Snippet #1702681

Discontent had spread through Obsidia. The poisoning of Chath's miracle brought doubt and despair to his people. How could this happen!? Things were looking rather bad, but Chath was not fazed. There was no despair in his fiery heart upon hearing his missionary's pleas to help as Bellegar had them mutilated and yet another death was brought to his people because of the arrogance... sheer hubris this time. Bellegar dared to assume he knew Chath's intentions, and sought to wage war on the God of Fire.

So be it.

If the God of Earth wanted war, he would get war, and he would thus understand his mistake. Chath had acted out of self-preservation, as he had from the start. In turn, his people were attacked, poisoned, and his missionaries were punished for carrying out their duty. Bellegar had gone way too far on this one. Morganna's response was more understandable, but she still brought his people death, and for that, she could not be forgiven. He would reclaim their right to live, and would receive a warning. If she left well enough alone, he would try to respect her domain more, but bringing his people water had to be done.

First thing was first, his people had been too lax, too unprepared, for too long. They turned their prayers to their God, begging for a release from the horrors of this poison. "Please! Do something!" they begged time and time again. In response, he flies up to the top of Mt. Hubris (ironically named, no?) to speak to all of them. "Hear me, people of Obsidia! The God of Water, Morganna, grows restless that we take her water into our lands without permission. She sends you death, because I gave you life. This will be corrected. Boil your water, children... and collect the condensation. Soon enough, this problem will be rectified in full, but for now, realize that you are more capable than you first thought. You need not rely on your god to do everything for you. Use your minds! They are incredible tools, and some day, you will be known for them. In the meantime, the God of Earth, Bellegar, marches on Obsidia. I regret to inform you that we can live in peace no more."

Chath proceeds to tell his people how his missionaries trekked northward, and Bellegar stopped them cold. They knew of the mission north, as well as it's purpose. Anger fills Obsidia at this injustice, and it was that anger that Chath uses to focus his people, and hone them for the purpose of surviving.

"Obsidia is too large, and food grows thin. One-third of you will trek south, to a small village on the sea. Teach them to boil their water as well, and learn how to fish from them. Another third will trek north, and rally on the river in preparation. We are taking back the right to live. Those that remain will use the room to repopulate. In the meantime, there is much work to do. This mountain I perch on is sure to have metals within it. I will teach you to identify them, and thus mine them for smelting. We prepare for war, my children, and that is one thing you will be perfect at. My Templars will temper your rage into a will of steel, and your very bodies into a perfect weapon. Every man, woman, and child will learn how to protect their families. There are no helpless in Obsidia. To attack it's people will be to commit suicide. The Templars will teach discipline, and it will be with discipline and patience that you fight, and that you live by." There was no need to convince his people to follow that path in life. None of them wanted to be victims, and all of them wanted a chance to avenge their loved ones. Chath made sure they knew they were no mere tools. As harsh as he could be, he did care for them, though the other gods seemed to spite them for it.

"Those less inclined to fight will think. You will be known as Prophets, and are responsible for observing your environment, and using it to your advantage. You are responsible for investigating medicine, science, and reinforcing your people's faith."

Thus, Chath began to prepare for war. Smelting was taught to his people, as well as mining and forging. Their fires burned hotter, making for harder, more resilient blades. The smiths were taught how to fold the metal and create exotic, but highly refined tools of war. Scimitars and katanas were the two favorites. The mines were heavily reinforced, Chath wanting to avoid cave-ins. Schools were built to encourage learning, and a temple was built to give the people a common place to pray. They began to turn from an uncivilized mob into a well-disciplined, focused society. The warriors were very monk-like, mastering hand to hand combat and coming up with new ways to hurt their enemies. Spars became the norm instead of fights to the death, though a deathmatch could not be refused. Chath discouraged them unless a wrong had been done. His Archons were still there to protect, so it would be difficult, and against Chath's will to commit a crime anyway. Two branches were created, the fighters, and the faithful, and each were equal. Both had leaders, both ordained by Chath himself to ensure they were always capable, and never corrupt. Red tattoos became common, in reverence of the Templars, though they were different in design from the Templars themselves. It made the men look more intimidating, and the women more exotic and beautiful than they were already.

Lacking much wood, his people were going to have to learn more about metal and stone construction. That was now a focus, as reinforcing their home was important. A basic stone wall had begun to form around Obsidia. At Chath's command, a small group went out to build a shrine in the middle of the desert. It became part of a pilgrimage to go find it, surviving off of the desert and what little it had to offer. His people would become experts at that. Surviving in the desert meant knowing one's environment, and recent events had spurred on a quest for knowledge. Poisons could not be allowed to hold his people back, and thus research into holistic medicine was started. There were those that emerged that would be more talented at healing than others, but their means were mundane, not divine. Perhaps divine aid would come with time, and need. Farming somehow came to be in the desert. Whether it be from mushrooms, like up north, or desert plants, or even farming what the scythe could support, the people would survive.

For now, Chath had much to do. He went south, to ensure that a shrine was built in the fishing village of Katar, and that they heard his words as well. The fishing village would grow, as would the food available. To the north, there was more work to be done. Chath flies high overhead, wings blazing a trail in the sky as he approaches the villages clustered around. He stops at each of them, commanding them to meet on the river, and then spreading his words among them as well. To the north, the watterons still poisoned his people. He would prefer to make things right with his sister, and avoid a conflict with her as well, but he could not allow his people to be poisoned. She'd put him in a hard place, but he was going to attempt talking to her first.

