The Great Lens A vast expanse of the night sky that drastically amplifies the brightness of starlight while simultaneously creating a curtain of light from their brilliance that dances beautifully across the heavens. This is visible only within the central thirty or so percent of the continent.
The Lesser Lens
A necklace of excellent craftsmanship with a pendant composed of mirror-like crystal capable of siphoning, trapping, and releasing light at the user’s behest. Can emit a flash of light of variable brightness relative to how much light is held within it, as well as make a space totally bereft of light or illuminate a space to a variable degree depending on the light held within. Now imbued with power greater still, the Lesser Lens can generate its own light for its center is composed of light in liquid form, swirling like a hurricane around the jet black marble that is its ‘eye’. The Lens may now focus and manipulate light within the vicinity of the wearer in addition to creating incredibly bright ‘flashes’ or even persistently blinding screens of illumination. So too can the pendant continuously siphon all illumination from a locale, rendering it darker than any other place ‘cept perhaps the birthplace of shadows themselves, wherever that might be. (Currently in Kaelhmor's possession)
Masquerade - The Shadewalker's Skein This artifact takes the form of a cloak that is either so utterly lightless that it appears to consume light all around it or a shimmering shadeless hue that appears as if it would be translucent, though it is not. It is woven of shadows and deception itself and, as such, is capable of utterly obscuring anything wrapped within its folds. If used by a mortal, it could perfectly hide every aspect of their existence by deceiving the senses of others who look upon it. When worn by a god, the artifact can conceal them from others of their kind perfectly…except perhaps with an expenditure of might. Notably, though it can be damaged, the cloak will naturally repair itself by absorbing shadows and seeding them with the lies of nearby mortals. (Currently in Ashevelen's possession)
The Trademaster’s Coin
A Coin crafted by the Mistress of Trade and another unknown to the Lord of Light and Lies--Oa’qeisskesi--this ornate artifact of golden hue is possessed of a number of divinely inspired traits. Before the Lord of Light's influence it could replicate itself unending, but now the Coin can detect deception, assist in the keeping of secrets, and even lead the wielder to the truth of things in time. Furthermore, the Coin serves as the linchpin for the binding oath between Kaelhmor and Ashevelen. Should the coin rebinding be broken, so too would the coin's creations gain an air most foreboding and an indelible mark upon it surface. The Coin itself would be sundered by this process, rendering it to useless scraps. (Currently in Ashevelen's possession)
Lhumina
Kaelhmor’s first avatar, Lhumina is the Lady of Bright Skies and Shadows Darker Still. She is his agent, his confidante, a reflection of his nature wrapped in the guise of a dark-skinned beauty with glowing golden eyes and a veil of purest Illumination. She is the seed from which Deception grows and the source from which enlightenment can be gleaned.
Bound by Light; Blessed by Shadow Ashevelen & Kaelhmor A TimeMaster and yoshua171 collab.
Step-by-step through a new world with new possibilities. A village, a town, the smallest of settlements, barely a collection of tents. Each was touched by his invisible influence, by the subtle hand of deception, guiding their fates in new directions. Undetectable and far less intrusive than most deities. Those mortals whose lives were bettered by his whims would never know that he had helped them, and that was altogether fine. Yet, Kaelhmor knew, better than anything else perhaps, that oh so few would understand that they would not accept him for what he was but instead for what they thought him to be: a liar, a scoundrel, a cheat.
Near the end, before he'd been whisked to this place on thoughts of a better world, a more merciful existence, somewhere, he could eventually be accepted, even if only through another sort of lie, another veil of deception, he had embraced that role. He'd had little choice, for every other path had been denied him, and so to survive, he'd had to be genuinely vile, if only for the sake of his continued existence.
It had pained him, driven a wedge into the fabric of his soul that had almost split him asunder, almost driven him mad. When he'd been pulled away from it, summoned to this place--if by his own desires or those of another he did not know--it had been a blessing, a relief, a balm. Still, spite had nestled its roots into his soul, and the seeds of old resentment and deep-set rage had sunk in their claws and built a nest for their young so that they might one day wreck their will upon the world. Vengeance. He wanted it; he could not deny that fact, though it once would have been unthinkable, kind and forgiving as he was.
Yet, these gods...though he'd yet to meet them, they did not know him, they had not harmed him...yet. His mind screamed that single word whenever he had the thought, the intrusive worm in his divine skull insisting that though they had not...that they surely would. He wouldn't give them the chance.
Realizing that a dark look had come over his features and that a terrible pallor now rested in a veil across his person, Kaelh took a deep breath and set his mind on brighter things. He had a chance here and through him, so too did the future of oh so many mortals. He could bring about such things that he'd only dreamed of in his so-called 'home,' his birthplace. His once-prison.
So lost in thought as he was, however, Kaelh did not at first notice that he'd slipped onto a well-worn trail in the earth and that some distance away, he could swear he saw and sensed someone. Shrugging to himself, he continued forward. It was not as if they could sense his nature either way. There would be no threat to him, not with the veil he'd cast from darkness and deception. Not with the new power he'd come to master, the Illumination that now rested atop the foundation of his soul, wrapping the power of Deception in a blinding skein of Primordial Light.
Besides, what were the chances of coming across another god in such a place so far from anything important?
—
Once more on the road. This time with an actual purpose. The bazaar still needed exquisite merchandise, which was currently lacking. Artifacts of power, special animals, and the sorts were all in high demand. Her own merchandise was already being sold, but more was needed, if other divines created things that could be sold and that they don’t use, perfect. They can buy them later on if they do end up needing them.
Ashevelen’s form was of an old elf, carrying a bag in two extremely wrinkled hands. If one would look upon her face, they could swear she lived through the creation of the world and will live long after it’s destroyed. Whistling a tune almost as old as time, she walked a well-worn trail. Half-hoping she’ll find mortals that would simply wish to trade with such an old lady thinking it will be an easy trade and realizing way too late that they’re dealing with the Goddess of it.
As she walked, Ashevelen’s senses flared in danger. Raising her head, she looked further up the road. Using her divine eyesight to the fullest of her ability, nothing seemed amiss. Until something moved and kept moving, but then, there was nothing around. Curious. Thinking that whatever it must be, it would be something valuable, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her shadow-sense flared up to 100, and there was something there. Moving yet unseen. Lifting a hand in the air, a cage made of shadow appeared all around her immediate area, hoping that whatever she sensed would’ve been caught in it.
“ Whatever you are, make yourself visible if you understand me. ” shouted Ashevelen as her form changed in a tornado of shadows to reveal her true godly form.
It seemed that the chances were, ultimately, not in his favor as rather suddenly a divine presence flared into being and shadows spread out in a vast cage to trap him. While that fell power strayed far from his form, merely closing off escape, Kaelh nonetheless found himself frustrated that he’d allowed himself to relax. Sucking his teeth–though the sound went unheard–Kaelhmor sighed and as the goddess called out, he braced himself.
Though yet to reveal his presence, Kaelhmor raised his hands in a placating gesture as he removed the hood from his features and subtly flexed his power such that the cloak would release its hold on his presence and visage.
“My sincerest apologies, fair traveler; I didn't mean to startle you,” said the silver-tongued god, each word the truth.
While before, his visage had been one of green and gold, his newly acquired power had changed the truth of his being. So it was that as he unveiled himself, gentle gold-white light spilled off from his visage in shimmering rays that delighted the senses and pressed at the mind. There was something strange about that light as if it were more than mere physical illumination.
Furthermore, peeking from beneath the now shimmering jet-black fabric of his cloak could be seen circling sigils of light etched in his body. Though he was garbed, the illumination still somehow found a way to slip through the cracks. Thus he was limned and haloed in light, rays draping over him like a second veil, though this one did not obscure him.
Taking a step forward, Kaelhmor dipped into an elaborate bow before rising once more to his full height to meet the eyes of the goddess who stood now some distance away. “I mean you no harm and would be glad to converse, especially if you’d be so kind as to dismiss your cage of shadows.”
Smiling lightly, as if faintly amused rather than threatened or annoyed, Kaelh let the quiet hang waiting for her to fill it anew.
As soon as the hood went down, Ashevelen felt the presence of a new divine. Even more curious than before, a divine she couldn’t see was one thing but one that she couldn’t feel, see or hear? That was something interesting. Very interesting. Quickly looking at their form, she quickly realized why. The hood was some kind of artifact meant specifically to hide them from the sight of prying eyes, divine as they may be. A similar ability to her own to hide from mortals but a bit better.
With a flick of her wrist the cage disappeared, and with her right hand, she threw a coin in their direction. Gently.
“ Apologies brother. I took you for a monster. A sign of my deepest apologies, take the coin and throw it at any shadow. It will take you to my realm, feel free to choose anything in the Bazaar as your payment. Now, where are my manners? ” said Ashe with a nod and bow “ I am Ashevelen, Lady of the Trade and Shadows, and may I say, that is a very interesting cloak you’ve got. Haven’t seen something like that in eons. ”
A small smile and a nod from the cloak-clad deity as his hand effortlessly caught the coin. Briefly, Kaelh regarded the trinket with interest before he let his hand fall back to his side. Head tilted slightly as the goddess introduced herself, Kaelhmor found himself chuckling slightly. “It is of little matter, Ashevelen, sister if you prefer. My thanks for the coin. Perhaps sometime soon I will visit this bazaar of yours. As to my nature, I am Kaelhmor, and my domain is that of Illumination.”
Considering his cloak as he did her words, Kaelh raised some of the strange fabric with a hand, rubbing the folds between his fingertips for a brief moment as he thought aloud. “Your kind words are well appreciated, sister Ashe, I thought it might be helpful to sometimes move unseen. After all, don’t we all desire solitude from time to time?” His smile was gentle and bright as he looked up and met her gaze with his golden-green eyes.
Then, moving forward and to his right, almost pacing as he pondered, Kaelh continued. “Lady of Trade is it? I do love a bargain,” he chuckled lightly then, spinning her token back and forth across her fingers. “What do you say to this? My cloak for a favor.”
With a single deft motion, Kaelhmor somehow managed to shift the cloak from his form to a position elegantly draped over his arm where it lay dappled by the light of his visage.
“ Not at all. I enjoy mortals. Losing myself in a marketplace? Traders shouting their wares while trying to attract customers? That’s solitude for me. Alone surrounded by people ” replied Ashe with a wink.
“ The cloak does look interesting, not going to say otherwise but, what favor? What does it entail? For how long? What are the conditions? ” quickly replied Ashe and then started to enumerate all the different types of questions that one might have in a situation like this.
