sharp specks of light composing the schematics had originally flowed re-opened. Both figures bowed, and the airborne plankton were siphoned back into the veins of Father Dominus, the orbs joining them in the spiral of fading stars.

"Hey! Where are they going?" Astarte asked, stretching a hand toward one of the leaving orbs a second too late.

Without the colourful display of potential, the bridge felt oddly empty. The number of sweethearts in the room had lessened noticeably, and not just for Vestec's idle theft. Sad little hoots accompanied the remaining crew as they fled into shelters and maintenance tunnels. Four deities and two angels could not fill the vast hall made for many.

Every breath echoed. This ship yearned for a crew.

"Uh-" Astarte began.

"The divine magic is being harnessed," interjected a voice, distinct but not loud, solemnly authoritative- The Fathership's telepathic broadcasting mechanism. "When all are ready, the onboard manufactory will assemble and your harvested energy will be channelled into the necessary machinery."

A curved disc rose from somewhere, like a tarnished jellyfish. Four indented handprints lined its bell. "Your respective individual touch is necessary to initiate the process. Note that this will occupy most of the ship's systems for several seconds. Some disruption may occur."

Lifprasil stood up with a sigh, setting his hand on the estranged creature, his armor retreated - exposing his hand to beset the bell and invest his Might into his army.

"Disruption, huh..." Astarte shrugged and put her right hand on the imprint which best fit her palm.

Niciel look at the handprints, then looked at her own hand to determine which of the prints was meant for her. After a brief moment, Niciel determined which one was hers and placed her right hand onto the print, nodding in silent approval.

Falas could only stare at wonder as the Knights were being created. A collection of Gods and Goddesses were working together to create possibly the most powerful beings on Galbar, minus the Gods and Goddesses themselves. She couldn't even begin to fathom how much power was used to create them. She turned to Loth to get his opinion, but was stopped by his facial expression. Loth appeared... troubled. 

"Loth? What's wrong?" Falas asked. Loth, shaken out of his thoughts, turned to Falas, then answered, "It's these Knights. It is clear that they are meant to be incredibly powerful. Enough to turn back Logos and his army? Perhaps."

"So what is the problem?" Falas asked. "Isn't being that powerful a good thing?"

"Not necessarily," Loth replied. "Perhaps I may just be paranoid, but imagine if this power were to fall into the wrong hands. By Logos himself, for example. Imagine that power being used on this world. I doubt there are many forces in this world that could even survive such a catastrophe."

Falas paled in fear as she realized the implications of what Loth was explaining. Then her reasoning took over, helping to calm her down. "It-it should be ok, right? I mean, Mother Niciel's watching over them. A-and the other Gods here won't let such a thing happen, right?" Falas then looked over at Vestec, then added, "Well, most of them."

Loth had more to add, but seeing Falas's reaction, he decided that it would be better not to exacerbate it. "Perhaps you are right," Loth said. "I may simply be overcomtemplating things."

Vestec chuckled, glancing over at Falas and Loth. "You're both missing something quite important. Lets say, for a moment, that your precious Mountains hadn't aligned with Lifprasil. Lifprasil wants them under his empire. But he can't afford the costly siege. So he decided to give up and wait for a better opportunity." Vestec waved a hand towards the console. "A better opportunity has arrived. Anyone who doesn't take the hand will be pinned beneath the heel."

He reached for the disc, placing his hand in the print. 

From within, a glow outlined the four hands that rested on the key. Like water in a crevice, it flowed out over the hidden lines of the device, becoming amber, white, yellow and red, tracing delicate symbols on its surface. Below the bell of the disc, a stronger light bloomed.

Four streams of brilliant energy swirled from the key into the floor, intertwining into one pulse of magic that spilled around their feet and ignited the hull with its humming warmth.

