~An unknown time after the subjugation of the Drowned One, and the slaying of its spawn.~
I am young and I am old.
I was born of my great parent. To fight the hated grown soldiers. My essence torn from it Given locomotion by it Given hatred and intent by it. And in the end. Abandoned by it.
Its mind was the glowing one's now Gone from me. Gone from my dead siblings. Gone from the silent and cold dark.
I ran. I wanted to live. I ran. The heat was intense I ran. My feet burned. I ran. My new lungs seized for lack of air. I ran.
I felt her burning eyes upon me from so far away. I could see them in the fires around me. In the rivers of molten flame. In the small creatures that tried to burn me. Her hand pulled me under the currents of flame. I could not run.
I waited to become the heat. For my form to be consumed by its better hate. To return to the quiet and dark. I could not run.
But I did not find the dark. I did not become the heat. My form was not consumed.
Instead I opened my eyes to this place. A void in the molten stone. I feel it. The pressure. The heat of the molten wall that holds me still. All held at bay by her whim.
I do not see her. But she is here. Her eyes. Her touch. She pulls my essence from me. She weaves it in the air. The heat causing it to sway and writhe. It dances in long strands. It is beautiful now. I am beautiful now.
She speaks to me as she weaves me, She says that she does not hate me. She says that she can't hate me. She says that it is because she needs me.
Through me she wants to see the dark. Through me she wants to speak to the cold. Through me she wants to whisper to those who watch.
She sings as she pulls a great strand of essence from my head. I like the sound. She sings as she weaves it into the complex design. I feel her song resonate into my being. She sings into the array before her. She only stops to hear if anything sings back.
If they sing to her. I do not hear. If they talk to her. I cannot know.
All at once. I am nothing. All at once. I am something.
All at once. I am young and I am old.
A spawn of the Drowned One, captured by Anat’aa in the closing of the battle, awakens to find itself entombed far beneath the newly formed Traps. While it finds itself in a pocket of air among the molten rock, it is still immobilized by the magma. It is then approached by Anat’aa who begins to pull its inherent void essence from its body. She explains to the spawn that she is using it to try and contact the void. As Anat’aa tunes the Spawns essence like an antenna, she infuses the designs she creates with a trickle of her own power. The spawn interprets this as a song sung to the void.
To many the question, of whether it is a curse or a blessing to be named by a god, would occur at least once in their life. To Inanna though this particular thought had never truly occurred. Not because they found no difficulty in the constant visions of the burning lands, or even the noticeable marks burned into their feathers. But perhaps mostly, in spite of it.
They had grown much from when the goddess of fire had named them. They had memorized all the stories there were to hear, and telling them with skill. They had grown strong as they wandered farther and farther from the city each night to gather and hunt. Theirs had become a joyful presence around the fires at night, and theirs had become dependable hands for the community. There was however a sadness that could not be placed that resided not only within Inanna, but all those who knew them well. A sense of impermanence perhaps, of home always being over the next horizon and this was a simple way station on the road.
It was this sense that Inanna sat with as the light of the bonfires began to spring up around them. It had been two and a half decades since their naming this night, a cause for celebration in all other times. But even as the others began setting up their trading stalls and the storytellers began to gather their classes, Inanna sat alone. They sat on the edge of the community, as if in a trance they looked at the horizon. As the stars showed their gleaming forms over the desert, Inanna let the tranquility of the moment wash over them.
With the tranquility came memories. A trickle at first but soon becoming a flood of sensations and images that subsumed their sight. The first time they heard stories around the bonfires, the taste of bloodbroth of particular quality, the heat of the sand under Itzal’s gaze, the burning eyes of Anat’aa. All and more flickered through the phoenix’s mind, their internal flame flaring in the act of remembrance. They wrapped themself in the warmth and sense of completeness so powerful it was as if they were standing before the bonfires even now.
Perhaps this is why they did not feel the movement of their clawed feet across the sand, the motion and repetitive sound the only indication of their travel. They would have continued like this, led by their own visions into the desolation, if it were not for a sound of distress that lanced through the haze. Blinking, Inanna realized two things quickly. The bonfires of the city were now glimmering stars themselves so far were they in the distance, and that immediately before them lay a wounded fox.
It was pierced in its side by four crude spear shafts. Gowing ichor seeped from its wounds with each shallow breath, flowing off its side to land on the uncaring ground. Inanna bent over the wounded animal, its eye moving to watch them. “What happened here?” their voice was little more than a murmur, yet they felt as if they had shouted into the night.
“Hurt and hunted, left to lay here to wait for the sun.”
The reply did not come as words, but thoughts that slipped into Inanna’s mind. Startling Inanna who could only muster back the slight reply of “Why?”
Yet again their voice felt far too large for what it had actually been. But all the same the foreign thoughts crept into their mind, words forming from projected feelings and approximations. “They wanted things they did not deserve. Things I would not give them. Now I am here, and so are you. So one must wonder, what will you do now?”
Inanna stopped for a moment, considering the question posed. The only answer that answered in the depths of their mind was a simple one. Reaching out they seized the first of the four spears. “I will do what I can, even if it is not much.”