Laughing lightly, Kaelhmor fingered the pendant ‘round his neck as he responded in kind, “Ah, to each their own then, haha. Though I too enjoy some of these things. The activity, the bright minds of mortalkind moving about day-to-day. As to the favor,” he raised his eyes then, meeting hers, “Effective now, I would only ask to avail myself of your shadowcraft, for bright as I am I can only mimic such a thing.”
Stopping several feet from her, he stretched out his cloak-draped arm and flashed her a bright smile.
“A cloak for a cloak, one to move undetected, the other to traverse and hide among the shadows. In exchange of goods, if you will. A trade. What say you, Lady of Shadows; Mistress of Trades?”
“ Hmm, an exchange of goods but not normal goods, are they? I won’t offer you another cloak, that wouldn’t be fitting. I’ve got another offer. I’ll offer you free passage to and from my Shadow Bazaar to any and all locations that someone has used to get inside the bazaar from. I’d say that’s more than fair. ” replied Ashe with a smile.
In truth, earlier that day, she conjured her deep recesses of power and, using the already existing shadow teleportation system, enhanced it tenfold. No longer would one be contained to the location they came in from, but now, one only has to think of a location they wish to arrive at, and if a person has been there before and entered the bazaar through a shadow and that shadow still exists there, they would be teleported to that location…provided that they leave an offering to the Goddess behind in the Shadow Bazaar. The bigger the distance, the bigger the cost. One would be notified inside their mind of the cost, using the Trade Book to keep prices fair, and when they accept, they’ll be teleported.
“Hmm, free passage is it?” Kaelh queried in response, his tone rhetorical, an amused glimmer in his gaze. Pondering her offer, Kaelh slowly began to nod to himself.
“A realm of bargains and exchange. Connecting all and protecting anonymity. A free market, if you will,” Kaelhmor chuckled and then began to nod, “...I like this deal, though I’d ask of you one more thing. You’ve deemed to grant me access to your auspicious home, but I’d bid you grant me one more right in such a place. Though I am no god of craftsmen, surely you recognize the stellar make of this here cloak. So I ask of you this, give me leave to draw ‘pon the essence of your realm, so from such I may create wonders for the world.”
Pausing, he gave her an instant to take in the gravity of his meaning before he flourished one arm, his cloak billowing slightly in the air, catching light, reflecting it, bending and twisting space as it moved. “For this cloak of utter Absence, I ask only for free passage and the material to supply yet greater works to those who will one day be our adherents. What say you to this beneficial bargain, oh Lady of Trade?”
“ ‘Draw upon the essence of your realm,’ you say? Well, that doesn’t sound like something I’m inclined to allow. I can offer you something else, maybe? You’ll get a special offer on the shadow strings that my Umbra produce which would, in other words, mean the exact same thing as the essence of my realm or maybe you want some servants? Say…50 Umbras to change as you see fit? Or some guardians, 20 Satyrs. ” replied Ashe while summoning from her realm one of each mortal species to show exactly what an Umbra/Satyr is.
After a few moments, another creature appeared. A Tarsk, a very big one. A prime specimen. “ Or maybe you would like a steed. These are one of my finest creations, Tarsks, they’re called. Loyal, strong and fast. ”
A counteroffer then, thought the hidden Lord of Lies, veiled by his guise of effervescent Light, illuminating only what he desired. “Perhaps these Umbra might interest me, but riddle me this, fair lady, who’s to say that I cannot garner followers myself? Surely, this saves me some paltry stretch of time, but as you know, we are immortal, rendering such things of little consequence.” Having paused in place to observe the mortal trade that she had offered, an idea struck his mind.
Nonetheless, he did not let such show upon his face as he approached and idly ran a hand over the back of the Tarsk that she had summoned. “I shall endow thee with the cloak, while I acquire free transit to your realm and all places it might be linked. However, as we’ve come to understand, this is an unfair trade, so I will ask of you two small things. The first is this, I would accept only three of your Umbra. These I will teach in my ways and yours as well so that they might spread the gospel of both our doings. Second, I will ask of you this simple thing,” with these words, he met her gaze, his own expression bereft of meaning as he finished.
“I value greatly discretion so that the world may be illuminated only at the proper time. So it is that I request your silence. Speak not, nor record our meeting, my person, or our trade. Should others already know of me or these doings between you and I, you may be free of this oath. In exchange, I will hold you in the same regard, and you may even ask of me a secondary boon.”
Ashevelen smiled at his first argument before replying, " You're saying that you can garner followers yourself but that takes time, resources, and all that. While time ain't nothing to us…it is for certain plans quite important, as you well know. So, why spend time and power to make followers when you can use some already created? "
" I know better than most what the breaking of discretion can do to a business and I usually protect my sources, so, rest assured…this will be between us. And a second boon. Hmm, let's see. I've got this coin, here. " said Ashe while lifting the Self-Printing coin.
" Imbue it with the power to sense if one is being lied to, but this ability should only be available if one of my Umbra has a coin. Can you do that? "
“Certainly,” Kaelhmor replied in regards to her request. As easily as his every movement seemed, he crossed the distance between them and held out his hand to shake. “We shall bind our oath with this coin in hand, and through its power I will endow you with your boon as you have requested.”
As he spoke, a subtle tension gathered upon the surface of his hand, but there was no threat, no danger, no hint of violence, only power gathered and laid bare. Though she could not know it, to shake his hand was a threefold deal, truly a bargain, a trade, a contract greater than any she’d yet to make. After all, it held within it the potential for an Aspect, and the power of two others–one dark and hidden, the other a veil of illuminating light.
Ashevelen, well versed in pacts and the sorts, felt herself being binded to a pact of silence but nothing more. Something felt different but still, a pact was a pact. She wouldn't break it…lest there was a need.
As soon as the pact was done, the Trademaster’s coin shone with light and shifted subtly in appearance. Lifting the coin in the air, Ashevelen looked at it and made a few more to fall on the ground. A gift for whomever might find them.
" Pleasure doing business with you, divine brother. " she replied as three Umbra appeared next to her. Blank versions with no knowledge whatsoever.
" You may need to teach them a thing or two but they're all yours. "
So it was at the moment that their hands were clasped together, with the coin held between their palms that his power blossomed. His eyes widening fractionally, Kaelh nonetheless recovered with a smile, guiding his essence deftly to forge the pact and to infuse the coin with his subtle might.
Thus, as the mistress of trade and shadows lifted the coin into the light she would find it changed, but not only in appearance. Now, any who held the coin could not only detect lies and deception both, but so too could they shine truth upon the matter. With this power, the very essence of Illumination could lead them to the facts and so bring yet more mortals into the light. Likewise, their oath had been bound in a power that Kaelh himself did not yet understand. Still…somehow it felt familiar.
For now, he would put that aside, after all there were proceedings with which he ought to interact. Smiling at Ashevelen, Kaelh then turned his gaze upon the Umbra, heeding her words as he observed them.
At the same time, his mind played across the binding power of their oath. There would be one thing about his work that would likely remain hidden for a time. It turned out that the oath itself was not a thing separate from the coin he’d blessed. For, beyond its capacity for truth, its duplication, and its unveiling of mortal deceptions, so too did the coin hold within it a fourth gift. Bound up as the core of their binding vow, within the heart of the coin’s essential essence, was the power for the wielder to better keep any secrets that they chose to hold within their breast.
For the time that Kaelh had held the coin, aware of the powers he’d bestowed, he’d wished to hold that secret in his heart, and so…even now, after contact had been relinquished, that Secret remained unseen. So it was that for Ashe to break her oath, so too would she break the coin ‘pon which it had been sealed. A fitting punishment for such a thing, he thought, though he hoped it would never be revealed.
“Very good,” Kaelhmor replied, “...I will teach them of us both and send them unto the world to spread the word of our works so that all may know their glory.” Bowing his head respectfully Kaelh then slipped past her and in a flourish, draped his cloak across her shoulders.
“Cherish these gifts as I shall cherish your creations and foster in them greater things. The cloak is Masquerade, the Shadewalker’s Skein. Use it well, fair mistress.” As he began to tread the path once more, gradually growing further, he found a second thought came upon him.
“Ah and do be delicate with the Trademaster’s Coin. It is a precious thing and anyone who comes to possess it ought to be careful with its use.” There was a smile in his tone, though his cautionary words were clearly full with honesty and meaning. That said, he continued onwards, gradually drawing further from their meeting with every step.
It had been fruitful, he admitted, glad that he’d come upon the goddess. Still…now he’d have to find a new cloak. How troublesome.
Kaelhmor meets one of the many gods of the new world, the two trade and haggle with good-natured intentions. Wares are exchanged, and bindings are set in stone, by power and will alone. So is it that Kaelhmor leaves bereft of a cloak and up three followers and a new mode of travel, where Ashevelen is left with a deal, new knowledge, the Shadewalker’s Skein, and the Trademaster’s coin, newly minted.
Ashevelen Start MP - 5 Start AP - 5
-3 MP to create a teleportation system that works via the Shadow Bazaar. As long as someone travelled into the Bazaar from a location, anyone, provided that they pay a fee, will be able to teleport there.
Offscreen -1 AP to teach the Umbra how to turn Shadow Strings into weapons (bows, arrow etc based on current tech)
End MP - 2 End AP - 4
Kaelhmor Starting Might: 5MP / 5AP
2MP to create the Binding Oath and impart it into the Trademaster’s Coin (1MP towards Secrets Aspect). -1MP to empower the TradeMaster’s Coin (1MP towards Secrets Aspect). -2AP(4AP discounted by Illumination and Deception respectively) to empower the TradeMaster’s Coin.
Trademaster’s Coin: Where once it would only duplicate itself unending, now the Trademaster’s Coin can detect deception, assist in the keeping of secrets, and even lead the wielder to the truth of things in time. Additionally, the Coin serves as the linchpin for their binding oath. If their bargain were ever to be violated, the Trademaster’s Coin would be sundered and all the coins it had created left with an indelible mark that would exude an air of wrongness.
He traveled ‘cross roads and plains, over hills, and through valleys, avoiding notice as he pondered future plans. His designs were many, his machinations both intricate and vast in equal measure. Yet, though the road was easy, his path was dark and full of terrors, unseen, unknown, and impossible to predict. So it was that after many musing thoughts, a multitude of manifold reflections on his past, Kaelhmor came to a conclusion.
“It is an agent I require now to do my works while others have turned their gaze to me.”
At the thought spoken into the empty open-air, Kaelhmor felt a dark amusement overtake him, then laughter spilled joyously from his throat. As his jubilation filled his surroundings, the burning moon shining upon his visage, Kaelhmor reached deep within himself and grasped the power at his core. Yet, as he drew upon that power, the new strength he had wrought from his work upon the heavens, and the artifice of his pendant, finally bore fruit. Unexpectedly, as he drew his hand up and outwards from his chest, a blinding burst of light erupted, followed by a tail of inky black and iridescent darkness. Welling up from within him beyond his expectation, this power blossomed outwards and overtook his visage, limning him in golden light that hid entirely the truest Aspect of his nature.
