Pantheon: Whims of the Gods » Places

         (this may be a long-overdue and desperate attempt to resurrect this dead RP, but I'll try my best.)
Elvernia opened her eyes. The sky before her reached endlessly until even the faintest lights were still visible. She always loved the Etherial sky, the way it never stayed the way it was a moment before. She watched as hints of red came creeping around its edges, restlessly making their way to the center. Elvernia was unaware of the time that was passing, and couldn't care less. With tones of purple, the red began to make its way to the center of the sky, enveloping her senses with a deep sense of awakening and renewal. The twinkling stars began to give off a faint orange light. Soon, she could see spots of gold and yellow gently lining the horizon. It was sunrise. As the lights began to fade, a silence fell, almost as if the sky were hushed, waiting. The sun was soon to come. As if in an instant, a bright blue light, shot across the sky, wisping its way around the celestia. Soon, the whole sky was enveloped in a shade of brilliant blue, and as if on command, the sun rose in full splendor over the horizon. Golden beams reached across the sky, delicately stroking the newly formed clouds. The sun was hardly halfway risen; yet its majesty was incomparable to anything else in the sky. Elvernia sighed. It was beautiful. How she wished she could reach up and touch that majestic orb of light and feel the warmth and love it possessed. She closed her eyes again, letting the rays of morning sun dance across her face. After standing in the same position for quite some time, she opened her eyes and gazed around the scenery. "Good morning, Etheria. I'm glad you are awake."

         He looks at the murals and artwork along the way, interested particularly in ones regarding the origin of the giants.

"You must be proud." Borne says to the giants. "Such history n' all, and always in the presence of the hands that crafted you."

While he was being genuine, there was an ulterior motive for his behavior and one unrelated to the adamant, though he still intended to seize it, and he did not want his comrades to be put in danger. Though somewhat deranged from his isolation, he is at the very least not given to being a backstabber.

"I wonder what it was like," he comments quietly. "Creatin' life."

         Kurn, God of Enlightenment

The Odd God paced around the upper floor and watched the large mirror currently showing the quest. He was calm as he moved from one end of the balcony to the other but there was obviously something troubling him. He could feel his future self becoming stressed over something and instinctively looked down at the mortals viewing the quest with the gods. One of the men below caught Kurn's eye, and realized he was about to smash the mirror by running into it. Kurn sighed and knew he should have never let the mortals have alcohol in his temple.

With a flash Kurn appeared in front of the drunken man and made a display of him. Kurn's form became a bright golden man with angel's wings made of light but was shrouded by black ash clouds. Kurn engulfed the man in his light and vanished from existence. He dropped the man in Azal where he would fit in just fine with the other alcoholics and then reappeared in his temple. His form was now the short white haired youth he was at Lycaon's meeting as he watched the mortals below him become confused as to what just happened.

Without warning Kurn's loud voice echoed from every corner of the hall down at the mortal group. "Respect is to be had while you all are here. Remember this is my gift to you, treat it as one." With that Kurn turned back to the other gods and smiled. "Sorry about that, resume your past activities."

         Borne hears the "plan" and rubs his hand across his forehead. To him it just sounded like: Break in, kill stuff and get the adamant. Even to him this sounded reckless.

"Ulm is a craftsman on top of being incredibly strong," He states flatly while scratching his shoulder. "Added, he's likely guarded by constructs of some kind."

He turns back and looks at his group, looking for any response from each of them, even for anything non-verbal. He then turns to the warg he is riding upon and grins.

"My first order: you will serve as my equal," He seems to be talking to the warg now. "You're free to make any suggestions or comments, things like that... or in your case gesture or act on them..."

He looks back to the others again.

"Guess we'll think of something on the way there, and deal with whatever gets in our way until then."

         In the weeks Borne had spent much of his time to himself, and surprisingly kept relatively sober. When he wasn't trying to keep his skills sharp he was carving a piece of wood with his nail, talking to his ferret, and looking into a jar of black liquid. What interactions he did with the others were brief and at times awkward, but he tried to be more courteous than he was before. With the platypus he kept mentioning that Enyo is a talking animal too and that it was nice for her to no longer be the only one, likely to even Mercutio's confusion. It grew clear that he had very little interactions with other people, having hinted he essentially been raised by Hazarmaveth after his mother's death, some of it showed more but he remained relatively crude, sleeping wherever he felt tired not too unlike an animal.

At the time of the gathering he had taken his cloak and worn it specifically over his missing arm. It was clear from the weight that it was converted in order to hold his various instruments including knives and self-made devices, knowing well he'd need quite a few.

He squinted quite a bit in front of Lycaon, all the bright light was a bit much for him, in between each flash trying to make some he had tried to pose a question, then soon found himself atop a warg and not far from the Ulmish mountain border.

"Well," Borne groaned. "At least we are done zapping about... I think."

Enyo squirms in the pack on his back. As usual he acts as if this means something more than being restless.

"Huh? What? Yeah, did we happen to have a... plan?"