The fox did not remove its gaze from the beastfolk as they tugged and pulled, freeing the first spear with a slight pop. As they did the spear head fell away from the shaft, which crumbled in their hand. The fox still just looked at them, no sign of pain or discomfort breaking its ineffable expression. Still its thoughts touched Inanna’s mind again “I could hurt you if you free me, why persist?”
“Because it is the right thing to do and getting hurt isn't a guarantee.” Inanna answered back as they seized the second of the spears, only for the same process as the first to effect it as well. The glimmering spearpoint dropping to the sand at their feet. As it did the fox asked on.
“Shouldn't you be around the fires, telling stories for your fellows?”
“I will when this work is done. Perhaps I will tell a story about this.” Inanna replied with a smile as the third spear slid free. Again the shaft dissolved, and again the spear head landed softly on the sand. As it did, again did the fox ask a question of Inanna.
“What do you want?”
This last question took Inanna aback, as the answer did not come to them as quickly as the first three. There was no tone to the thought, but something in their very soul knew that this was not something to answer so quickly. Their hand hesitated on the fourth spear as they searched for something to say. What did they want? They slowly realized they had never asked themself that, relying as they did on their naming.
They sat in silence, the phoenix and the fox, only the stars to watch them for a time. Finally Inanna found their voice enough to answer the question “I want to see the world, I want to learn all the stories they have to tell. I want…” Inanna’s voice trailed off as they reached for the last spear “I want to know why I was named.”
The last spear slid out noiselessly as Inanna spoke. As it dissolved the fox began to rise, the glowing ichor that once seeped from the wound vanishing. Even the wounds themselves closed up in an eye blink, leaving no trace of their ever being there. Looking down the fox touched each of the spearheads with its nose, a small ember sparking off on to each of them as it did so. As this was done it raised its head to look Inanna in the eyes.
Inanna who was now realizing the immense size of the fox before them, met its gaze silently. The world around them seemed to drain away as the memory of eyes from so long ago once more invaded their waking sight. Instinctually they felt as if they should look away, tear their mortal gaze away from the depths that were the fox’s. Fighting against this instinct they continued to return the gaze of the fox as its thoughts once more crept into their mind.
“You have done me a service, a kindness. As such I bid you to take up those little things, carry them with you as you and bring them to the spiral. When you are in doubt in your journey, or in trouble yourself, hold one close and I shall answer. I give you this gift of four trinkets, four calls, in exchange for my four questions.”
Inanna cast a glance to where the now slightly glowing spearheads lay at their feet, half buried as they were in sand. Bringing their gaze back to the fox, they found their voice once more “Thank you..”
A broad smile touched the edge of the fox’s mouth as their thoughts cut Inanna off “Dont thank me yet child, wait till after its all over. If you still want to say those words, then I will listen to them. Now go, I do believe you have some packing to do.”
Inanna drew in a breath to speak once more, but as they blinked their eyes they realized they were once more sitting where they had been at the edge of the city. Only now they clutched four spear heads in their left hand. Rising they spent the rest of the night gathering supplies and traveling clothes. No goodbys did they offer the community. Not because they did not have any to give, but because this goodby had been said so many years ago.
The next night they set off into the desert, pausing only to look back at the city as they crested a vast dune. They burned the image of the glittering fires among the rough mudbrick buildings into their memory with a smile. Something within them said they would once more see this sight again, but at the same time did reside the feeling that his was the last sight of home.
They traveled, as was their peoples custom, mostly at night. Flying when they could and walking when their wings failed them, stopping only for the breifist of times under the shadows of dunes when the sun peeked out over the horizon. They traveled night after night, the stars their only companion, till eventually their supplies of bloodbroth began to grow low. Stopping for a night, Inanna piled together kindling and tried to spark a fire, but no flame came. Again and again they tried, still no fire came to them. Growing hungry and cold as the heat of the day quickly vanished from the sand they grew to despair.
Casting their firemaking kit aside in frustration, they shrunk down beside the cold tinder and shivered. They hugged themself in comfort and in effort to stay warm. Without even meaning to their hand found one of the spearpoint and clutched it tightly. “Why wont it light” they asked themself and the dark “How can I make fire if it wont light?”
The night offered no reply to the beastfolk, but it was not the nights place to answer anyway. Instead the glow of the spear tip faded and the voice from before whispered into Inanna’s mind. “Heat, dear one. Fire needs heat. If those tools will not give you that. Find it another way, you have all you need before you.”
Inanna laughed sardonically to themself. The answer was so easy to a disembodied voice, so simple. But the voice remained silent, resolute in the answer it had given. As such, seeing no other options before them, Inanna began to reflect on the answer. As they did they rubbed their taloned hands to bring the feeling back into them from the cold. With the motion came a slight heat between them, piquing Inanna’s curiosity. Doing it again they reached out to one of the strands of tinder. As they did they felt strange, like a trickle of energy coursed through their palm from where the heat had been. It flowed from them into the tinder and in an instant the stick burst into flame. So was Inanna able to become warm, and eat that night.