Smiling and struck silent by the revelation of this new power, Kaelh nonetheless turned his mind back upon his goal. Considering his needs, the Lord of Light and Lies, the God of Deception, and Illumination both drew further upon his essence and began to weave it before his form. Shadow and Light–two sides to the same coin–often opposed, now he would unite them. First, the veil of Illumination, a cloak of effervescent brilliance, light so intense that it touched the soul as much as it did the eyes.
Gradually, that veil of light parted to reveal the dark beauty that was his first sapient creation, his agent, his confidante: His avatar.
“Lhumina,” he said, her name a blessing, a gift, and a proclamation too. Blinking, Lhumina’s molten gold gaze, glowing with a light more intense than the sun, or moon, or stars, focused upon his form. Slowly, a gentle smile spread across her features fair, and she bowed her head in thanks to her Lord.
Gently stroking her cheek with the back of his outstretched hand, Kaelh nodded, then turned away and continued on his trek, assuming she would follow. As sure as the sun would rise, she did, following in his footsteps as the moon did to the sun.
“Will you help me, dear child, favored sister, my Lady of Bright Skies and Shadows Darker still?”
Lhumina did not answer, but her visage brightened, her expression growing eager even as the light that limned her form lit the night such that almost it seemed twas dawn. Kaelhmor simply smiled.
“Very good, my starling. Soon, I shall make you a brother, but for now you must work alone. So to you this task I shall give. Work in the light as I would to hide our truer nature. Work in the shadows as I might, to sow the seeds for many better futures far and wide. You will be my beacon in the dark, my Shadow in plain sight, hidden by the bright brilliance of the dawn. Can you do this, avatar, is this your desire, dear Lhumina, first and only child of my soul?”
Stopping in place, half turning to his youngest creation, the only sapience wrought from his essence most divine, Kaelhmor regarded her with a graveness to his bearing, his eyes calculating and cold, yet lit with the warmth of love for what one has most carefully borne unto the world. The love of a father, of a brother, of a craftsman for his craft, of an artist for his art, yet at once the harsh eye of such folk, the judgment of those who care so much as to crush, as to mete out discipline or destruction.
Yet, before that twofold gaze, his avatar did not falter. Lhumina did not blink; she shone only brighter, her shadow growing deeper and longer and fuller all at once. “There is nothing I desire more, my lord. Nothing a yearn for beyond these things. I would be honored, it would bring me joy beyond measure to do this for you. After all, your joy is mine, and I do hope mine is yours,” she bowed her head as she said it, then met his gaze with her own glittering golden eyes.
“I will go now and be a burden no longer, oh Lord of Light, Master of the Blinds, ye Seer of Masked Light.” So it was that Kaelhmor’s judgment melted away into relief and adoration, and so too did Lhumina beam back to her master, her father, her brother, and her lord.
Then, without further words between them, with nary but a glance, Lhumina nodded once and lept into the heavens, her veil flaring out into wings with bones of shade and feathers of purest Illumination. In the next instant, she was gone, flying buoyed by the rays of ruined moonlight. Kaelh smiled fondly after her and then returned to his journey into nowhere, almost content. Yet, inspired by the sight of his avatar’s departure and gladdened by the brilliance of her mind and heart, Kaelh drew out the pendant from his garments and unclasped it from his neck.
As he walked effortlessly over a hilltop, the Lord of Lies and Light regarded his creation and decided that it was time to make it more. So it was that, like a flare, the Lens flashed and sparked beneath the starlight and the ruined, burning moon. At first nothing changed, and then all at once, the pendant’s centerpiece warped into liquid light as if the light had somehow taken on the form of matter. Indeed it had. Within that swirling abyss of brilliance at the pendant’s center, a single bead of darkness shone, all the more empty for the brightness all around it. Smiling, Kaelh etched sigils upon the outer holding of the necklace, each symbol impossible to decipher yet clearly filled to brimming with power and meaning both.
Still smiling and now truly satisfied, Kaelh once more drew his cloak close around his figure and vanished into the night, continuing his travels to a yet undecided destination.
Soon, he knew, soon the Great Game would begin. It was only a matter of time.
In which Kaelhmor claims the Aspect of Illumination, creates Lhumina, his first avatar, and empowers the Lesser Lens with power greater than before.
Starting Might: 5MP / 5AP
-3MP to Claim the Aspect of Illumination. -5AP to Create an Avatar: Lhumina. -2MP to further empower an Artifact: The Lesser Lens (Total might: 3).
Lhumina: Kaelhmor’s first avatar, Lhumina is the Lady of Bright Skies and Shadows Darker Still. She is his agent, his confidante, a reflection of his nature wrapped in the guise of a dark-skinned beauty with glowing golden eyes and a veil of purest Illumination. She is the seed from which Deception grows and the source from which enlightenment can be gleaned.
The Lesser Lens: A necklace of excellent craftsmanship with a pendant composed of mirror-like crystal capable of siphoning, trapping, and releasing light at the user’s behest. Can emit a flash of light of variable brightness relative to how much light is held within it, as well as make a space totally bereft of light or illuminate a space to a variable degree depending on the light held within. Now imbued with power greater still, the Lesser Lens can generate its own light for its center is composed of light in liquid form, swirling like a hurricane around the jet black marble that is its ‘eye’. The Lens may now focus and manipulate light within the vicinity of the wearer in addition to creating incredibly bright ‘flashes’ or even persistently blinding screens of illumination. So too can the pendant continuously siphon all illumination from a locale, rendering it darker than any other place ‘cept perhaps the birthplace of shadows themselves, wherever that might be.
The Aspect of Illumination The brilliance of primordial Light brings clarity to many things, be they physical spaces or the immaterial Truths of the world, they nonetheless fall within the domain of Illumination. Wielding such a power, the divine might alter, create, or destroy physical light with abandon or wield the subtle forces upon the metaphysical, bringing clarity and enlightenment into the world. With the former, beacons of unquenchable brilliance can be created, making darkness flee from the source and bringing sanctuary to the denizens of the world. With the latter, lies and deception can be utterly destroyed, obfuscation obliterated and the confusion and discord of the unknown brought to light. This metaphysical power is the greater of Illumination's twofold nature and it is through wielding this that mortals can be brought to enlightenment, that darkness can be destroyed, and that the mysteries of the world can be unveiled to all.
Still, Illumination is but a tool for the Seer of Masked Light, mastered only so that he might hide behind its incandescent splendor. With its power, he will reveal to mortalkind the truths he desires them to know, while blinding them to all else. With it he will take the guise of Primordial Light unto himself to hide his so-called deceit-filled core.
Tl;dr: Illumination can be used both to literally bring light in the sense of creating or destroying sources to illuminate the physical world. So too can illumination cast metaphysical light onto the world, allowing mortals to make connections they otherwise might not, enhancing the clarity of their thoughts. Through this aspect of Illumination's power, deception can be removed, details revealed, or mysteries unraveled.
In an empty clearing, far from men and mer and things divine, a subtle wind began. It blew with a gentle pressure, tugging at leaves such that they joined it in its swirling dance. Bird calls rang out and entwined with its currents before their source took flight on wings of whimsy and flew buoyed by the curtains of the strange yet joyful gust. Slowly, carefully, the wind's circuit tightened, leaves whirling like a rustling curtain in its grasp as the sun reached its zenith far above.
Burning light shone down into that clear as the wind coiled upwards into a peak. Boughs bent inwards, shadows tugged towards the clearing's center, and the leaves all at once sprayed out from the gale's peak above the trees and scattered outwards in a lazily falling curtain. So, with the light dappled in shimmering shifting patterns upon the forest floor, swirling shadows coiled upwards as if to join the now scattered wind. First, a pillar of darkness, dappled with shimmering sunlight, and then a silhouette resolved itself from the black and gold. A gentle smile formed on handsome features as green-gold eyes swirled into being as lids lifted away from them. From shadows and leaves and dappled sunlight, garments wove themselves into existence upon the pale figure's form
"Ahhh," a breathy sigh left the man's now parted lips as noble garments settled upon his flesh. Moving his eyes slowly, the man cast his gaze across the place in which he'd been whisked. Curiously, he placed a finger to his lips and wet it with his tongue before holding it aloft. The winds cast themselves against his finger gently, filled with whispers and flowing ephemeral script, and at once, a gentle smile stretched his lips. "Somewhere new, perhaps?"
The wind stuttered, then seemed to flee in all directions even as the leaves above him drifted down past him and settled on the ground. Looking upwards, he regarded the sky above with its two burning spheres, one of day, and the other of night, he presumed. He laughed, "How wonderful, a place which has yet to judge, yet to know. Somewhere free of suppositions," his eyes glittered with joy, "...just my favorite sort of place."
Turning away from the heavens, the Seer cast his awareness through the forest and across the land, past boundaries of distance and time, wood and stone and metal. He saw life; he saw truth, he saw lies. There was so much to learn, so many people he could steer for their good or perhaps his own. However, it was not these things that dampened his excitement.
No.
It was the appearance of other sparks like his own, caste from the cosmos, writ divine by the heavens or perhaps whatever else might have summoned him here. He frowned slightly, then smiled and shook his head, "Best not to judge, Kaelhmor. Perhaps they are different than the others. Perhaps they are kinder, better, adaptable, understanding."
He paused, and a dark look crossed his visage and, for a long moment, remained as his eyes clouded with remembrance.
"...or perhaps they are not."
Sighing, the Seer rubbed his temples for a moment before he decided to press on regardless. Walking, though he knew he could run, fly, or even phase through space itself, Kaelhmor spoke once more to himself, knowing none would hear.
"Best I be careful then until I know their measure."
With that said, he made his way to the nearest settlement, far as it was from him, and considered how he might begin his work.
As he walked, the wind quietly followed and lightly subtly clung to the edges of his form. Ah, but what of the shadows? They remained hidden, entirely obscured within the near mortal guise of his form as if wiped from the world entirely and replaced by the regal form he chose to present to others. It was better that way. After all, people--even gods--so often preferred pretty lies to ugly truths.
He'd learned that the hard way, with sweat and blood, misery and rejection.
He would not suffer such again. Not this time. Not in this world.
This time...things would be different.
Quite some time passed before he finally arrived at the outskirts of his destination, a small town filled with the bustling activity of those who lived off the land. As the signs of life became clearer and the sounds of people going about their business reached his ears, Kael smiled and began to hum a slow, relaxed tune. It was light and even joyful as he let the sound be picked up by his companion, the wind, and drift far ahead. As the quiet vibration carried on the wind reached the village and its residents most didn't even notice. Nonetheless, it flitted about, playing with hair, filling ears, and dancing through the central square as it picked up errant leaves and straw and dust. As it picked up the leavings of the people, the evidence of their daily lives, so too did little lies get dragged into the eddies of the wind.
