Timemaster

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

The Hero Chronicles

Races Galore, Heroes? Way More!

The Wolven Menace

HAHAHAHA! Let me tell you a story about a wolf and a human combination…or better said, a werewolf. Let me tell you the story of how a werewolf was able to rise to the status of heroic menace on Galbar. The hero wolf. The one for whom all are food. Gluttony incarnated. He who all wolves bow to. The Alpha. The Pack Leader. The WHITE WOLF. And the titles could probably continue for a while but I’ll let you decide what you want to call him.

Without further ado’, here’s the beginning of the story of how one werewolf raised to this status.

Far away in the wild, on the other side of Galbar, beastfolk of all kinds found themselves and stuck together for survival. Even with the river and the godly gift of life, food was scarce. There were many. Too many folk. Between the ever present goblins and the beastfolk, it was just not enough for everyone. Even with farming being brought over by the Snouters, there were still power struggles. The bigger beastfolk would take from the smaller, the strong from the weak, the cunning from the fools. One would eat today only for the next day to be eaten by someone else. The never ending cycle of death and rebirth.

Unfortunately for the weak nothing could be done. Such starts the story of the one that will be known as the menace of Galbar. This beastfolk was weak, the weakest of the bunch. Not because they couldn’t hunt or run fast enough, no-no, he was weak because of how they were born. A fur whiter than white. A natural defect, an albino werewolf. As such, they were shunned by their peers. Shunned and thrown away from any pack they wanted to join and we all know what happens to wolves that don’t have a pack…they wither and die. Slowly. Very slowly. Alone. Hungry.

This werewolf was called: Luna Mortis.

Luna was initially kept separate from the other beastfolk from his broodmother but as his whiteness became more obvious and harder to hide, the other pack members shunned his family to the point where eventually…Luna was abandoned far into the desert. Alone in the vast, unforgiving desert, Luna faced the harshness of the arid landscape. The scorching sun beat down upon him, and the shifting sands presented a different kind of challenge. Luna, with his distinctive white fur, found solace in the moonlit nights when the desert cooled, and the stars painted the sky.

He struggled to find sustenance and as days turned into agonising weeks, and hunger gnawed at his insides. The werewolf, now weakened by starvation, roamed the dunes in search of prey. Not caring about what he can eat…as long as he will eat.

In the depths of despair with only the primal instinct of survival in his mind, Luna stumbled upon a group of beastfolk that looked almost as bad as he did. Drawn by the scent of desperation, Luna descended upon them. Claws and teeth tore through their unprotected skins, even as the group offered promises of food and safety if only he lets them live.

After Luna was done, nothing remained to bear witness to the carnage he left behind, nothing but pools of blood which were quickly evaporating. Now, satiated from his hunger...temporarily, Luna searched his memories for what his prey were saying. Food, shelter, safety. North. With a goal in mind and his nose ready to find more food, he ran as fast as his legs allowed him.

North. Towards food and the goblin states.

Kings and Killers: A Classical Fantasy Adventure (Chapter 1)

Flames. Screams. Moans of the soon to be dead. The crackle of burning wood where the torches which lit the room fell on the ground. All this and more could be heard from every direction. Luckily, there were now a few more holes in the tavern which allowed the smoke to clear out.

Not that it mattered for the party…being as busy as they were to stay alive.

The two tattooed assassins kept chanting their deadly spell with each passing minute bringing death’s cold embrace closer, as our party members fought off the bladed assassins.

Lapis threw her dagger at one of them but missed, laughably, as the distance between them was just too great. The dagger stuck itself somewhere in between the distance with a loud THUK.

Dal managed to injure the first assassin, fueled by his anger of losing a new friend and just as he wanted to attack again, the assassin:

roll

1d20+1 = 8 + 1 = 9 = Fail

Tried to strike him with his blade, ‘alas, Dal pulled his body out of the way a mere second before the blade would’ve claimed his life. Unfortunately, on the other side of the room, Arthur wasn’t as lucky. The second assassin closed the distance between the two faster than lightning and raised his blade to strike:

Roll

1d20+1 = 9 + 1 = Minor Success

And managed to deliver a glancing blow to Arthur, a mere cut, nothing too dangerous. It looked like Fyr was now ready to make his move while the shadowed leader watched from a safe distance the battle, trying to pick out the most dangerous or weak member of the party to take out.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

The Pilgrim’s Caravan

The Giant Galaxor & Merry Band

Undead Hunting

As Galaxor made his way up the Caravan and towards where the undead tombs were told to be, he started singing a merry tune.