More night passed, they hitched rides on the great rolling beetles in the sands when they could. But soon came the day they ran out of kindling, and upon finding nothing once more despaired. Again they clutched one of the spearheads and asked the dark for answers “I have heat, but I have no kindling. What more can I do?”
Again the voice came to them “Fire’s fuel can be many things. You only think of fire as something that jumps from stick to stick. But you have none, what more can you burn?”
Once more Inanna was left to ponder this answer. What more could they burn, what more did they have? As they thought they recalled watching the storytellers of their youth create the bonfires. Watching their careful construction of the piles so they would burn slowly over the night. This memory brought them happiness, a bright warmth to their weary mind. As before curiosity took hold, and they channeled the happiness they felt towards where the heat from before resided. Closing their eyes they felt the two collide and begin to feed themself, dancing within their soul. Upon opening their eyes they saw a small fire flickering in their hand. This made them smile.
After this night the journey seemed a short one. But they spent all their free time feeding the warmth different things, disgust, anger, sorrow, passion. All seemed to influence the flames produced differently, some were larger and roared with fury, others were smaller and sputtered unhappily. So fascinated by this they were that they almost did not realize when they had reached the edge of the spiral.
They looked out upon it, the stretch of burnt and broken land. Watched as jets of magma were thrown into the air, watch the heat rise and shimmer in the sun. Gathering themself they removed their traveling gear, leaving it in a small heap on the edge of the burn terrain, and set off into the burning spiral. It was slow going at first, the broken obsidian glass that constituted the ground around the channels of magma cut at their feet. Quietly to themself they wished they could simply fly over it, but the gasses that rose from the plumes dismayed that notion.
Soon they began to think the very land was working against them. Paths would close as they tried to cross them, plumes would erupt directly in their path, vast sprays of airborne lava smatter on their feathers. Soon more and more burns began to cover their feathers, blackened points where even their god blessed resistance to fire began to fail. Their clothing began to smolder as they continued, the edges blackening in their proximity to the raw heat of the spiral.
Burned as they were, they still pressed on in their path further into the spiral. This progress was halted though when they came to a veritable wall of obsidian that jutted out into their path. Taking a moment to rest they sat against it. Taking a moment to assess their situation they had no cause for excitement. They were in a truly barren place, they were covered in burns from the magma and cuts from broken obsidian. Even the air was getting difficult to breathe, so thick was it with volcanic gasses. Still they began to laugh to themself, this was what hey had always wanted after all.
They reflected on what brought them here, across the desert and away from the relative safety of the city. They thought of the wonder when they had caused fire to spring up from their hand, of the wind filling their feathers in flight, of the faces of other travelers and friends back home. So far away all that seemed now and so far away the center of the spiral seemed as well, stuck as they were behind this wall.
Again they fished out a spear head, a motion that had become normal to them, after all this time.
“So here I am! What more do I need to know! What great minutia of wisdom will let me tear a wall down!” Inanna shouted above the roar or the spiral, a hint of overwhelming exasperation creeping into their hoarse voice.
Like before the answer came quietly into their thoughts. “Your fire can breach that little wall, you have the fuel, you have the heat. Now, like all things born into this world, you must let it breathe.”
As the glow and voice faded Inanna glanced back at the wall. Gathering the most verdant thoughts, they focused all they could muster upon it. Immediately a sparking flame began to dance on its mirrored surface. They began to pull heat from their very essence and the world around them. The fire grew, yet the wall remained. They poured more and more energy to feed it, giving entire parts of the memories to the fire, watching in their minds eye as they turned to cinder in the flame. Still the fire could not breach the glass.
Still they endured, trying to find out what Anat’aa had meant. How could they make it breathe? Finding no answer, and feeling their feathers starting to singe as the intense flame claimed more and more of themself, they began to laugh. No mirth lived in this sound, only a guttural animalistic exasperated desperation. As they did they felt something peculiar. The fire pulsed with their laughter, reacting to it as if the very sound itself encouraged (or offended) it.
Drawing as great a breath as their wounded lungs would allow, they closed their eyes. Letting the sound of the fire be the only thing that filled their senses, they breathed out. As they did the fire roared and pulled the breath into itself, leaving Inanna gasping as no air returned to their lungs.Yet Inanna screwed their eyes shut against the desperate pleas of their lungs and forced what breaths should have come to them to instead feed the fire.
To Inanna, time burned away in the heat of the flame, leaving only them and the blazing heat alone in all of creation. There was peace in that isolation, an understanding that they had never felt before. So it was that in this isolation they saw something within the flame, not with their eyes (still shut as they were) but with their very soul. A flicker of an image, a memory not born of their own life, but one of a time outside of time, a life outside of life. Burning words set upon an impossible scroll, yet they could not read them from their limited viewpoint.
With a deep crack the loneliness was shattered as the great wall of glass cracked and shuddered against the flame. With a splintering bang a way opened up before Inanna, who opened their eyes, finding the world a bit blurrier. Bringing their burned and singed body forward they scrambled into the rift in the wall, hauling themself up onto the top. Collapsing as they reached the top they gasped for air they had not yet taken and silently rejoiced in the completion of the task.