Far away, Kaelhmor's eyes glowed faintly as the whispers returned to him, buoying his joy.
This world was just as full as the last had been.
Picking and choosing, the Lord of Lies, the Seer of Masked Light, Kaelhmor--the God of Deception--altered the course of the town in small, likely imperceptible ways. A farmer's wife who knew of her husband's infidelity managed to convince herself that it wouldn't happen again, not while she was with child. Not while they had a future together.
A young boy, rather than own up to breaking the bowl maker's prized urn, blamed it on his once-friend; after all, such bonds could be broken by the silliest things. Another man, the village blacksmith, had been telling himself for years that he wasn't worthy of companionship and didn't deserve happiness because of the things in his past. That day he worked up the courage to tell someone he needed help. From that, a burgeoning friendship would be born, and later...perhaps a romance.
How wonderful, mused the deity as he changed the course of his path slightly so he would simply pass by the village rather than through it. Yet, as he moved, he considered the greater course of his actions. What could he do now to ensure his own future?
After all, interaction with the other divines of this world was an inevitable thing, and he certainly could not tell them his deepest truth. They would think him vile, or...at least some would take issue with what they would assume to be his deceitful nature. Then, an idea struck him.
Perhaps this place gave him options that the prior had not. Eyes shining now with hope as well as power, he searched within his breast for the essence of his power, and as sure as rain fell over the ocean, there indeed lay something new. Where before one pool of deific might had dwelled, now there were two, one deeper, inherent, the other equal in size, but somehow...more diffuse. Grasping the new essence, Kaelhmor drew it from the depths of his core and out into the world. It shone brighter than the sun, brighter than every star in the vast and endless multiverse; it blinded and deafened and rendered him mute and dumb for an instant. Then he reined in its power and dulled it to a subtle glow within his grasp and realized that it was not more diffuse, nor was it even lesser than the power at his heart. No, instead, it was brimming with great potential but bereft of singular purpose.
"Intriguing," he pondered quietly aloud, his voice catching upon the wind and dissipating swiftly. Slowly, a smile lit his eyes as he realized what this revelation meant, how it could change the fate that he'd long since thought had been set for him by another, greater force. With this, he could reinvent himself and remake his image by presenting only the truths that he desired others see. He could be more than the Great Serpent; he could avoid being known as the Enemy, the Pariah...the Lord of Lies. As the possibilities of a better future, a kinder one, opened up before him, Kael found himself laughing out of pure adulation. Then he remembered all he'd had to endure, and a darker sort of amusement filtered through the light.
He could hide behind a multifaceted mask and at once play the Game. He could have some small revenge upon the universe and yet avoid the constant judgment of others.
Delicious.
Taking in a deep breath of this world's fresh air, Kaelhmor considered his first move upon the board and then cast his will out into this new existence.
As if knowing the mischief he had in mind, a single star winked in the heavens, and Kaelhmor winked back. Gradually, the world slipped into night, revealing the burning moon in all its ruined glory. Of course, so too did it reveal the many stars, which multiplied by the moment, their light casting down upon the earth in a gentle curtain of rippling light of many shades.
It was to be his first gift to the world. At least the first one that any would recognize and the only one he intended to admit to.
The Great Lens.
It was a vast cosmic filter that amplified far-off light and focused it into the rippling Veil that now was writ across the sky. He wished it could have been grander, expanding over the entirety of the sky, but his power was simply too sparse for that, his mastery too little. Nonetheless, it was a step in the right direction. Though it would only be visible over perhaps thirty or so percent of the continent, it was at least positioned in the middle where a great many might bask in its ephemeral warmth. Still unsatisfied with his work, Kaelh pondered what else he might do with what little of this new power remained within his bosom.
Toying with the energy as he walked, Kaelhmor eventually settled on a small and relatively plain pendant. Though, he supposed that it would likely appear rather impressive to a mortal, as the craftsmanship was undoubtedly exceptional. After all, he could hardly have his creations be entirely drab. Focusing the power held within its vessel, Kaelhmor channeled the same potential as he had with the Great Lens, then tweaked its precise manifestation.
What resulted was the Lesser Lens, a Pendant with a mirror-like crystal that could trap light within its core and release it at the wearer's behest. As it was now, it was a simple thing, capable of darkening a room to pitch or illuminating it to the wearer's preference, as well as emitting a blinding flash. It was not his proudest accomplishment. Still, as he gazed upon it he felt a gentle affection rise in his chest. Some day he would divest more of his power into the Artifact, but for now, this would do.
Donning the necklace, for now, Kaelhmor continued on his way, all the while keeping his senses on the world around him, stretched to their limits. Until he was ready, he would avoid the other gods. With his power, it was a paltry task. Still, to ensure he remained concealed until he wished it, Kaelhmor had woven a cloak from the shadows he gathered, and as if it were soil, he'd sown the seeds of man's lies, their self-deceptions, and every false perception they'd ever had or would have. So had been born, Masquerade, the Shadewalker's Skein. It was a cloak of purest black, darker than pitch, and more profound than a lightless cavern's darkness. It was so bereft of light, in fact, that it crossed back over into a total lack of color, its hue a gossamer shimmer that from one angle consumed light and at another did not exist at all. It hid not only his presence and his form, but so too did it veil his power and his very imprint on the world. Anything held within its folds might as well not have existed at all.
For now, that was what he wished. That no one knew he existed.
In time, that necessity would fall away, and finally, he could begin to meet the other deities of this realm.
He looked forward to that day, but for now...he walked and pondered the future, slowly planning each of his many moves upon the great board of the game that was existence.
Someday, others might realize that they too were playing.
Until then...he would prepare.
Kaelhmor is whisked into the world, realizes that in this place, he holds a power he never had before–the power to change his fate–and so sets out to do so. In the process, he creates the Great Lens–amplifying the brightness and warmth of starlight at the continent's center, as well as two artifacts: Masquerade - The Shadewalker’s Skein, and the Lesser Lens. Donning the shimmering cloak that utterly conceals him and the pendant of mirror-like light-trapping crystal Kaelhmor continues on his seemingly aimless journey.
As he does so, he subtly alters the possible fates of several villagers with well-placed deceptions and ponders how precisely to change his fate…and work his revenge upon the universe at large.
Starting Might: 5MP / 5AP
-4MP to Create the Great Lens (3MP towards Illumination Aspect) -1MP to create the Lesser Lens. -5AP to create Masquerade - The Shadewalker’s Skein.
The Great Lens: A vast expanse of the night sky that drastically amplifies the brightness of starlight while simultaneously creating a curtain of light from their brilliance that dances beautifully across the heavens. This is visible only within the central thirty or so percent of the continent.
The Lesser Lens: A necklace of excellent craftsmanship with a pendant composed of mirror-like crystal capable of siphoning, trapping, and releasing light at the user’s behest. Can emit a flash of light of variable brightness relative to how much light is held within it, as well as make a space totally bereft of light or illuminate a space to a variable degree depending on the light held within. Appears totally mundane unless being actively used.
The Shadewalker’s Skein: This artifact takes the form of a cloak that is either so utterly lightless that it appears to consume light all around it or a shimmering shadeless hue that appears as if it would be translucent, though it is not. It is woven of shadows and deception itself and, as such, is capable of utterly obscuring anything wrapped within its folds. If used by a mortal, it could perfectly hide every aspect of their existence by deceiving the senses of others who look upon it. When worn by a god, the artifact can conceal them from others of their kind perfectly…except perhaps with an expenditure of might. Notably, though it can be damaged, the cloak will naturally repair itself by absorbing shadows and seeding them with the lies of nearby mortals.
It was good to hear some more information on his teammates’ capabilities, not only because it was fascinating to learn about other parahuman’s powers, but also because it was exceptionally useful to know what he’d have to work with. As he considered the composition of their team based on Aaliyah, Carmen and Jane’s explanations, another individual arrived. Tilting his head slight, Caiden raised an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking the edges of his lips. He had no idea who the brunette was, but she seemed nice enough. Stepping forward, he held out a hand to greet the newcomer (Aurorea/Eleanore), giving her a winning smile as he did so, “I’m Caiden–Crosspoint if we’re talking business–it’s nice to have you.” Whether she shook his hand or not, Caiden would glance back at the others briefly before continuing.
“Feel free to introduce yourself to the others. We were just briefing eachother on our capabilities before we are all shipped off to our first little mission at the museum. Might be best to get you up to speed on the way there, but do feel free to let us know what you’ve got up your sleeve power-wise haha.” As the words slipped from his lips with casual confidence, he flashed her another friendly smile and gave her a wink before craning his neck slightly to the side to regard the others who’d been lingering at the edges of the group.
“Looks like we’ve got quite the assortment of teammates. Heh, I bet it’s more than Mr. F bargained for. I suppose we’ll have to do our bargain best not to give him too much trouble eh?” As he said the words, there was a sly amusement in his gaze, as if he had no intention of being easy on the Director.
With a small laugh, Caiden beckoned the others to join the group. “It might get a bit crowded, but feel free to huddle up.” With that said, he turned from them and found somewhere out of the way to lean against a wall, regarding everyone with interest. While he remained there he considered what Bev had given them regarding the Museum’s layout. That would surely be helpful, especially in tangent with Aaliyah’s portals. Still, it was hard to say precisely how things would pan out until they were on the scene.
Though many would have you believe otherwise, reality does not bow to the senses and it is from this essential truth that Deception is born. The Aspect of lies, be it through falsehoods or omission, Deception can confound the senses, obscure the truth, or replace facts with all-too-believable falsehoods. Wielding this power, the Lord of Lies–the Seer of Masked Light–is capable of conjuring illusions, misleading the thoughts of others through clever omission, and indeed constructing falsehoods so believable that they are difficult to detect.
Embodying this power, Kaelhmor is the Trickster God, the Master of Illusions, and the Lord of Lies. With this Aspect he will deceive the world and so lead it according to his aims.
♦Illumination♦
♦ ♦
The brilliance of primordial Light brings clarity to many things, be they physical spaces or the immaterial Truths of the world, they nonetheless fall within the domain of Illumination. Wielding such a power, the divine might alter, create, or destroy physical light with abandon or wield the subtle forces upon the metaphysical, bringing clarity and enlightenment into the world. With the former, beacons of unquenchable brilliance can be created, making darkness flee from the source and bringing sanctuary to the denizens of the world. With the latter, lies and deception can be utterly destroyed, obfuscation obliterated and the confusion and discord of the unknown brought to light. This metaphysical power is the greater of Illumination's twofold nature and it is through wielding this that mortals can be brought to enlightenment, that darkness can be destroyed, and that the mysteries of the world can be unveiled to all.