As the light faded deep into the shadows of Father Dominus, the key ceased to shine, though the symbols remained. A crackle and a burning hiss pierced the room, and the dim lighting flickered, weakened, then disappeared altogether. Thin veins of steam burst and fizzed hot fluids over the controls. In the distance, a creaking noise, impossibly loud, followed by continuous booms and clangs.

Gravity disappeared and the four gods felt a faint upwards lifting- But the Ark had no artificial gravity to remove, nor had they ever left Galbar. The ship was falling.

The bridge tipped forwards as Father Dominus began to enter a nosedive. Behind them, above and then all around, concussive ringing noise as distant machinery snapped into place. Arcs of lightning discharged over the vaulted ceiling, blinding in the darkness, and the sound worked on, grinding like the spokes of mountainous gears choking on one another. A slow ripping crack, like a joint breaking, as the hull began to shudder- An explosive snap that tossed everything into a quaking blur- Straining metal-

One of the visceral groaning reverberations raised its pitch and the engines fired again, throwing everyone to the ground as the Fathership stopped dead. Vast windows turned from black to transparent, revealing a view of the Ark as tilted but hovering, slowly backing into upright position over Alefpria. The cacophony continued, dwindling without disappearing, until the hull no longer quaked.

Several sweethearts dislodged from their tunnels by the event recovered quickly and seized up broken tendons, binding things back into place, and were soon followed by many more. The black membrane over Jvan's control pit retracted, and a still-possessed Dabbles crawled out, looking none too well and yet still somehow pleased.

"It's done," announced the lone engineer raggedly, reaching for the fallen disc. It was a little big for Dabbles' frame now that it no longer levitated, but the handprints still glowed. "This," he addressed, looking around for wherever Lifprasil had ended up in the chaos, "is a key. The manufactory can be unlocked and activated with it as you please, at least before it runs down. You may handpick the Cosmic Knights at leisure." The palm glanced around, checking for the rest of the contributants.

Vestec swayed as the factory was brought to life, keeping his balance and watching amusedly as the mortals struggled. "My, my. And I thought I was the one who had a penchant for theatrics." He giggled, seeming to melt into the thrashing Father Dominus.

While everything was in chaos, Vestec was busily copying the design and throwing it into the Realm of Madness, safe in a bubble of Chaos energy. He would need it later.

Lifprasil grasped the Key, and then pressed it to his chest, melding the device to his armor in a wavering embrace. The frilled Jvanic landscape contrasted well with Niciel's own handywork, and within his armored chest, the key pulsated with a strangevity not unlike the Blade of Chaos.

"Thank you," stated Lifprasil. "This will be pensive work, changing the face of Galbar." spoke he, and with a shrug of his hand, pressed one bout of tremendous might into the figure of Father Dominus. Distantly, the groaning quietened, and broken mechanisms in the pilot booths were regrown.

Lifprasil moved past Dabbles, to what appeared to be the new bridge of the facility, his clawed shoes clattering silently against the risen, chitin steppes of Dominus. "Let us see my machinations given life, the first three Knights crowned Cosmic of Alefpria - the Wardens Three!" exhumed the Demi-God, along with another burst of might.

Using one Might, three empty, but living husks rose from the construed tendons, pieced together by animated limbs into figures of sleek, deadly design. The first to be created was slender, draped in a glowering cape of flesh. The second to be created was also slender, but the additional aesthetic stood at his waist. The third had as if a great coat on, with the exclusion of his arms, the last Warden Triplet was as if a butcher.

None of the Three Guardians of the Lord had eyes, rather, they had narrow slits formatted around their tremendous horns, juxtaposed by an eerie fluorescence; that which gravitated out of their seemingly featurless mouths, agape with their first, aligned breath. They would be eternally coalesced as one.

"Now I, Lifprasil, Emperor of Alefpria, have declared war on Logos," said Lifprasil, hovering down to the center of the three monsters he had just created.

Each one was accomodated with massive weapons, hunks of serrated blade that stood twice as tall as they, and just as wide, and with a girth that barred them from any class of weapon ever admonished on Galbar.