“Ho-ho, heave-ho, in the forest so deep,
I'm the giant of might, with promises to keep.
Through the darkest of forest, I'll hack through the fray,
To take out the undead, and end their dark stay.”

He sang, weirdly in quite in tone. More than just like a drunken song sung in a tavern just before dawn. Galaxor would also lift his axe up and let it fall on his shoulder making “boom” sounds to keep the beat of the song.

As he was about to start the next verse, a young tiefling approached him…not that he noticed her. Galaxor’s focus was fully occupied on walking straight, he really didn’t want to repeat the incident from 8 months ago when he stepped on a dwarf and flattened him…permanently.

"Allow me to join you, Sir Stoneclaw," Nemeia said, her singsong voice ringing out pleasantly across the clearing as she approached the large man, the giant painted in shades of stone, "You speak of handling the undead, yes? I will help you bring peace to the unfortunate souls scattered in the nearby barrows."

And that’s when he noticed her. He stopped for a second and looked down at the young tiefling. Galaxor saw the tiefling before in the caravan but didn’t interact with her much, what he knew about her were from the drunken rumours or gossip people would tell him…not that he cared that much for either. Tiefling, demon or angel, who cared as long as they weren’t hostile…for what could any of those do to him? Scratch his toes? Pat him on the knees?

“Oh my! I haven’t seen you there, little one! Careful now, I don’t want to step on you. Now that would be a mess! HA! HA! HA! ” said Galaxor as a reply before realising what she actually said.

“Handling undead? Naaah, I don’t handle undead. I flatten undead but sure, come along but I don’t think the undead drink, not sure what peace you can bring them. HA ! HA! HA! ” continued Galaxor while laughing before barely stopping and adding a “Pheeew, I’m cracking myself up all the time. ”

Eventually, after he stopped laughing, Galaxor and Nemeia continued walking towards the tombs and just as they were about to go into the forest, another pilgrim arrived. Tall but still small for him. This is one of the weirdest things for Galaxor since he left the clans. Everyone was smaller than him, by a lot. Before leaving the clans he never saw anyone from the other races and he was one of the smallest giants in the clan, so, seeing people who were so small was weird and a feeling he’d never get used to.

“Hey-ho, Ivraan! You should drop by the make-shift tavern. Miss drinking with ya! Aye, aye. We’re going to exterminate undead things, ‘put a cheer on people’s faces. Got so tired of their mournful moans, it was like living in a tomb! OHOHO! Anyways, no need to wait for anyone. Let’s have some fun, shall we?” replied Galaxor with his usual cheerful tone before taking a deep breath and continuing the song from before.

"With Galaxor's might, Nemeia's divine grace, and Ivraan's arcane wit,
To the tomb of undead, where they all just sit.
In the shadows, we'll bicker, and in chaos, we'll slay,
Galaxor, Nemeia, and Ivraan, are on their way.”

---

---

Sometime later

The three would-be heroes traversed the forest with no incident happening but they would've all felt that something was wrong in the air. It was as if a presence was telling them to go away. An eerie feeling. A sense of wrongness following them at every step. All this became more and more apparent and enhanced as they got closer to the tomb. Even Galaxor's cheery song seemed less so.

The tomb loomed ahead, a shadowy edifice standing in stark contrast to the surrounding forest. It was a place of foreboding darkness and chilling silence. The once-green canopy of trees gave way to gnarled, skeletal branches that clawed at the sky, casting elongated, eerie shadows that seemed to reach out towards any intruders.

The entrance to the tomb was an imposing archway, its stone facade weathered and cracked with age. The carvings that adorned the entrance had long lost their intricate details, leaving only ominous, indistinct shapes. The air around the tomb was unnaturally cold, as though it sapped the warmth from anyone who dared approach.