Struggling to their feet, Inanna looked out across the center of the spiral. The vast lake of molten rock surged around a broken pathway that led to the very center of the fire. There stood a platform, untouched by heat and gas, and atop it they knew Anat’aa waited. They could not see her but they knew she was their, watching, waiting.
Slowly striding forward, their gate became a run as the weight of a journey soon over came upon them. They bounded from stone to stone deftly ignoring the danger that surged around them. Soon only a single stone and the platform remained, a simple jump, a final step. But Inanna balked as jets of magma sprung up in their path. Wincing as the smattering struck them they knew they could not wait long in the withering heat of the caldera. Seeing no way forward, and unwilling to go back they grasped the last of the spearheads and steeled themself.
Without speaking a question they simply closed their eyes and jumped towards the platform.
They did not feel the magma plume strike them, they did not feel the burning ooze eat into their flesh as they landed in a heap on the platform. All they felt was the peace that they had found in the fire, the serenity in the dark isolation. Had their beak been able to smile still, it would have. Yet this isolation was soon interrupted by the voice that had become an infrequent friend in their life.
“So you have arrived little Inanna. I am so happy to see you again.” The warm voice of the goddess washed over the broken and fading psyche of Inanna like a balm on a sunburn. “I see you are owed a final answer, a final lesson that you still clutch in your hand. So what is your question, little one?”
No voice came from the ruined form of Inanna in answer, as there was no voice left to ask. But in the darkness they gathered what they could find of themself, heat from their burning wounds, air from their last breaths, and the searing memory of the eyes of the Goddess from the night of their naming. Burning letters appeared in their darkness, like those they had seen within the fire. It was a simple question,
Why?
The question burned in the darkness for a time, before it was met with a warm peal of laughter from the Goddess of fire. “After all this oh little one you have not seen, you have not felt, the answer to that question? The answer is written on the fabric of creation itself. That is simply this, outside of the heat needed to spark a flame, the fuel needed to sustain it, and the air needed to grow it, fire only has one true property my dear one. And that is change. Nothing that it touches remains the same, not entirely. Even you as you are has been burned away and changed. Change is all that fire is, and all that fire can be. And now it is all that you are.”
A strange sensation struck Inanna with the closing of the Goddess words, they drew breath into what were once ruined lungs. They slowly brought themself to stand on what had been missing feet. They stood awkwardly and felt what should have been a ruined body. They found they were whole, but they were different. They terraced great burns in their flesh that remained, their feet cracked as if they were still singed and their feathers still had holes burned through them. Above all this though, the darkness remained. Touching around their eyes they felt the large spiderweb burn that covered them.
Strangely no panic entered their thoughts at this revelation, instead their thoughts turned to the clothing that draped their form. It felt softer than anything they had worn before, a far cry from the roughspun fabrics of the city of their youth. “I don’t understand” They finally croaked out, their new lungs wheezing in their first use.
“You have been changed little one” Anat’aa answered back as she circled the blind beastfolk “Touched by my fire and become something more than you were. You must feel it dont you? you felt it before, but now you know fire in all its stages, now you can see it?”
Indignation panged Inanna’s heart, after they could nto see anything let alone what the Goddess was referencing. Breathing in they were about to protest this, but something cut them off before the words could even form. A flickering light shone before them. The words upon an impossible page, a burning light that became the first fire, lay before them. They reached out to it and felt the familiar and comforting warmth of their created fire spring up in their hand.
Releasing the fire a sob escaped from Inanna “I do see it”
Clapping her hands together Anat’aa smiles win joy “Wonderful! Simply wonderful! Now I have one more gift for you.”
Stepping around Inanna, Anat’aa gathered the four spearheads and set upon them with divine flame. Pulling and contorting them, Anat’aa twisted them into the form of a diadem that could fit snugly over Inanna’s ruined eyes. Placing it upon them she etched three blessings upon the design. The first let those without sight the ability to see through three fiery motes that became tied to the diadem. The second deepened the connection to the primordial flame, so that the wearer might know it better than all. The last etching brought rejuvenation, as like the bonfires of Inanna’s city were stoked every night so to will the body and life of the wearer.
Given this gift Inanna bowed low, a smile once more touching the scarred beak of the phoenix beastfolk. Reaching out Anat’aa raised their head so that way she may look into the diadem like she was looking into the eyes of Inanna so long ago. “The world is changing faster and faster little one. Dangers not even I could have predicted are coming to pass. So it is that I have given you these gifts, and a purpose anew. Teach those who will be taught, shield those who cannot. Gather many around the fires like you have in your youth. They will be my fire keepers, and you will be their guide”
Anat’aa paused for a moment in her decree, a pang of sorrow touching her essence “Also know I am sorry little Inanna, yours will be a life harder than I wanted for you. No true rest will you know as it is your purpose to wander. But know one last thing. If ever you or those who come to follow you need a place of rest or succor, this place will always be open to you.”