"Careful. Distance-indirect construction taxes the manufactory's lifespan more heavily," murmured Dabbles, poring over a swarm of hovering lights without any real objection.

The Triplets each grasped their weapons with some difficulty at first, but eventually, they raised their weapons within one hand, harkening them over their broad shoulders, and ceasing them in a pyramid formation over Lifprasil.

"I will march on him within thirty days and nights, and my legions will follow, along with my Cosmic Knights. Any questions?"

Vestec looked at Lifprasil, giving the distinct impression of a raised eyebrow. "You're going to march your legions against his Realta? Even with the Cosmic Knights, they're going to get slaughtered. I have a better idea. Bring them to a location. Draw all of them into one area. Trap them there, and then unleash your shiny new killing machines upon them."

Vestec paused, then gave a malicous cackle. "I even know a lovely city which will just be perfect for such an event. Xerxes is lovely this time of year."

Lifprasil raised a brow. "What is Xerxes? My scouting legions haven't accrued such a name from their travels." he said, oblivious to its existence, or its alignment. Jvan stepped in.

"It's a fairly young city, but very large, by current standards. The coastal capital of the unitary tribes of Amestris, a nation located on the Purple Sands, north-east of Shalanoir." He seemed to be giving the Wardens a thorough inspection, measuring their limbs and flexing their joints without fear of their hefty armament. "It's rather similar to Alefpria, at least in principle. Built on the individual efforts of many mortals. Founded by a demigod, the Énas Amartia." A faint, smiling note rested on that name, obliviously hanging in the air.

Lifprasil raised a brow. Astarte winced.

"When I found it, I blessed him with a palace, though perhaps not much like your own. Since then, however, the city has been attacked by both Vowzra and Logos." The stumpy fleshshaper sighed. "I have no more surviving agents there. Last I heard, Amartia had been kidnapped by the Riddler and spirited away. I could not find him in Chronos. Word has it that in his absence and the wake of the Realta, a crisis of anarchy and famine has emerged."

"He's returned. Sold out to Logos too, the ungrateful swine. Has an army of three hundred Victors. Not sure what else he did after that. I do know that he's agreed to murder every child of Jvan he finds and I'm sure he's heading home to Xerxes." Vestec looked over at Jvan, tilting his head. "What is it with you and showering my children with gifts. Lifprasil has all those fleshy troops and horses and palaces, Amartia his own palace. What's next? Are you going to give Maeus his own fleshy brewery?"

"Maeus," mouthed Dabbles quietly, noting the name without answering.

"And where is Amartia? If he is an agent of Logos, I'll be sure to confront him, however, what about the city? A Realta attack would surely be devastating." enquired Lifprasil, crossing his arms.

However, nestled within his voice was a lack of adversity to Vestec's proposed plan.

"With all due respect, nibling cousin of mine," said Dabbles, testing the edge of a sword on his index finger, "You know more about cities than any of us. The Knights are yours; What lives and what burns is in your hands now." A shrug. "I think I can trust you to stand against total annihilation."

"Very well," said Lifprasil.

"I will march a fraction of my Cosmic Knights upon Xerxes, and when within Xerxes, their presence will act as a proper lure for the Realta. With Father Dominus flying overhead, the remaining Cosmic Knights will rain from the sky, and wrestle the reins of dominion from not only Amartia, but the oppressive Realta." then explained he, stepping past his three guardians. 

Dabbles patted the Warden's kneecap and shuffled off to join him, mouthing more than speaking. "Excellent."

From up here, he could see all of Alefpria, puddles blinking in the growing sunlight. No, this had been a prudent investment. Whatever happened, Jvan would not regret creating what it had. Logos had not defeated the All-Beauty. This was just the beginning.