As the trio ventured closer, they could see the tomb's entrance yawn open, like a hungry maw, inviting them into its dark depths and a spooky mist hung around the entrance, enhancing the dreadful feeling. The very walls seemed to whisper with a mournful, spectral wind that sent shivers down their spines.

Tag List

@Abstract Proxy@twannyman

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Maxima Magna Mirificus

Maxima’s Ghosts

The Goblin Savior

MUNDANE QUEST #2: Phantoms in the Dark

“A strong return extended the whirlwind of time, where the west wind originated.”

If Galaxor had been the one to create the chambers and tunnels where the goblins guided by the Smilegma lived, then why did they always discover new tunnels around the same time each year? Lately, some of the younger goblins have begun to murmur amongst themselves about the ‘Phantoms of the Lower Tunnels’. A set of triplets claimed they once encountered a ghostly apparition down near the end of the Tunnel of Uglagulg, and when they came back the next day to check on the ghost, found a new tunnel in its place instead. Everyone’s refused to go into any of the lower tunnels since they started spreading those rumours, where most of the tasty creepy-crawlies make their lives and where they harvest the plant fibres they use to make their clothes.
Safe to say, their shabby clothes and tools wouldn’t last long if they didn’t get any new materials for repairs, and with no clothes or tools a fate worse than death awaited them… That of not being able to comfortably sit on the gravelly, scratchy cave floors. Oh, and death by exposure or lack of means of defence against predators, too.

EXPECTED POSTS FOR QUEST COMPLETION: 1
DANGER LEVEL: LOW

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Congrats. Half way through!

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@frettzo _{secret messageonlyforFrettzo, you have 10 points from me if you've read this.}

Fortis Redeo Extenso Turbo Tempus Zephyrus Origo

No one knew what happened but ghosts or divine powers were the words on everyone’s lips. Initially Maxima ignored the rumours but when the workers, one by one refused to go down the tunnels…something had to be done. Even with the Cornucopia, food would eventually run out if they didn’t have what to throw inside it. As with time, they noticed that the Cornucopia gave something of almost similar value of what they threw inside. A bad rock, will offer something edible but not good while a yellow stone of good quality, would offer them a full meal.

Materials were getting scarce too. The yellow stones they found would eventually run out after all, repairs, new tools and buildings used a lot of it after all. ‘Thus, Maxima had to go everyday and make the goblins do what was needed. ‘Alas, this was not a sustainable solution.

A group of warrior goblins was formed one day, 10 of them, each armed with long spears and mining equipment and led by Maxima herself and then they waited for the day when the ghost would appear. But, as Maxima suspected, nothing was there when they arrived. No ghost, no new tunnel. A plan was devised soon after.

Maxima stayed behind and commanded the warriors to go forward, only dressed up as miners and ‘lo and behold. The ghost appeared or better said, the goblins dressed as a ghost appeared. Not that the warriors knew that initially. They were afraid but under Maxima’s command, they couldn’t falter. They advanced towards the “ghost” and as soon as they approached it, Maxima revealed herself.

The goblins that used some sort of unidentified rock to make an eerie light combined with plant matter that they weaved to make clothes with, fell down to their knees as the command of Maxima overtook their will. Swiftly, the warrior goblins circled them and pointed their spears towards the necks of the “ghosts”

“Stay on your knees, gobbits*. What is the meaning of this? What is going on here? My people are starving because of you. Children going without food.” shouted Maxima, leaning heavily on her command. These goblins weren’t of her tribe, they were from the outside world yet as far as the Goblin Underground was aware, there was no exit to the surface from anywhere around here.

One of the smaller goblins started crying and was soon followed by another one. Only the third “ghost” , which looked considerably older than the other two, was looking serious and lifted his head to look Maxima in the eye.