Looking up at the Goddess, the first pyromancer felt none of the sorrow of the deity that stood before them. Instead a renewed sense of vigor filled their form. Drawing themself up they only responded with a single question “Where should I begin my lady?”
After a number of years Anat’aa calls Inanna to the glass spiral in a cryptic dream like vision. Complying, Inanna leaves the city of Anat’aas chosen to begin their journey. On this journey they learn from Anat’aa the secrets of Pyromancy, becoming the first mortal individual to be able to summon fire from the primal connection.
Just as they were finishing their journey they suffered a fatal blow from a magma jet. In so doing they learn the final lesson of Pyromancy and are healed by Anat’aa. While they are not returned to the original form hey are once more fully functional and were given the artifact the heart of fire. Upon receiving this artifact they are given their mission to spread the knowledge of Pyromancy and create a group called the Firekeepers to spread the worship of Anat’aa and provide protection from the dangers of the world through fiery means.
Beginning MP: 20
Expendatures-
Creation of Pyromancy - 2mp (Pyromancy works off of an individuals connection to the primal source of fire. Using the connection to spontaneously create fire from the Pyromancers very essence. Feelings, memories, physical form and so one can all be used a fuel for their fire (with the intensity of said fire dictated by not only the strength of said connection but also the ‘vibrancy’ of the fuel source. Eg the more powerful the feeling or memory the larger the fire). It should also be noted that the use of Pyromancy inherently changes the user on some fundamental level (lesson 4: Fire changes all things), as such a practitioner will often lose a faculty of theirs in pursuit of mastery.
Creation of a hero (Inanna) - 1mp
Healing of Inanna - 1mp
Creation of artifact (The heart of fire) - 1mp Additional powers for artifact - 2mp (1mp from domain action of creation, 1mp extra spent)
6Mp spent
Mp after expenditures: 14mp
The heart of fire is a wrought iron diadem forged from the spearheads that Anat’aa gifted to Inanna. It is an intricate construction of woven metal that fits over the eyes of a potential wearer. The most prominent feature of the diadem is three spikes (two point down each cheek and on point up on the forehead respectively), each tipped with a small glowing mote of fire. Its abilities are as follows
Mote sight - The three motes of the diadem allow the wearer to effectively ‘see’ from them. This sight is not normal sight, but a colorless vague sight as if one is peering through a bonfire. This sight pierces darkness as if it wasn't event there. A sufficient master of Pyromancy can even cause the motes to float around them, effectively lengthening their sight.
Inherent Connection - The Heart deepens the connection of the user to the primal source of fire. Effectively providing a massive boost to their power and allowing for a level of control that otherwise would not be possible without great effort or sacrifice from the prospective Pyromancer.
Fiery regeneration - Lie fire being stoked back from embers the wearer of the Heart has the uncanny ability to regenerate wounds and damage done to them in a fiery fashion at the end of each day. It should be noted that this does not confer immortality or invincibility, but it can allow the wearer to recover from near fatal wounds
So it was that in the vastness of the deep desert, far beyond the sight of the great river, where great flats of hard stone broke beyond the surface of sand, did the chosen of Anat’aa emerge. They seemed at first like those of their beastfolk kin, save for an ashen gray design stained across the flesh and fur of their left ear. For this was the place that the Goddess had whispered the name of fire to them, marking them forever more. Even now, she watched them, dancing always out of sight but keeping them in hers. Even as they took their first stumbling steps into the uneven sand, she rejoiced in their lives.
Still, the birthplace of these chosen was not a kind one. As only the hardiest of plants could scratch out a living among the rocks and sands, so food was scarce. Water hid itself away from them, so thirst was a constant friend. But above all, during the days in this place the malefic sun shone so hotly that even those who resisted the touch of fire would succumb. As such did the joy of Anat’aa turn to sorrow, and her dance slowed in this new cadence that pulled at her essence. Still through this she watched her chosen, never far from them.
Even in this harshness, even as the sorrow of their Goddess welled over at their plight, did the chosen endure. Theirs was not an easy way, they stumbled but never fell, if one found the sweet roots of a plant or the bounty of a post blood rain it was shared with the others. If they found water, they ensured all drank their fill. There were deaths of course, many falling to the sand, or thirst, but still they hung on. Soon generations came to pass like the rising and setting of the sun, and the harshness of the first chosen became a memory. A lesson that was taught to them by the planet itself.
They learned how to survive their home, move in the night to avoid the sun, to find water in the shadow of the stones, to split the hard plants to receive the sweet flesh within. Above all they learned to find joy in each other, for the desert takes those alone. In this did the sorrow of Anat’aa abate, and in so doing did she descend to walk with them for a time. She saw that even though they were safe from the burning sun at night, the darkness and cold of the desert still plagued them. As such she gathered cast off husks of the desert plants and put them at the feet of several of the slumbering beastfolk.
Whispering once more to each in turn, she told them how to cultivate fire. How to bring light to the darkness they resided in. Departing them Anat’aa sung to herself, a song of memory and time, a song to change the inner fire of those who were taught to ensure that they never forget the lessons they had learned. Changing the release for the fire to one of a need to teach.