Still, Illumination is but a tool for the Seer of Masked Light, mastered only so that he might hide behind its incandescent splendor. With its power, he will reveal to mortalkind the truths he desires them to know, while blinding them to all else. With it he will take the guise of Primordial Light unto himself to hide his so-called deceit-filled core.
Tl;dr: Illumination can be used both to literally bring light in the sense of creating or destroying sources to illuminate the physical world. So too can illumination cast metaphysical light onto the world, allowing mortals to make connections they otherwise might not, enhancing the clarity of their thoughts. Through this aspect of Illumination's power, deception can be removed, details revealed, or mysteries unraveled.
Persona ♦Charismatic ♦ Clever ♦ Dishonest♦
♦♦♦
An enigmatic and thoughtful being of endless guile, Kaelhmor is not the sort of person that one would immediately identify as a liar or a scoundrel. Far from it, in fact, for he is at his face, a charming and silver-tongued deity, a being who chooses each and every word with effortless care. He is intelligent and has a gaze that stretches far beyond the present and into the moments that follow long after his path has crossed with yours.
He is slow to anger, easy to amuse, and often gentle even in his manipulations. He is not–as one might think–a compulsive liar and rather is quite pleasant to treat with. However, be warned, for Kaelhmor is still the Lord of Lies and while he is not compelled to falsehoods, he can lie more easily than mortals breathe, more readily than gods create or destroy, and to attempt to discern his true intent is a thing nearing impossibility. Further, while the Seer is slow to anger, his fury is no less terrible than any other god’s and thus one ought be wary of insulting him.
Myth
♦ ♦
Aniryn woke that morning with a fire beneath his feet, driving him from his bed with great vigor, yet it was not to shy from heat but rather to exploit the energy it provided. Moving through his morning routine, he dressed before departing his home. He greeted his neighbors as he closed his door, slinging a pack over his shoulder as he did so. The blue-eyed man pushed the damp mop of his black hair from his eyes as he surveilled the small settlement in the early morning. Many men and women were up despite the hour, getting about their morning chores and errands before the day's heat beat down upon their heads. Intent on using every minute well, Aniryn joined them, moving with purpose as he greeted each and every one of his fellow villagers.
He'd taken up residence in the town some months ago, and now, having nested for such a time, he'd deemed this the day that things would truly begin. So as he moved through the sparse crowd and greeted his many neighbors with friendly 'good mornings' and glad tidings of the new day, he likewise slipped in suggestions of business later on. Having sewn the seeds of commerce for many moons, he would finally begin to reap his rewards as he opened up shop in the village square and gently coaxed his fellow man beneath the awnings of his small open-air shop.
The first two men to approach did so with their wives beside them, the men pretending at disinterest while the women admired his wares. Necklaces and earrings, pretty baubles for adornment, but the most prized of his creations lay hidden and out of sight as he waited to strike. Eventually, the two couples decided on a necklace and a bracelet respectfully, but before they could entirely depart, he companionably snared one husband's shoulder and whispered to the man conspiratorially.
"You know, I do have something that might catch your discerning eye," Aniryn said with a small smile and a twinkle in his eye. The man narrowed his gaze as he replied.
"I have no interest in your trinkets, Aniryn."
Aniryn held his hands up defensively, placating. "Ah, no mere trinkets, I'd not bother you with anything like that."
The husband raised an eyebrow, interest piqued, and turned to follow the merchant as they returned to his stall, just the two of them. Carefully, Aniryn unveiled the chest behind his table, then slowly opened its lid, revealing a small arrangement of rings and what at first appeared to be bracelets. The man glanced Aniryn's way, scoffing, "I thought you said you wouldn't be wasting my time." Aniryn shook his head.
"Never, sir, I don't waste the time of my valued customers."
Picking up one of the rings, Aniryn turned it over for the man to see the masterful craftsmanship. The man narrowed his eyes, "It is well made, I must admit, but that's hardly anything special."
Aniryn chuckled, "Well, it must at least be well made to be something worthy of you sir. However, its value is not in its appearance but in its function. With this ring, nothing will be out of your reach, sir."
"Hah, surely you jest. There is no such magic as this."
Aniryn only smiled, "Tell you what, I'll ask only a pittance of what you paid for your wife's jewelry, but if it does work...spread the word." For a long several moments, the man watched Aniryn's expression as if looking for the scheme, but he found nothing. So, after another moment's hesitation, he paid for the ring and departed. Long after he was gone, Aniryn chuckled to himself and turned back to coaxing others to his shop.
---
For the husband--Telor's--part little of note happened on his way home. Though he did happen upon some dropped coinage that surely brightened their day. When Telor and his wife Lin arrived at their house, however, something was different. There was a small crowd gathered, staring at his home as if in awe. Confused--though flattered--Telor spoke with them for a time, finding that they'd been stricken by the renovations they had made. Yet, Telor could not recall any changes at all. When he'd managed to get his neighbors to disperse and enter the house, all was as they left it.
Days passed, and things were always subtly better. People treated him and his family with more grace. Sometimes giving him gifts for no reason. The feud between him and the Hershells family ended, and they feasted together without a single screaming match, let alone any blows being thrown. Even his wife seemed to nag him less.
Yet...Telor did not keep his promise, and eventually, he one day took the ring off to bathe. Soon it was as if the world had turned harsh upon him. He slipped and fell in the bath, hurting his knee; one of the Hershell boys started a fight with his young son, leaving bruises and several unsightly gashes. Some men and women of the village even left nasty letters at his doorstep. Yet...he was unable to find the ring as if it had disappeared entirely.
Desperate, Telor returned to Aniryn's shop, this time alone.
Aniryn smiled and greeted Telor the same as always, but Telor took him in his hands and shook the merchant, rambling on about how he was cursed, about how Aniryn must have come and stolen the ring from him. Aniryn shrugged and gave him a small smile as he admitted that it was true.
"I did take the ring back. After all, you didn't keep your end of the bargain." Telor gapped and raised a fist, but Aniryn put a hand gently on his shoulder. "There's no need for that; we're friends, aren't we? Tell you what, you pay for the ring full price, and it is yours. I'll bother you no more. However, as before, you must spread the word of my wares."
Telor hesitantly agreed, desperate to go back to the idyllic life that apparently the ring had allowed him. So, he paid his fee, donned the ring, and vowed to tell others of Aniryn's wonders. In the days that followed, his life improved marginally, bit by bit, but it never seemed to be the miraculous thing that he'd known before. No, he was far too paranoid for that. Still, Aniryn's shop became the bustling center of the town, his already stellar reputation coupled with Tellor's kind words bringing much of the village's population to his doorstep--so to speak.
Soon, everyone had some bauble or trinket from his shop, all at full price though some thought themselves saving money in the transaction. Aniryn was good like that. With time the village grew such that it no longer could be governed simply by rumors and the whims of the commonfolk. So it was that a man named Chaisyl was raised to power. Now the governor, Chaisyl was shrewd and always on top of the gossip and the village's needs. Best of all, though, he'd purportedly bought the foremost of Aniryn's unique pieces. His was a necklace that he hid beneath his garments, never removing it from his flesh.
Yet, there was something that the townspeople began to notice about Chaisyl. He was off somehow. Though he wasn't displeasing to look upon, he wasn't precisely charming either, nor was he particularly well-spoken. Yet, all who walked away from their encounters with him found themselves feeling reassured. Yet, the village's functioning slipped somewhat, and its growth slowed. Eventually, Aniryn's shop closed up, and he said his farewells. One night, eight years later, a mischievous teen found his way into the governor's office where he found numerous documents...forged or falsified. He found evidence of the man's lies. His subtle manipulations, his impossible assurances.
There was a riot, the man was strung up in the field at a tree, and the villagers moved along with their lives.
But they were all less joyful for having killed the governor, but none of them could figure precisely why. Eventually, people came to doubt Aniryn's leftover jewelry, his rings and bracelets, and necklaces too. With the passing of days, they were discarded, and though nothing changed, everything was different. Neighbors were less kind to one another, crops seemed less bountiful, days less warm, while nights were colder. The world was bleaker, perhaps.
Yet, none of them quite knew why.
They never would.
Perhaps one day, a story would be told of the place and how the Lord of Lies had walked among them, but it was anyone's guess as to who they might have been. Aniryn? The governor? Perhaps it had been one of the wives who had drawn the husband's attention to Aniryn's shop. Perhaps it had been the Hershell boy who might have fibbed about Chaisyl's documents. It was impossible to say.
Nonetheless, it would leave Kaelhmor in the minds of men for a long time, even if they had no name by which to call him nor a face to ascribe to his existence.
Perhaps one day that would change.
Perhaps.
Visage ♦True Form♦
♦ ♦
Many faces, many forms, Kaelhmor is a being who is, by his nature, difficult to ascribe any singular appearance. Nonetheless, he does possess a favored form, which is depicted below.
♦Facade♦
♦ ♦
Unnamed and numberless are the countless guises of Kaelhmor.
Though many would have you believe otherwise, reality does not bow to the senses and it is from this essential truth that Deception is born. The Aspect of lies, be it through falsehoods or omission, Deception can confound the senses, obscure the truth, or replace facts with all-too-believable falsehoods. Wielding this power, the Lord of Lies–the Seer of Masked Light–is capable of conjuring illusions, misleading the thoughts of others through clever omission, and indeed constructing falsehoods so believable that they are difficult to detect.
Embodying this power, Kaelhmor is the Trickster God, the Master of Illusions, and the Lord of Lies. With this Aspect he will deceive the world and so lead it according to his aims.
Persona ♦Charismatic ♦ Clever ♦ Dishonest♦
♦♦♦
An enigmatic and thoughtful being of endless guile, Kaelhmor is not the sort of person that one would immediately identify as a liar or a scoundrel. Far from it, in fact, for he is at his face, a charming and silver-tongued deity, a being who chooses each and every word with effortless care. He is intelligent and has a gaze that stretches far beyond the present and into the moments that follow long after his path has crossed with yours.
He is slow to anger, easy to amuse, and often gentle even in his manipulations. He is not–as one might think–a compulsive liar and rather is quite pleasant to treat with. However, be warned, for Kaelhmor is still the Lord of Lies and while he is not compelled to falsehoods, he can lie more easily than mortals breathe, more readily than gods create or destroy, and to attempt to discern his true intent is a thing nearing impossibility. Further, while the Seer is slow to anger, his fury is no less terrible than any other god’s and thus one ought be wary of insulting him.