“Better your children than mine, great Maxima. We meant no offence but it was the only thing we could do. A big earthquake trapped my tribe in these caves a few years ago. We’ve been dragged deep underground and found your spot where the food grows. We were…so hungry. Oh’ so hungry, didn't think of anything else but food, what we had were these glowing rocks. Nothing that can be given in exchange for food...and we were afraid of you. Goblins above…some started to eat each other, we were afraid you were the same. So, we hid. My mate found the rocks and I came up with the plan…she’s dead now but the children remain. ” said the older goblin with true sadness in his eyes. It was clear that they regretted their decision but from their perspective, it was the only thing to do.

Maxima stayed silent as the old goblin told his tale and somewhere half through, even she was moved by his words. Especially when he said that goblins ate each other. That made Maxima think. Why were they breaking the creator’s rules? Why did they kill one another and then eat one another? Is desperation so strong? These and many other questions raced through her mind but she shook her head.

“That is indeed sad, gobbit. Yet, you could’ve tried. You could’ve talked with us. Our creator himself told us not to kill one another. It was one of his first decrees. His first rule. I remember, I was there when it was created. Continue your tale, how did you open up the new tunnels? The “ghost” was indeed a smart move but you cannot tell me that those rocks allowed you to open up new tunnels. ”

“We could’ve tried and we should’ve but fear is stronger than anything else. How did we do it? We didn’t. There are some creatures in these caves, something like a worm. They crawl through the ground and make holes..then it comes crashing down. Hurting our younglings or yours. The worms move once every cycle to breed, every cycle they make a new tunnel.”

“You were protecting us and yourself at the same time? Where are these worms then?”

“That’s right. Probably deep in the ground, sleeping until the next breeding season. We’ve seen them ever since we arrived here. Now, I am more than happy to answer more questions but let’s get this over with. Are you going to kill us? Run us off? If so, please let the younglings go. They were only helping me..they don’t deserve death. ” said the old goblin, his eyes tearing for the first time as he begged for mercy…not for himself but for the children.

“The surface world sounds quite messed up if you think we’ll kill you. No, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Gather your tribe. Bring them over to us. We’ll take care of them. ”

“And in exchange?”

“In exchange, your people will work for the food, clothes and everything they receive. They will also share their knowledge with us. But..there is a problem. I cannot let this go unpunished, ‘lest I’ll appear weak. ”

“I…I…we’re..are you…” started saying the old goblins, mirth clear on his face until he heard the last part. His face steeled itself for what was about to come and stood up.

“Very well. Please punish me then. I shall take the punishment for everyone. ”

“For everyone, you say? Very well, for each member of your tribe, you’ll act as my advisor for a cycle. I require cunning people in my retinue. Now, tell me your name. ”

“I will gladly serve you, my leader. They call me Rajesh. ”

Maxima held out her hand to him and as he took it, said “Welcome to the tribe, Rajesh. We’re about to do wonderful things together. ”

Summary

Maxima investigates the rumours of “ghosts” in the tunnels. She discovers that the ghosts are in fact a tribe of goblins that came every year over to take whatever they needed from the tunnels and then left to their own part of the tunnels. They explained that the new tunnels were created by a species of worms that came out around that time of the year to breed.
Maxima invites the tribe to live with them in exchange for Rajesh, the goblin leader of the other tribe, to serve as an advisor to her.

Dictionary

Gobbit = a word that means inferior, weaker, beneath one’s notice

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

@Cyclone Humans live, Cy!

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

@Rune_Alchemist@Zeroth

Carmina collected what needed to be collected and followed Svarok. Quitely looking at him as they walk, her mind kept telling her something is off about how he asked about "God". It wasn't the usual "God" one would refer to in this world but more like God-God. The human one or so. But as she pondered on it, the campsite appeared and stopped.

The two of them started carving up the two goblins they killed, collecting many parts from them. Starting the fire from there wasn't too hard, some of the charcoal was still hot enough to light up a few branches.

Carmina stared at Svarok as they asked, once more a religious related question.

“Rogyam”

“I’ve heard it too. No idea who or what that is. Food? A warrior? Some kind of divine being? Maybe his favourite animal. I don’t particularly care. If there’s a way to profit out of it, I will but ‘till then, survival comes first. Regarding the question from before, what do you believe in? A god? A creature from beyond?” asked Carmina, carefully, trying to determine Svarok’s disposition and thoughts.