Coming to rest atop a stone away from them did Anat’aa settle down to watch them once more. Night came and with it came the first fires of the chosen, springing up across the group, gathering the many around them. Anat’aa saw this and was happy.
Again days and nights swirled in the heavens, generations coming and going before the goddess of fire’s eyes and senses. Soon buildings arose, first woven from the hard bones of the desert plants. Eventually gave way to flat topped structures carved from the rocks themselves. While perhaps no great construction a small city emerged from the hollows of the sandblasted rocks all the same.
They dug cisterns to hold seasonal water, filling them and keeping them well away from the surface. In the same vein did the chosen dig trenches to divert the blood rains into their own pits. From which was created hardy broths and, when mixed with the mashed pulp of the plants and cooked, a thin drink that sustained their bodies if they needed to venture out in the day.
All through this did the song of Anat’aa ring in the fire of the descendants of the original chosen who were taught. Becoming storytellers, they told of the days of the first chosen, of the dance of Yumash and Anat’aa, the whisperings of the goddess and tails of myth and moral. Each night they stoked great fires to bring light to the night, each morning they doused all but a few embers they carried to their homes for the next night. In this way did they tend the flames and the chosen.
Anat’aa was content with this, watching the burning souls of her chosen surge even in the desert. Soon something caught her attention, so she rose from her rest and returned to the Chosen. Under the guise of a young storyteller she entered the carved structures, weaving around the now much larger population Anat’aa came to a house that lay on the edge of the city.
It was nothing special, simple mud brick and stone. But it was not the structure that interested her, but what lay inside. A newborn beastfolk, a phoenix that lay swaddled in the main room, cooing at the crackling fire in the hearth. Anat’aa looked upon the newborn and saw the fire within them. It looked like the fire of the other storytellers, but it burned with intensity, bright even among the throngs of its peers. Laughing Anat’aa entered the house and lifted the child so she may look into their eyes. Unexpectedly the child looked back, as if it could see the goddess beneath the disguise.
“You little one are going to be something wonderful!” Anat’aa exclaimed as she twirled with delight, “I Have been waiting for you! I did not know I was but here you are!”
The child cooed with delight as the goddess twirled with her, showing no fear even as Anat’aa’s form roared back to its divine brilliance. With the roar of a great fire did Anat’aa bring the child over great leagues to where the glass spiral lay, still roiling with magma. Holding the baby close she held it so it may look upon the structure.
“You will remember this place little one, for you will return here when you are ready. It will challenge you, maybe even harm you. But when you reach its center I will be waiting. For you are special even among my Chosen.” Anat’aa spoke her voice clear above the din and roar
Reaching down she dipped her finger into the magma and brought it to the child's forehead, turning it to look into her eyes again. “So do I name you Inanna. And impart on you purpose”
As she spoke did Anat’aa trace her finger in a symmetrical design across the childs forehead, the magma creating a black mark on the Inanna’s feathers. If this harmed Inanna, they did not cry out only returning the look from Anat’aa silently.
Smiling with satisfaction Anat’aa returned Inanna to her home, the main room now scorched with her passing. Laying Inanna down in the center of the room Anat’aa laughed as she departed once more to the spiral, this time to eagerly await her new found curiosity. Leaving behind only the babe, the scorched room, and smoldering marks etched into the burned room ’I have been named Inanna for now and forever’
Anat’aa observes her Chosen, the group of beastfolk that she had blessed on their creation as they emerge in the desert. The going is tough for their first while as the desert is, unsurprisingly, a very hard place to live. Eventually as the years march by they learn the basics of desert survival, after which Anat’aa gifts them with the knowledge of how to harness fire to make their lives a little easier. From this she creates a storytell caste that maintains a spoken history of the Chosen as well as maintaining their fires.
The gift of fire allows further development of the Chosen to a larger isolated population in the deep desert. Using the lessons they learned earlier to create a relatively complex society. Eventually this society gives rise to an individual with a particularly strong inner fire, that takes Anat’aa’s notice. She names this child Inanna, and marks them as well as telling them to seek her out in the glass spiral in the future.
Caught in the fires of the birth of the universe, borne along the uncontrollable winds of a million million futures, Anat'aa hurtled towards the surface of the planet. As she fell towards the once spat out stone, she laughed and twisted through the currents of the new reality. As she twisted she allowed her form to discorporate, becoming as streaks of fire that lanced through the skies of the world, as if several stars had already grown tired of their place in the sky. Far did they fall, so far that the speed at which they fell seemed to not matter as they seemed to hang in the sky like claw marks. Only a deep roar told of the speed at which they traveled.
This roar was soon drowned out by the resounding cacophony of the fiery lances meeting the ground. Like a summer storm Anat'aa landed upon Galbar, sudden and intense. But unlike a summer storm this rain tore apart the sand and rock. Carving deep gouges were torn into the desert's surface, each one radiating with the intense heat if the impacts. Thankfully for the desert the rain was short lived, ending minutes after it began. This reprieve, however, was very short lived.