When the people were gathered south of where the watterons were, he brought those that wished to witness this meeting of sorts. By the river, he calls to Morganna, knowing that she would hear him, and requests that she appear for all to see. If she did, his people would bow respectfully, but like their god, they were a proud lot, and the show of respect would persist until they were told to rise, or Chath began communicating with Morganna. Either way, appearance or not, Chath's words would be as follows: "Sister, I have indeed made an error in not asking for your water, but I hope you understand that I could not wait. While I could not agree to your offer, I harbor no hatred for you. I wished to show my people self-sufficiency, and feel I have succeeded in that. Your anger is clear, though, and I apologize for the disrespect shown. If you'll forgive me, I will be more mindful in the future. That said, my people still need this water. I don't wish for war, despite Bellegar's accusations, and least of all with you. There is much our people can learn from one another yet. I beseech you to withdraw your poisoners and allow me to control this single river in the interests of keeping my people alive and well. I will do what is necessary to complete this goal, and with respect... it will be done with or without your cooperation. My people are angry for the deaths caused, and I cannot allow them to suffer. I wish for them to know your kindness, not wrath. Thus, if you agree to my request, I will wish to further communicate with you, to see what we may do to make up for my disrespect."

Once he had his answer, Chath would take the actions that he must. The local villages would build an outpost, with the intention of making it an eventual fort, and center for trade if Morganna was feeling kind. Chath's people had much to give, and needed much in return. A fort and trading post would keep both people safe. If she wasn't feeling kind, then it would only keep Chath's people safe. Either way, Chath would turn his attention to his brother. This war was already over, Bellegar simply wasn't aware of it yet. From the sandy dunes, Chath uses his godly powers to create a race made in his own image. A draconic race, scaled and fierce... not picky about what they eat. They were created with the purpose of making the desert dangerous, but there were rules in place to control them. They were not to attack the desert people, easily identified by red tattoos. They were given a hatred of water, and a love for heat... as well as a healthy respect and fear of fire. They were sentient, yes, and might even have a spoken language and the capacity to worship, but they were made dim-witted to avoid negotiations, and prevent conversion. Cannibalistic in nature, they ate whatever they killed, and weren't picky about scavenging things long dead. The diseases in their mouths were great in number, and unbelievably deadly. Some were contagious, others were not. Also instilled was the hatred for large beings. They were scary, and like any dim-witted barbarian, things that scared a lizard man were attacked by a lizard man. The main feature of this new race, however, was the speed at which they bred. Each mating produced twenty to fifty eggs, ensuring that Chath had a horde to work with, and that they never ran out of food. One last thing was put into place before everything clicked... the desire to die. To die, even by fire, meant they fed their race, and left no fear left to use against them. Every last one could be slaughtered, save one, and that one would charge the enemy lines.

200 individuals were pulled from the shifting sands, and began to exist as a race, procreating as soon as they found somewhere to settle. If needed, they would change genders to produce more rapidly. The large dragon that looked so like them was feared and respected, and so his commands were heeded. He was the Creator, the almighty, and he wanted them to push north, expand into the forests in the west. Their objective was to kill and consume any who were dressed like a worshipper of Earth, armed, or within the southern mountain ranges. They were to spread themselves out and breed, kill, consume. Chath himself then flew to meet Bellegar's army. He was prideful, but not stupid... his distance would be kept as he issued his warning. "This is your only chance to turn back, Bellegar. I do not wish for war, but if you seek it, you shall have it. Those that do not turn back will only survive by giving themselves to me. You will also return my missionaries to me, or I will come and retrieve them. These are my terms, and they are not negotiable. Turn back." he orders. If Bellegar's response was even slightly less than favorable, Chath would respond in kind by lighting the forests around them on fire, and willing the fire to spread, impeding their progress forward. They would have to wait, or turn around and go around or through the mountains. If the God of Earth tried to negotiate, only one thing would sate Chath's rage and his people's desire for justice... and that was to have Bellegar hand over one of his generals in payment for two missionaries, who would otherwise have made fine commanding officers themselves.

In the meantime, those that were deemed worthy and capable were granted the title of Gifted, and an army was formed. Every able body would be equipped and put on standby. Those to the north were given equipment to defend themselves. Weapons, even armor, were going to come in handy. The Templars became generals, leading armies of the combat capable north to the outpost, and to the west of that location, building an outpost nearer to the border in preparation. First, the blitz, then the attrition, and then finally, a final blow would be given to Bellegar if he continued. Once past the fire, the ash and smoke filled woods would yield only death by lizard, or Suo-ata, as they became known as. Death and disease would be granted upon Chath's opposers, and with it, horror. The Suo-ata did not fear death, and hated the giant beings that Bellegar brought forth. Chath, while giant, was also on fire, and therefore not to be messed with. Besides, one didn't strike at their creator, especially when one cannot be reasoned with. The closer Bellegar fights his way to the desert, the worse it would get. Provided he even got to the desert, more awaited him. Fires would not light when the desert grew cold at night, Suo-ata would continue to reap this new source of food and reproduce because of it, and just as Chath said, only those that turned their worshipful mind towards him would be spared.

One last thing was left to be done... a bird of fire, a phoenix, was sent north to the God of Air, to communicate what his missionaries could not. He wished to help and be helped. The same message he'd given his missionaries was given to the people of the north, and their god if she chose to listen. This time, he informs her of his intent to repel Bellegar. He wished for her blessing to take to the skies, as well as a similar situation of mutual aid that Morganna and Bellegar had, if only for the sake of safety. More than anything, he simply wished to communicate with her more easily, and so a way to do that was requested.

So, the first war had begun, and all would see that Chath was not to be trifled with. His rage was unmatched, and once he had the chance, Bellegar would see the anger he'd invoked by his acts of bloodshed. He would realize that he was making a mistake, one way or another, but perhaps he would listen to reason once he had been put back in his place.