Myth
♦ ♦
Aniryn woke that morning with a fire beneath his feet, driving him from his bed with great vigor, yet it was not to shy from heat but rather to exploit the energy it provided. Moving through his morning routine, he dressed before departing his home. He greeted his neighbors as he closed his door, slinging a pack over his shoulder as he did so. The blue-eyed man pushed the damp mop of his black hair from his eyes as he surveilled the small settlement in the early morning. Many men and women were up despite the hour, getting about their morning chores and errands before the day's heat beat down upon their heads. Intent on using every minute well, Aniryn joined them, moving with purpose as he greeted each and every one of his fellow villagers.
He'd taken up residence in the town some months ago, and now, having nested for such a time, he'd deemed this the day that things would truly begin. So as he moved through the sparse crowd and greeted his many neighbors with friendly 'good mornings' and glad tidings of the new day, he likewise slipped in suggestions of business later on. Having sewn the seeds of commerce for many moons, he would finally begin to reap his rewards as he opened up shop in the village square and gently coaxed his fellow man beneath the awnings of his small open-air shop.
The first two men to approach did so with their wives beside them, the men pretending at disinterest while the women admired his wares. Necklaces and earrings, pretty baubles for adornment, but the most prized of his creations lay hidden and out of sight as he waited to strike. Eventually, the two couples decided on a necklace and a bracelet respectfully, but before they could entirely depart, he companionably snared one husband's shoulder and whispered to the man conspiratorially.
"You know, I do have something that might catch your discerning eye," Aniryn said with a small smile and a twinkle in his eye. The man narrowed his gaze as he replied.
"I have no interest in your trinkets, Aniryn."
Aniryn held his hands up defensively, placating. "Ah, no mere trinkets, I'd not bother you with anything like that."
The husband raised an eyebrow, interest piqued, and turned to follow the merchant as they returned to his stall, just the two of them. Carefully, Aniryn unveiled the chest behind his table, then slowly opened its lid, revealing a small arrangement of rings and what at first appeared to be bracelets. The man glanced Aniryn's way, scoffing, "I thought you said you wouldn't be wasting my time." Aniryn shook his head.
"Never, sir, I don't waste the time of my valued customers."
Picking up one of the rings, Aniryn turned it over for the man to see the masterful craftsmanship. The man narrowed his eyes, "It is well made, I must admit, but that's hardly anything special."
Aniryn chuckled, "Well, it must at least be well made to be something worthy of you sir. However, its value is not in its appearance but in its function. With this ring, nothing will be out of your reach, sir."
"Hah, surely you jest. There is no such magic as this."
Aniryn only smiled, "Tell you what, I'll ask only a pittance of what you paid for your wife's jewelry, but if it does work...spread the word." For a long several moments, the man watched Aniryn's expression as if looking for the scheme, but he found nothing. So, after another moment's hesitation, he paid for the ring and departed. Long after he was gone, Aniryn chuckled to himself and turned back to coaxing others to his shop.
---
For the husband--Telor's--part little of note happened on his way home. Though he did happen upon some dropped coinage that surely brightened their day. When Telor and his wife Lin arrived at their house, however, something was different. There was a small crowd gathered, staring at his home as if in awe. Confused--though flattered--Telor spoke with them for a time, finding that they'd been stricken by the renovations they had made. Yet, Telor could not recall any changes at all. When he'd managed to get his neighbors to disperse and enter the house, all was as they left it.
Days passed, and things were always subtly better. People treated him and his family with more grace. Sometimes giving him gifts for no reason. The feud between him and the Hershells family ended, and they feasted together without a single screaming match, let alone any blows being thrown. Even his wife seemed to nag him less.
Yet...Telor did not keep his promise, and eventually, he one day took the ring off to bathe. Soon it was as if the world had turned harsh upon him. He slipped and fell in the bath, hurting his knee; one of the Hershell boys started a fight with his young son, leaving bruises and several unsightly gashes. Some men and women of the village even left nasty letters at his doorstep. Yet...he was unable to find the ring as if it had disappeared entirely.
Desperate, Telor returned to Aniryn's shop, this time alone.
Aniryn smiled and greeted Telor the same as always, but Telor took him in his hands and shook the merchant, rambling on about how he was cursed, about how Aniryn must have come and stolen the ring from him. Aniryn shrugged and gave him a small smile as he admitted that it was true.
"I did take the ring back. After all, you didn't keep your end of the bargain." Telor gapped and raised a fist, but Aniryn put a hand gently on his shoulder. "There's no need for that; we're friends, aren't we? Tell you what, you pay for the ring full price, and it is yours. I'll bother you no more. However, as before, you must spread the word of my wares."
Telor hesitantly agreed, desperate to go back to the idyllic life that apparently the ring had allowed him. So, he paid his fee, donned the ring, and vowed to tell others of Aniryn's wonders. In the days that followed, his life improved marginally, bit by bit, but it never seemed to be the miraculous thing that he'd known before. No, he was far too paranoid for that. Still, Aniryn's shop became the bustling center of the town, his already stellar reputation coupled with Tellor's kind words bringing much of the village's population to his doorstep--so to speak.
Soon, everyone had some bauble or trinket from his shop, all at full price though some thought themselves saving money in the transaction. Aniryn was good like that. With time the village grew such that it no longer could be governed simply by rumors and the whims of the commonfolk. So it was that a man named Chaisyl was raised to power. Now the governor, Chaisyl was shrewd and always on top of the gossip and the village's needs. Best of all, though, he'd purportedly bought the foremost of Aniryn's unique pieces. His was a necklace that he hid beneath his garments, never removing it from his flesh.
Yet, there was something that the townspeople began to notice about Chaisyl. He was off somehow. Though he wasn't displeasing to look upon, he wasn't precisely charming either, nor was he particularly well-spoken. Yet, all who walked away from their encounters with him found themselves feeling reassured. Yet, the village's functioning slipped somewhat, and its growth slowed. Eventually, Aniryn's shop closed up, and he said his farewells. One night, eight years later, a mischievous teen found his way into the governor's office where he found numerous documents...forged or falsified. He found evidence of the man's lies. His subtle manipulations, his impossible assurances.
There was a riot, the man was strung up in the field at a tree, and the villagers moved along with their lives.
But they were all less joyful for having killed the governor, but none of them could figure precisely why. Eventually, people came to doubt Aniryn's leftover jewelry, his rings and bracelets, and necklaces too. With the passing of days, they were discarded, and though nothing changed, everything was different. Neighbors were less kind to one another, crops seemed less bountiful, days less warm, while nights were colder. The world was bleaker, perhaps.
Yet, none of them quite knew why.
They never would.
Perhaps one day, a story would be told of the place and how the Lord of Lies had walked among them, but it was anyone's guess as to who they might have been. Aniryn? The governor? Perhaps it had been one of the wives who had drawn the husband's attention to Aniryn's shop. Perhaps it had been the Hershell boy who might have fibbed about Chaisyl's documents. It was impossible to say.
Nonetheless, it would leave Kaelhmor in the minds of men for a long time, even if they had no name by which to call him nor a face to ascribe to his existence.
Perhaps one day that would change.
Perhaps.
Visage ♦True Form♦
♦ ♦
Many faces, many forms, Kaelhmor is a being who is, by his nature, difficult to ascribe any singular appearance. Nonetheless, he does possess a favored form, which is depicted below.
♦Facade♦
♦ ♦
Unnamed and numberless are the countless guises of Kaelhmor.
The Arcane mysteries of Power both Personal and Cosmic, flow through us—giving life and consciousness—and around us, imparting motion and action and change upon the world. Arcana is the force that changes, that transforms, empowers, creates, and in equal parts destroys—always paring away at the world to reveal truths deeper still. With dominion over—if not mastery of—this power, Mae-Alari threads themselves through the world, desiring to understand it and herself as well.
In this way, Arcana is the expression of these ideas and ideals. In the living, Arcana exists primarily in the form of the Soul, whereas within the world it exists as the driving force for change, manifesting as the numerous energies that flow in and through the cosmos. This allows Mae-Alari to draw upon, manipulate, and manifest the many energies of the world by harnessing the potential energy contained within them. This potential energy can then be transmuted into any other form of energy or even new varieties. However, as a caveat, Mae-Alari cannot directly create, destroy, nor manipulate matter—instead they must influence it through the lens of energy. Where another god might create stone from their very essence whole-cloth, Mae-Alari must take pre-existing substance and mould its form and nature with energy, coaxing it into a new state. Though it may seem strange, while matter may not be created whole-cloth, more of existing matter can be propagated.
Tl;dr: Mae-Alari’s prime domain gives them power over the energies of the world, above all others being Potential Energy, Quintessence, the Breath, and the Soul. However, as a caveat to this incredible power, matter is beyond them. Stone must be coaxed by heat and pressure to become steel. Water heated or cooled to become gas or ice, whereas another god might simply bring these spontaneously into being.
Aspect ♦Curious ♦ Enigmatic ♦ Wise♦
♦♦♦
Mae-Alari is, first and foremost a being seeking understanding of itself through interaction with all else. Through its interactions with other deities and their myriad creations--as well as the reflection of its own expression through such objects, places, and peoples--the Arcane Source is always on the search for further aspects of itself. In this way its curiosity is clear as it finds a fascination with all things, particularly those it does not understand. Yet, despite its obsession with the world's workings, Mae-Alari is unquestionably wise, capable of drawing unexpected knowledge and insight from almost everything it encounters. In this way they contain both the aspects of an ancient sage and the overflowing enthusiasm of child-like curiosity.
As Mae-Alari's purpose is ultimately to understand themselves in all their vast and incalculable complexity, it follows that they are prone to change and--furthermore--difficult to fully grasp even for others. This often makes their intentions opaque and the reasoning behind their actions sometimes inscrutable, leading others top an enigmatic impression of their character. Still, despite their seemingly malleable and indiscernibility, Mae-Alari can always be relied on for their perceptiveness and willingness to assist others. Still, not everyone is wont to risk seeking them out given that often the true reasons behind Alari's giving nature are--at best--difficult to ascertain.
Visage ♦True Form♦
♦ ♦
Nested within the beauteous vessel of the Goddess dwells a singularity most sublime, its churning patterns the sum total of all Arcana. It is a sigil, an evolving pattern of energy catalyzing itself into yet greater forms. It is the eye and the heart and the mind as one, bound and unbound, endless yet circumscript. It is the Arcane Source, the Unseen Wellspring and it devours and blooms in equal measure.
Upon her conception in the Great Void before the World was born, Mae-Alari took in a wholly different shape, one far more alien and strange.
A more worldly manifestation, pared down from her full divinity for the sake of the mortal mind.