With a blinding flash Anat'aa literally pulled herself together. Each part of her ripping the gouges longer as they all spiraled to a center crater. A final resounding boom echoed out, flowed swiftly but a large fox dripping in flame hops out of the crater. Sitting on the lip of the ripped earth, Anat'aa looked out upon the still glowing earth. She held but a moment to bask in its fiery heat before racing upwards to hang above the scars and craters. Looking down the fox tilted its head as she traced the swirling lines she had burned through the desert floor. As she looked upon her work the sand that had been burning the whole time began to cool. As it did it began to glimmer in the light of the remaining fires.
Anat'aa watched as a great spiral of glass formed from her landing. But while she undeniably found beauty in it, she found herself unsatisfied with it as it was. She descended to the dark glossy surface, her reflection being cast and reflected off of a thousand surfaces. Leaning down she touched the black glass with her nose and spoke to it softly "Remain not as you are. Burn, burn and change. And with your change, burn and change the world."
As she whispered to the glass in the fissures a fire shone deep within the glass. A fire that grew brighter and brighter by the whispered command. Soon the glass within the fissures began to glow with a light all their own. The fire within them burned hotter still and a deep crack split the middle of the central crater. Soon the hissing gargle of magma bubbled out of the crack and began to spill down the spiraling glass fissures. Still standing at the center of the now filling pool Anat'aa watched with newfound satisfaction. Around her a platform of black glass had formed, as the fire within the stone dared not approach the fox.
Allowing herself a vulpine smile at her progress, the fox walked forward towards the lip of the platform. As her first foot fell from the platform it met with glass once more, as did the second, and so on until she had once more reached the craters edge. Looking out over the flowing magma channels, which were already spilling out into various magma fields. The goddess of fire was happy with the beauty that she saw. She descended from the crater, bounding from one lava flow to the next. As she did more glassed platforms appeared behind her.
Turning to her creation when she reached the end of the largest of lava flows she issued one more request to it,
'There will be those born of this world, they will come to you. They will try to cross you. You will test them, test their cunning, test their will." Her vulpine smile growing broader as she spoke, Anat'aa finished "Don't make it easy"
A deep rumble answered her as the magma streams intensified, soon seemingly random waves of molten rock began to wash over the glass platforms Anat'aa had left in her wake.
Laughing to herself, Anat'aa bounded once more away into the world. She knew others had landed elsewhere, and she was determined to find them. She wanted dance with them, and share in this newfound freedom of creation. For as she was sure they had all been made to witness, infinity was before them.
No sense in letting it slip by.
Anat'aa willingly crash lands on Galbar as a meteor storm made of fire. After reforming she finds she her crash has made a spiral of glass made from the melted sands of her landing. Wanting to improve upon this she creates Galbar's first volcano within the spiral and floods its arms with magma to create the magma fields for the volcano. Thus finalizing her first holy place, The Glass Spiral. As she leaves to find other gods she issues it a blessing, the will to act as her trial for the mortals to come.
-1 for creation of holy place (modified to +2 for domain, bonus +1 spent on blessing for holy place)
The light of the Khodex spilled out into empty cosmos, twisting and spiraling within the darkness flitting along the shockwaves of creation being borne inexorably into the darkness. Yet even this light, scattered and broken along the darkness as it was, felt the pull of the first word and command of the universe that issued out into the darkness.
Come
The light wavered at this first of commands, its scattering stopping even as the force of the shockwaves would have carried them forward. It hung there writhing in its own inaction that to it seemed necessary for reasons it could not begin to articulate. So it was that in this inaction did the light begin to condense, at first it was simple small motes of light no larger than flitting spots that began to collect and rub against another, then more and more strands and treads of the scattered light were drawn to this condensation. Faster and faster were they drawn to this now central point of light, brighter and brighter did they get, and as they did a new feeling spread across the light.
Heat.
As they drew into and upon themselves the light was growing hotter and hotter, and as it grew hotter the light grew brighter and brighter. Soon this nucleus of gathered light and heat began to cast off tendrils of itself that searched for purchase in the darkness but finding none fell back into the whole. Still it collected light, and still did that light create heat, a self fueling system that continued on and on until the light had consumed itself totally into the nucleus.
Finally a last scrap of light, perhaps even the smallest of them all, came to hang above the roiling nucleus of heat and light. Slowly did it spiral down to the surface of the thing, and lightly did it touch it. And in that instance did the nucleus tear and split open in roaring explosion, turning in on itself as it condensed further in the new inferno. The new form that emerged new its name as well as it knew the roar of its previous self, Anat'aa.
Laughing and embracing herself as the fire of the nucleus finally fully fell into her did she dance in the darkness, the sound of her laughter echoing like that first explosion in the dark, sparks flew from her as she did but dutifully came back to her as she danced. But her revelry was cut short as the second command issued out, more insistent, less to be ignored.
So did Anat'aa return to the Khodex, her smile as broad as her light as she looked upon the scroll. Reaching out her hand wisps of fire curled out to touch and inscribe upon the codex the knowledge of itself and her. The words appeared where the wisps touch, burned into the scroll with a delicate hand. So did Anat'aa inscribe her essence into the scroll, and in doing so was nothing spared from the changing touch of fire that none that know its caress are left the same.