While she was talking, the goblin ears, the eyes and their tongues finally cooked enough to look edible. She took a deep breath and then another and then a few more, before eating them one by one.

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

@Cyclone Working on that now actually :P

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Tortoise

The Pilgrim’s Caravan

The Giant Galaxor & The Undead Tombs

Tombs, bones and an axe

DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRIIIINNNKK!!

GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! C’MON! GET ITTTT! ONE LAST DROP!

Shout after shout as two barrels of dwarven ale lay upside down above Galaxor’s mouth, pouring their highly alcoholic liquid down his throat. It seemed that Galaxor would almost drown at one point as the liquid in his mouth was slowly spilling out of it. This was one of his favourite activities in the caravan and one that made him money from his fellow travellers. A giant can drink way more than most of the other races without getting drunk and their liver recovered fast from alcohol, a fact which most people don’t know. A fact which Galaxor always enjoyed showing.

As the barrels let out their last drop, a loud cheer was let out by the crowd. It was maybe one of the few activities that still brought joy to the caravaneers since they arrived in the forest. But even those that showed up to the drinking bouts or contests, were considerably less than they were before. The crowd was thinning. Less familiar faces. Less enthusiasm in their voices. People chose to stay closer to their families rather than go out drinking with a giant.

Come on! One MORE! the crowd shouted but then…Galaxor heard something else. A voice.

To Galaxor Stoneclaw, the great giant explorer, he says:

"Stoneclaw, O giant wanderer of our Caravan, there is word of ancient barrows nearby. Was it not your purpose to see the world, so that you may bring stories of it back to your tribesmen? Well, while we are stopped for some time, perhaps you'd like to venture out and explore these forsaken old ruins. Some others may wish to go with you. I hear of tales of undead- and I admit, I do not like having such a threat so close to our Caravan. Take your axe and your fists with you, should you go. I do not think any skeletons will withstand you."

Athulwin

Words. Words from Althuwin. Danger. Adventure. Perfect! While Galaxor wasn’t a fighter nor from a fighting clan, he always loved fighting, especially as he chose to embark on this potentially very dangerous mission. In fact, this was one of the many reasons he was even allowed to go. The Stone King himself declared him to be fit for the task.

As such, he put down the barrel he grabbed earlier on and lifted a hand in the air.

“Sorry guys, the big boss man is calling me. But don’t worry, I’ll be back! HA! HA! HA! ” he said with a loud laugh that slightly shook the barrel. His voice was like the stone itself, hard, strong, unbreakable.

Galaxor took two steps forward, making the ground shake a bit as he walked and grabbed his massive battle-axe with one hand and lifted it up, putting it on his shoulder and let out a shout towards where he thought Althuwin was.

“Did somebody call for an EXTERMINATOR?!”

Kings and Killers: A Classical Fantasy Adventure (Chapter 1)

The woman stood still as her tattoos seemed to glow stronger, her face was in pure ecstasy as her mutter grew faster and faster. Not that anyone but Ashe noticed it in time.

Eventually, it became obvious to everyone that a spell was being cast.

"Everyone DOWN NOW!" shouted Ashe as she threw herself on the floor, hoping the others would follow her lead.

A bright light followed before a deafening sound of a magical explosion rocked the tavern. Griff, his crew and a good part of the patrons were caught in the blast which acted as a scythe which cut them in half.

As the smoke cleared, the carnage was revealed. Blood, body parts and dead bodies and broken furniture everywhere.

From the back of the bar, the part where the damage was the least, 5 figures stood up. All dressed up in the same robes as the woman.

Two of them had long sharp blades and a small crossbow attached to their arms and they straight away made a bee-line towards the group.

The other two, followed closely behind before stopping a few metres away from the group. They disrobed and revealed the same tattoos as the woman before and started muttering their spell as the tattoos would start to glow.

And finally, the leader. Stood in the back, waiting for two to engage before jumping in themselves.

Caravan: An Episodic Fantasy with Worldbuilding! [Always Accepting]

@Dracolunaris