Tali Kei Kyshi'a ⇋⬤⇌ Maei Ta' LhuriWeaver of Fates⇂↿↾⇃Womb of souls⇂↿↾⇃Forge of Creation⇂↿↾⇃Arbiter of Axiom
“From the Womb of Souls did you emerge and unto it I may return thee. So heed my words, ye mortals, and do not forget. I am the Mother and the Judge.” Theme I ♦ Theme II ♦ Theme III ♦ Theme IIII
Tall-ee kay kai-she-ah May-eye Tah lure-ee
Aspect ♦Quintessence♦
♦ ♦
Drawn from the living, possessed by the dead, and pervasive throughout the primal fabric of existence, quintessence is that which animates, allows potentialities, and narrows the gaze of fate. From this essential component of the cosmos, identities arise bearing the living unto their vessels. Irreducible and infinite, quintessence is a wellspring of unknowable power, continually differentiating and iterating upon itself to fill all life with an essence that persists. Through this power, borne of it and serving as its source, the Progenitor of Breath may become many things. Through their Aspect, the Progenitor unifies each Conscious Spark with a web of tangled threads, each a path they might walk, every strand someone they might become. As the Weaver, Tali-Maei can view the potential paths of all who live; they may alter these probabilities or sunder any threads they choose.
Yet, Tali-Maei is more than the Weaver; so too is she the Womb of Souls, from which every animating spark was born. Through this facet, the God of Quintessence may imbue life into the lifeless or youth into the old. With this power, so too can the nature of a being's essence be changed, granting any number of banes or boons. Thus, Tali Kei Kyshi'a--Maei Ta' Lhuri--is the source from which all souls were derived, whether one was aware of it or not. Yet...as the Arbiter of Axiom--the principles by which all must abide--so too may the ensouled become empty husks at the Arbiter's command.
Through understanding, one may glean Tali-Maei as the source of souls, and so too the Weaver of their fates. She is the Mother and her warmth; He is the Judge, the Scales, and the harsh Blade of judgment. After all, what one has created, so too can they destroy. What one has given, so too can they reclaim. Such is the way of the Progenitor.
Simplest among Tali-Maei’s capabilities is the capacity to impart souls into things that exist in physical reality. It should be noted that though the Progenitor’s Aspect has strong ties to Life and Fertility, she cannot expend power (AP) to create physical vessels of any kind, be they bodies of flesh and bone or golems of wood and stone. However, the Progenitor can impart life to the unliving by inserting quintessence into things that already exist in the world. Furthermore, Tali-Maei’s power over the precise nature and construction of souls allows her to rewrite and alter them in the interest of creating various outcomes. A soul could be created in such a way that it gave its holder specific capabilities outside those natural to their species.
A human without innate magic or knowledge might be given a soul that allows them to understand the calls of animals or the whispers of the trees. Perhaps an elf might be born with a soul gifting them with great talent for the arts or mathematics; such things as these are possible when graced by the gifts of Tali-Maei. Notable, however, is the fact that the Weaver of Fates cannot create souls that give innate physical properties to a given race without power pulled from beyond their Aspect (MP).
However, while Tali-Maei is often a benevolent influence within the world, so too can their power be harnessed to cause great harm or misfortune. While direct physical alterations cannot be enacted via her Prime Aspect, the Progenitor is capable of creating curse-like effects by altering the nature of a given soul (or souls). A woman of great intellect might be cursed with profound laziness such that they may never act upon their ideas; a hateful man might be blighted with terrible luck, the possibilities of their fate narrowed to those of unending misfortune.
Beyond this, as the Weaver of Fates, Tali may alter the potentialities assigned to any given soul(s), allowing the Weaver to sculpt their lives to their satisfaction. Possibilities might be pruned such that a man who was once destined for poverty might instead turn his life around and become a great inventor. Perhaps a tyrannical monarch whose rule was fated to be long might be cut tragically short. Of course, as the Arbiter of Axioms and the Womb of Souls from which all Quintessence is borne unto the world, Tali-Maei can at any time wrest the soul from any vessel it inhabits. While this will not innately kill the body, without a soul, the vessel will be rendered empty of intellect and agency and thus unable to care for itself leading to its inevitable demise.
Persona ♦Compassionate ♦ Enigmatic ♦ Merciless ♦
♦♦♦
Though a great many traits aptly describe the Progenitor of Breath, none may entirely encapsulate the deity’s mystique. While Tali-maei is indeed a profoundly maternal figure, holding a nigh endless capacity for compassion and love for all her many children, so too is the god capable of incredible cruelty. Yet, it cannot be said that the Weaver of Fates is truly unkind or cruel, for any punishment meted out by the Arbiter is innately just, as their rulings are based upon the precepts of Fate itself. Thus, though it can be said that they are merciless, it can never be said that she is inequitable.
Beyond these defining features of the Progenitor’s persona, little can be said, as their capricious and willful nature defies succinct or stable description.
Myth ♦TITLE IF YOU WANT♦
♦ ♦
"Tali
"Mei
"Kei
"Ta'."
A bright chant floated upon the air of that bright moonlit night, its source a woman perched atop a mountain's peak, her hair and clothes in disarray. Yet, upon her face was an expression of purest joy and jubilation. Slowly her belly had grown as she'd climbed the icy peak, its fell winds clawing at her skin and clothes, threatening to pull her into the great beyond. Nonetheless, she had persisted, and so now she remained, in meditation upon the peak, as she had been for nigh on a year. Blessed by the Great Tree's sap she found that she could subsist on the sparse plants and animals that existed at those once frightening heights.
Now, atop that cold mountain, with warmth in her heart and belly, Tamira knew that it would soon be time. As heavy with child as she had become, it was only a matter of hours or days before her child was to be born into the world. It would be a harsh place to be born, Tamira knew, and yet a contented smile lay upon her lips and a knowing look within her azure eyes. Though she already held a deep maternal love for her baby, she knew that the reality was that her child might not survive in such a place.
Yet she had come, for it was to this place that she had been drawn. Now, with peace settled within her heart and the open sky stretching in every direction above her, she found that even if she'd been wrong to come that she did not regret it. In a world such as theirs, if her child could survive atop this peak for several days as she made her way to ground, then they would not survive the trials of their life. So it was that in the glowing night, with swollen belly and swelling feet, Tamira's water broke.
Then the trial began. Waves of twisting pain--contractions--then heaving pushes. The wetness of sweat and fluids, harsh breathing, calls into the night for anyone. Her mother, her father, her lover, her friends, but she was alone and between waves of shattering, constricting pain, she held the power. Shuddering and cold, yet at once on fire as her body fought for release, Tamira lost herself in the hours of long and arduous labor. As time wore on and the sun began to finally crest upon the horizon, something pushed beyond her body, and she found she had lost all sense of herself. There was no individual, only a body in spasmodic pain, striving for rest, pushing new life into the air's embrace.
There was nothing except breath, and pain; exhaustion, fear, loneliness, and finally...release. Spent, Tamira gathered what she could of herself, finding her identity, and then her name. Finding where she ended and another began, all without moving. Though her mind struggled to focus, she would not have her fight end for naught. So with power drawn from the air itself, she lifted her child with the intentions of her mind and drew the warm body into her arms to shield it from the wind.
Yet....
There was no breath. As she looked down upon her child a quiet horror struck her. A terrible realization. Tears spilled down upon her cheeks without understanding why.
The wind shuddered.
Then prismatic lightning struck down from on high and as the sky shattered, so too did that horrifying moment.
Warmth spread from the small body in her arms. Tamira's eyes widened and the tears too grew warm as a gentle loving smile pressed itself upon her lips. A small cough, then another...then a deep breath and a piercing cry.
"Taei'ka. My little miracle," she cooed, pulling the baby close to her bosom to share her warmth with her newborn child.
Then another spoke and their voice was motherly warmth and fatherly protection. It was a song that sung of fates, bittersweet, but loving. Stern, yet somehow gentle. "A wonderful name, Tamira. A beautiful child. A glorious beginning."
Tamira was too tired and relieved to be shocked or afraid. Yet, as she turned and beheld the form that knelt beside her her eyes did widen and she found herself clutching her son to her chest. Yet, even as worry for their safety crossed her mind, something reassured her. It was as if they could not be safer than they were in that moment, in the presence of the strange being who had manifested before them.
The figure smiled, their form a silhouette sculpted of darkness and light, threads of warmth and cold brutal fated ends and beginnings both. "I have many names, but you may call me Mother," the goddess said, as if replying to an unasked question. Tamira remembered her own mother, but did not feel any shame when she spoke the word in reference to this being.
"Mother, why are you here?"
The goddess' smile became warmer and a hand wrought of swirling stardust and churning colorless quintessence reached out and stroked Tamira's cheek. "To help you of course, my child." Tamira's tired body welled with gratitude, but still she found herself confused.
"Why?"
The Goddess laughed lightly and pushed up from the ground, her silhouette vaguely humanoid, yet undeniably strange as if she were in every moment shedding essence and being remade at once.
"Silly child. I am the Womb, the Weaver, and the Forge. I am the Breath, the Essence, the Soul. I came because this is what I am. This is how things are to be."
Tamira's frown only deepened, "But Mother...how am I to repay you? This debt it is too great. I--" the Goddess shook her head and Tamira fell silent, wordless and confused.
"Live and give thanks. That is all I ask."
Tamira nodded, her expression suddenly grave, as if she understood.
How could she though? How could she even fathom a divine intellect?
Turning away, a veil of threads and power trailed from every inch of her form like the train of a dress, like long sleeves dragging through the air. Like fates woven into garments adorning an arbiter of creation. The being paused in its departure though, stopping for a moment, silken threads drifting lazily in the wind. Thoughtfully, she spoke, but no more was her voice feminine and warm. No, his voice was searing ice, the frost that kills--cold, implacable, and impossible to deny.
"Ah, but do not forget little one. Your child's fate is not your own."
Tamira swallowed hard and nodded. The god half turned, regarding the woman, then nodded as well.
"Do not forget, Tamira."
Turning away, he left, stepping off the cliff's edge before gliding away upon the air before dissipating into the heavens.
Visage ♦True Form♦
♦ ♦
Too vast to behold, too unfathomable to bear, the true visage of the Womb of Souls–the Forge of Creation–expands throughout existence, cradling all that is in a vast cosmic womb. Eclipsing all else should it ever fully manifest, this truest of forms is only ever glimpsed in flashes and fragments. Though Tali-maei is indeed innately a being of creation, should their form ever slip entirely into this world, it surely would destroy it.
♦Facade♦
♦ ♦
Possessed of many forms, the Progenitor of Breath can take a genuinely endless quantity of guises. Nonetheless, each and every one bears an aspect of her nature, never fully solid, never properly mundane. So it is that, unlike many gods, the Arbiter cannot hide her nature even from men and mer.