Anat'aa is formed from the errant light of the Khodex and the heat its coalescence created. After this she inscribes her name upon the codex and alongside it the natural rules of fire (chemically changing things as they burn, melting ores, etc.)
Expenditures: -4 MP to help create the universe and inscribe the rules of fire
The ember dancer, the running spark, The kindling patron, Hearth Mistresses, She of the inferno
Domain Fire
In the dark woods, among the first snow a man huddles next to a small fire, its glow offers comfort, its warmth saves him from a shivering death. When he sleeps this little fire is forgotten and catches to a nearby tree, its glow becomes searing fear, its heat becomes a roaring death. It is this capricious, if beautiful, waltz is what fire is at the core and what Anat'aa envelopes. Hers is the touch that can spark a wildfire that sweeps all before, of the breath the stokes the dying embers of tavern fire surrounded by the laughter of old friends. Fire in all forms is contained and released by her unfortunate whim.
Description
Anat'aa shares the capriciousness of her domain, her kindness can quickly turn into disaster, her wrath shaped into a constructive tool. As with fire the difference of these extremes is a matter of remembrance and respect, remember her kindness and respect her wrath and the fire will remember and respect you. She has a tendency to involve herself with the world directly, as she likes to watch the fires of the mortals burn in their souls and hearths. Unfortunately for said mortals this usually takes the form of various tricks and what Anat'aa would call "harmless jokes". When dealing with other gods Anat'aa could seem flighty as a flickering flame, listening to their words and the intent behind them but her eyes on a far distant fire. But if a tempting enough offer is made they are soon to find the full extent of her attention, whatever form that may take.
The ember dancer, the running spark, The kindling patron, Hearth Mistresses, She of the inferno
Domain Fire
In the dark woods, among the first snow a man huddles next to a small fire, its glow offers comfort, its warmth saves him from a shivering death. When he sleeps this little fire is forgotten and catches to a nearby tree, its glow becomes searing fear, its heat becomes a roaring death. It is this capricious, if beautiful, waltz is what fire is at the core and what Anat'aa envelopes. Hers is the touch that can spark a wildfire that sweeps all before, of the breath the stokes the dying embers of tavern fire surrounded by the laughter of old friends. Fire in all forms is contained and released by her unfortunate whim.
Description
Anat'aa shares the capriciousness of her domain, her kindness can quickly turn into disaster, her wrath shaped into a constructive tool. As with fire the difference of these extremes is a matter of remembrance and respect, remember her kindness and respect her wrath and the fire will remember and respect you. She has a tendency to involve herself with the world directly, as she likes to watch the fires of the mortals burn in their souls and hearths. Unfortunately for said mortals this usually takes the form of various tricks and what Anat'aa would call "harmless jokes". When dealing with other gods Anat'aa could seem flighty as a flickering flame, listening to their words and the intent behind them but her eyes on a far distant fire. But if a tempting enough offer is made they are soon to find the full extent of her attention, whatever form that may take.
Luisa stood alone looking out across the fields of Palysos that sat awash in the dying sun, her guard present but not close as their ruler took in the sights of this most beautiful province. Grain and grasses swayed as the heat of the day began to give way to the cool of night. Reaching out and grasping one of the longer blades, Luisa plucked it turning it over in her hands as she considered the position she was now in.
The Republic was stable for now, but now it was faced with a decision for the world at large, one to fight or to abandon those who may need it the most. On one hand was a struggle for which there seemed to be no end, on the other was to be marked as a nation of cowards by the world and the histories that would be written of this time.
"Which do we sacrifice on the altar, others and our dignity to buy us at best more time. Or those bright faced of our youth, to perhaps staunch the bleeding wound that has now appeared. Do we live as cowards or die in some far distant field, which scythe do I bring to the fields of my people?" Luisa silently studies the grass in her hand as she for a moment thinks to herself, clenching her hand she crushes it and holds it aloft, the breeze sweeping it up and carrying it aloft into the setting sun. Turning towards it, Luisa let the final warmth of the day wash over her, her eyes closed. Reaching out and beckoning to one of her guard, who approaches before bowing slightly as she speaks.
"Captain. I need word sent to my commanders as fast as you can relay them, Bettino is to marshal the army and occupy the territories along our boarder with Paranas. He is to build a defensive line there and await further instructions, but he is free to do whatever he thinks necessary to bring our forces to a fighting condition. Tell Sotiris I want a comprehensive plan of attack on my desk before too long. I want the same from Admiral Iraklis, it is time to remind the world whos waters they sail on. As for Maria, tell her that I must look over a few things while mull over her... offer."
Bowing once more, the Gaurd will depart wordlessly. Luisa did not know if her words had stunned him or had brought about a hardened resolve, but at this moment she did not care. "Let those who read our names in the histories know this. The Republic is not a nation of cowards."
DracoLunaris
Lord Zee
Fetzen
Noctis
King of Rats
Crispy Octopus
Eviledd1984
DX3214