         Ulm was growing tired of this display. The lava-bath had to wait, the pretenders were surely up to something, they coveted the adamant for whatever reason. He hated the fact that Klethi got him to return, soon she'll claim that she got the mighty titan to turn back and run back home paranoid. Phah! He had all right to be angry and paranoid when a group of ascendant whores wanted his head on a platter for being the only titan left since the other titans were-. . . . were-. . .
He couldn't really remember where the others went, this was really starting to bug him. Doesn't matter, the pretenders were up to something again. It was time to put his designs into fruition.

He made a sharp turn and began striding back towards Heimstaed. To Klethi he said with a booming and angry voice:

"I will not take any further lip from an insolent brat! I have nothing to apologize to a race of failures, much less to you, a spineless bug who has to resort to a cheap gimmick to attain power! You will cease your threats and ridicule, for you do not understand the consequences you face! Now begone! I must return to the Underforges, for i must complete designs that rival the immaterium!"

He cared not if Klethi followed him, he was going to ignore her completely from now on. He was going to return to the Underforge and mold the perfect life form, a fusion of flesh and metal. He knew that it would have use in events to come, if the pretenders were truly trying to steal the adamant. He did not understand what properties it had that were worth coveting . . .

         Somewhere in the eastern section of the forest the halfbreed Winston Borne walks out and away, alone along an old path headed nowhere in particular, just... anywhere. On his shoulder his ferrety companion eats away at a dried piece of meat.

This aimless venture, however, is rudely interrupted. Out in the distance there appears to be an old man in a black robe being accusted by a group of large wild dogs. Winston looks out at it, squints his eyes and tries to move on.

"Strong devour the weak, Enyo, dog-eat-dog and all that," he says, Enyo unresponsively continues eating. "How the world works."

He continues walking, starting to pass by the scene, the man yells for help. Borne grunts and Enyo glances in the man's direction before returning to the food.

"And besides, in this world there ain't no heroes, just fools who stick their neck out only to lose their heads." He says, trying to pick up his pace some, he glances over at Enyo. "Cut it out, don't look at me like that. Ain't my fault, just how it is, y'know."

He stops in his tracks and looks back then rubs his chin.

"Smart girl, live people can pay better than lootin' their corpses," he says, as if responding to Enyo. "Ah, what the hell."

He turns and runs straight in the old man's direction, who is now backed against a tree. The wild dogs notice him, but only after he manages to punt the nearest one, the old man winces at this action. The wild dogs turn and begin to head in the opposite direction only for Borne to grab one by the tail.

"Young man, thank you but that won't be..." The old man says.

"Don't thank me yet, gotta make sure the pack don't regroup later." Winston says pinning the dog underfoot and drawing a knife. "Suspect this is the alpha."

"Borne..." The old man responds, his voice changing. "Must you always be so... excessive?"

The dogs disappear in a black smoke and the old man's form changes to that of Hazarmaveth.

"What..." He looks bewildered and turns around immediately pointing his knife to the god of death who simply stares at him. "What the hell is thi- you... did I..?"

He drops his knife and backs away looking himself over then looks at Enyo with a sigh of relief. Hazarmaveth pulls out a black letter from his "robes" and hands it to Borne. He looks it over before breaking the seal and pulling out the letter. He reads it for a while then suddenly crumples it and tosses it to the ground.

"I ain't playin' no god's games, I ain't no gussied up puppet... plaything!" He yells in a rage at the god, he pecks at his own head. "Don't you even... remember what you said to me the third time? How you hated how mortals were used? You said a god's ordeal was..."

"Was their own and should not burden others. Yes, I remember." Hazarmaveth responds, cutting off Borne. "But they have gone ahead with this plan, and Ulm would only grow more irate with a council of gods pestering them."

"As would I if I had to deal with a bunch of pretentious, self-righteous, egotistical..." Borne fumes, a clear disdain in his voice.

"They are not... eh... but anyways, you are like a son to me, a transient I've taken in and taught, even if it was under inopportune and... unfortunate circumstances." Hazarmaveth interrupts. "I know you, you don't wish suffering on others, the type you've endured and been enduring for all this time. This is your chance to be something, to prove you are more than a halfbreed. That you can make a difference. You will do the right thing, by no other whim but your own."

Borne simply stares at Hazarmaveth grogily during his spiele then proceeds to slowly clap at the air, a gesture that would make more sense had he still had his right arm. He then picks up the letter, stuffs it in his pack and turns around and proceeds on without a word. Then pauses for a moment.

"Do you still remember your promise?" Borne says.

"Yes." Hazarmaveth responds. "But should you really hinge your entire...?"

"Good." Borne responds interrupting the god beginning to head off again.

"I could make your travel easier." Hazarmaveth says. "It is the least I could offer for your troubles."

"No." Borne says. "Think I'll find a place to drink off this sudden ache in my skull. I guess... I'll see you in a week or whatever... or sooner if I die of alcahol poisoning."

They part ways, Hazarmaveth returning to Shalom, certain that his chosen will be ready when the time comes.

"That's right." Borne walks on pulling something from his pocket, a small bottle of black fluid. "By my whim."