Tali Kei Kyshi ⇋⬤⇌ Maei Ta' LhurWeaver of Fates⇂↿↾⇃Womb of souls⇂↿↾⇃Forge of Creation⇂↿↾⇃Arbiter of Axiom
“From the Womb of Souls did you emerge and unto it I may return thee. So heed my words, ye mortals, and do not forget. I am the Mother and the Judge.” Theme I ♦ Theme II ♦ Theme III ♦ Theme IIII
Tall-ee kay kai-she-ah May-eye Tah lure-ee
Aspect ♦Quintessence♦
♦ ♦
Drawn from the living, possessed by the dead, and pervasive throughout the primal fabric of existence, quintessence is that which animates, allows potentialities, and narrows the gaze of fate. From this essential component of the cosmos, identities arise bearing the living unto their vessels. Irreducible and infinite, quintessence is a wellspring of unknowable power, continually differentiating and iterating upon itself to fill all life with an essence that persists. Through this power, borne of it and serving as its source, the Progenitor of Breath may become many things. Through their Aspect, the Progenitor unifies each Conscious Spark with a web of tangled threads, each a path they might walk, every strand someone they might become. As the Weaver, Tali-Maei can view the potential paths of all who live; they may alter these probabilities or sunder any threads they choose.
Yet, Tali-Maei is more than the Weaver; so too is she the Womb of Souls, from which every animating spark was born. Through this facet, the God of Quintessence may imbue life into the lifeless or youth into the old. With this power, so too can the nature of a being's essence be changed, granting any number of banes or boons. Thus, Tali Kei Kyshi'a--Maei Ta' Lhuri--is the source from which all souls were derived, whether one was aware of it or not. Yet...as the Arbiter of Axiom--the principles by which all must abide--so too may the ensouled become empty husks at the Arbiter's command.
Through understanding, one may glean Tali-Maei as the source of souls, and so too the Weaver of their fates. She is the Mother and her warmth; He is the Judge, the Scales, and the harsh Blade of judgment. After all, what one has created, so too can they destroy. What one has given, so too can they reclaim. Such is the way of the Progenitor.
Persona ♦Compassionate ♦ Enigmatic ♦ Merciless ♦
♦♦♦
Though a great many traits aptly describe the Progenitor of Breath, none may entirely encapsulate the deity’s mystique. While Tali-maei is indeed a profoundly maternal figure, holding a nigh endless capacity for compassion and love for all her many children, so too is the god capable of incredible cruelty. Yet, it cannot be said that the Weaver of Fates is truly unkind or cruel, for any punishment meted out by the Arbiter is innately just, as their rulings are based upon the precepts of Fate itself. Thus, though it can be said that they are merciless, it can never be said that she is inequitable.
Beyond these defining features of the Progenitor’s persona, little can be said, as their capricious and willful nature defies succinct or stable description.
Myth ♦TITLE IF YOU WANT♦
♦ ♦
"Tali
"Mei
"Kei
"Ta'."
A bright chant floated upon the air of that bright moonlit night, its source a woman perched atop a mountain's peak, her hair and clothes in disarray. Yet, upon her face was an expression of purest joy and jubilation. Slowly her belly had grown as she'd climbed the icy peak, its fell winds clawing at her skin and clothes, threatening to pull her into the great beyond. Nonetheless, she had persisted, and so now she remained, in meditation upon the peak, as she had been for nigh on a year. Blessed by the Great Tree's sap she found that she could subsist on the sparse plants and animals that existed at those once frightening heights.
Now, atop that cold mountain, with warmth in her heart and belly, Tamira knew that it would soon be time. As heavy with child as she had become, it was only a matter of hours or days before her child was to be born into the world. It would be a harsh place to be born, Tamira knew, and yet a contented smile lay upon her lips and a knowing look within her azure eyes. Though she already held a deep maternal love for her baby, she knew that the reality was that her child might not survive in such a place.
Yet she had come, for it was to this place that she had been drawn. Now, with peace settled within her heart and the open sky stretching in every direction above her, she found that even if she'd been wrong to come that she did not regret it. In a world such as theirs, if her child could survive atop this peak for several days as she made her way to ground, then they would not survive the trials of their life. So it was that in the glowing night, with swollen belly and swelling feet, Tamira's water broke.
Then the trial began. Waves of twisting pain--contractions--then heaving pushes. The wetness of sweat and fluids, harsh breathing, calls into the night for anyone. Her mother, her father, her lover, her friends, but she was alone and between waves of shattering, constricting pain, she held the power. Shuddering and cold, yet at once on fire as her body fought for release, Tamira lost herself in the hours of long and arduous labor. As time wore on and the sun began to finally crest upon the horizon, something pushed beyond her body, and she found she had lost all sense of herself. There was no individual, only a body in spasmodic pain, striving for rest, pushing new life into the air's embrace.
There was nothing except breath, and pain; exhaustion, fear, loneliness, and finally...release. Spent, Tamira gathered what she could of herself, finding her identity, and then her name. Finding where she ended and another began, all without moving. Though her mind struggled to focus, she would not have her fight end for naught. So with power drawn from the air itself, she lifted her child with the intentions of her mind and drew the warm body into her arms to shield it from the wind.
Yet....
There was no breath. As she looked down upon her child a quiet horror struck her. A terrible realization. Tears spilled down upon her cheeks without understanding why.
The wind shuddered.
Then prismatic lightning struck down from on high and as the sky shattered, so too did that horrifying moment.
Warmth spread from the small body in her arms. Tamira's eyes widened and the tears too grew warm as a gentle loving smile pressed itself upon her lips. A small cough, then another...then a deep breath and a piercing cry.
"Taei'ka. My little miracle," she cooed, pulling the baby close to her bosom to share her warmth with her newborn child.
Then another spoke and their voice was motherly warmth and fatherly protection. It was a song that sung of fates, bittersweet, but loving. Stern, yet somehow gentle. "A wonderful name, Tamira. A beautiful child. A glorious beginning."
Tamira was too tired and relieved to be shocked or afraid. Yet, as she turned and beheld the form that knelt beside her her eyes did widen and she found herself clutching her son to her chest. Yet, even as worry for their safety crossed her mind, something reassured her. It was as if they could not be safer than they were in that moment, in the presence of the strange being who had manifested before them.
The figure smiled, their form a silhouette sculpted of darkness and light, threads of warmth and cold brutal fated ends and beginnings both. "I have many names, but you may call me Mother," the goddess said, as if replying to an unasked question. Tamira remembered her own mother, but did not feel any shame when she spoke the word in reference to this being.
"Mother, why are you here?"
The goddess' smile became warmer and a hand wrought of swirling stardust and churning colorless quintessence reached out and stroked Tamira's cheek. "To help you of course, my child." Tamira's tired body welled with gratitude, but still she found herself confused.
"Why?"
The Goddess laughed lightly and pushed up from the ground, her silhouette vaguely humanoid, yet undeniably strange as if she were in every moment shedding essence and being remade at once.
"Silly child. I am the Womb, the Weaver, and the Forge. I am the Breath, the Essence, the Soul. I came because this is what I am. This is how things are to be."
Tamira's frown only deepened, "But Mother...how am I to repay you? This debt it is too great. I--" the Goddess shook her head and Tamira fell silent, wordless and confused.
"Live and give thanks. That is all I ask."
Tamira nodded, her expression suddenly grave, as if she understood.
How could she though? How could she even fathom a divine intellect?
Turning away, a veil of threads and power trailed from every inch of her form like the train of a dress, like long sleeves dragging through the air. Like fates woven into garments adorning an arbiter of creation. The being paused in its departure though, stopping for a moment, silken threads drifting lazily in the wind. Thoughtfully, she spoke, but no more was her voice feminine and warm. No, his voice was searing ice, the frost that kills--cold, implacable, and impossible to deny.
"Ah, but do not forget little one. Your child's fate is not your own."
Tamira swallowed hard and nodded. The god half turned, regarding the woman, then nodded as well.
"Do not forget, Tamira."
Turning away, he left, stepping off the cliff's edge before gliding away upon the air before dissipating into the heavens.
Visage ♦True Form♦
♦ ♦
Too vast to behold, too unfathomable to bear, the true visage of the Womb of Souls–the Forge of Creation–expands throughout existence, cradling all that is in a vast cosmic womb. Eclipsing all else should it ever fully manifest, this truest of forms is only ever glimpsed in flashes and fragments. Though Tali-maei is indeed innately a being of creation, should their form ever slip entirely into this world, it surely would destroy it.
♦Facade♦
♦ ♦
Possessed of many forms, the Progenitor of Breath can take a genuinely endless quantity of guises. Nonetheless, each and every one bears an aspect of her nature, never fully solid, never properly mundane. So it is that, unlike many gods, the Arbiter cannot hide her nature even from men and mer.
Member
Fallenreaper
Snowdrops
Taka
Dark Jack
Crimson Flame
Danyel
Kalas
HeMandaddy
Lord Zee
A necklace of excellent craftsmanship with a pendant composed of mirror-like crystal capable of siphoning, trapping, and releasing light at the user’s behest. Can emit a flash of light of variable brightness relative to how much light is held within it, as well as make a space totally bereft of light or illuminate a space to a variable degree depending on the light held within. Now imbued with power greater still, the Lesser Lens can generate its own light for its center is composed of light in liquid form, swirling like a hurricane around the jet black marble that is its ‘eye’. The Lens may now focus and manipulate light within the vicinity of the wearer in addition to creating incredibly bright ‘flashes’ or even persistently blinding screens of illumination. So too can the pendant continuously siphon all illumination from a locale, rendering it darker than any other place ‘cept perhaps the birthplace of shadows themselves, wherever that might be.
A Coin crafted by the Mistress of Trade and another unknown to the Lord of Light and Lies--Oa’qeisskesi--this ornate artifact of golden hue is possessed of a number of divinely inspired traits. Before the Lord of Light's influence it could replicate itself unending, but now the Coin can detect deception, assist in the keeping of secrets, and even lead the wielder to the truth of things in time. Furthermore, the Coin serves as the linchpin for the binding oath between Kaelhmor and Ashevelen. Should the coin rebinding be broken, so too would the coin's creations gain an air most foreboding and an indelible mark upon it surface. The Coin itself would be sundered by this process, rendering it to useless scraps.
Kaelhmor’s first avatar, Lhumina is the Lady of Bright Skies and Shadows Darker Still. She is his agent, his confidante, a reflection of his nature wrapped in the guise of a dark-skinned beauty with glowing golden eyes and a veil of purest Illumination. She is the seed from which Deception grows and the source from which enlightenment can be gleaned.