"One last thing, Lifprasil," said Dabbles softly. "Logos... Did not restrain himself to simply razing my work. There is a garden of life, a deadly Sea Beneath the Sea, which some call the Gap. It is mine. I have protected it for long years, and protected Galbar from it. It used to be that I did that just by monitoring it for intrusion." He looked at the Emperor. "...Recently that's changed. My role as the Bastion has taken on a more literal meaning. If Galbar is consumed by the Other, know that it was Logos who destroyed me."

The Sculptor's wrist swivelled suddenly, Jvan's vivid green eye boring into Vestec's mask, pointing with index finger. "You," said he, "are not off the hook." A bow to Niciel, a friendly wave to Astarte, and with that the eye glazed and the goddess was gone.

Dabbles' body stood silent for a moment. Then he blinked, realised his veritable nakedness, and yelped. "Oh- Oh, please! Your Lordships, forgive-" His little stump-arms flailed to pull the hoods back over his hand, tangling himself- "this- most terrible Impropriety- my deepest and truest apologies-" Swaying from side to side as if the ground was slippery, Dabbles dove handfirst into the engineer's pit to escape notice. There were crashing noises. "So very sorry!- A thousand curses- My idiot brain- Di- Dup- Nuh- Ap-"

The Fleshshaper dissolved into blips of half-formed words in various tones of distress and embarassment, tidily removing him from the conversation.

Lifprasil sighed, and smiled. He would let Dabbles recover within Father Dominus, as if the embarassed herald of beauty would mind.

"Thank you all, this summit foregoes an alliance against Logos, and those that would threaten the sovereignty of creation. Stay or go, it is of no consequence, however, Astarte, I would like to set you aside for another ambitious project; if you're up to the task." Lifprasil closed, waving away his greater Knights. They seemed to wordlessly understand the whims of the Emperor, pacing forward, and past the Gods as if they were naught but objects; rather than grand creations of Amul'Sharar.

"Ah, me?" Astarte stood straight at pointed at herself with a raised eyebrow, having been torn apart from her curious staring of the Fleshshaper by Lifprasil's request, "Sure, Lif." Astarte smiled.

And so it began.

-Lifprasil broods angrily
-Decides to show the people of Alefpria that the Realta are the enemy
-Uses emotional control to calm them for the first time in a very long while
-Enter Dabbles, a dude with a hand for a face, he is Jvan's envoy
-Enter Astarte, Vestec, Niciel, along with Falas and Loth
-They speak for a while, Lif is happy to see old friends
-Suddenly, he's spirited away by Illunabar, who tells him of her own project, and chickens out of attending the summit.
-Lifprasil wishes Illunabar the best, returns, and then Father Dominus flies overhead Alefpria
-Dabbles takes the summit to Father Dominus, now possessed by Jvan herself
-The Cosmic Knights are created via a holopad
-Lifprasil lays the groundwork, they're stronger, faster, and more durable than a vast majority of what already exists on Galbar (1 might spent)
-Vestec then adds more strength and durability, and spontaneous bouts of bloodlust
-Astarte makes them gardeners, and gives them powerful magic (1 might spent)
-Lifprasil creates Cosmic Flowers, that which grow on the Knights, before, or after their demise
-Niciel adds orbs that allow the Cosmic Knights to make themselves even stronger, faster, or self heal (2 might spent)
-Jvan finalizes the design, with added jet boosters (NYOOOM NYOOM -AT)
-A large part of Dominus' internal workings become a Cosmic Knight factory (1 Might from Ovaedis spent in earlier modifications)
-Lifprasil uses one might to hold him together (1 Might spent)
-Lifprasil creates the Wardens Three (1 Might spent)
-Vestec tells Lif about Xerxes, and who runs it
-Lif highlights a plan based on Vestec's idea to take Xerxes, bait the Realta, and possibly bait Amartia. Think three birds with 10,000 jet powered stones
-Dabbles then has his own mind returned to him and is embarassed forever
-Then Lifprasil tells Astarte he has one more project to work on
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