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Ragon

God of Survival, Savage Fury, and Primal Order

0 · 1,750 views · located in Ashariel

a character in “The Gods: The Beginning”, as played by Raidose

Description



"The Prey is claimed by the Predator. The Predator is claimed by the Earth. The Earth is claimed by the Prey. The Order is kept, and the Circle turns......"




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Title: The Primordial, Father of Beasts, The Wrath of the Untamed Wilds, the Chain-Breaker, and Guardian of The Order.

Gender: Favors Male

Alignment: Lawful Neutral, though the law he serves is his own.

God Appearance:
"Of what use have I to wear the skin of sheep? When Man has shown itself to be wolves, then I shall honor them by taking their form."

Ragon's appearance is that which encompases best what he views as perfection. As he crafts and makes new beasts, his form is frequent to change as well. The one he's settled on was one of mourning for an age before the taint of Man, and that of the first form he'd ever taken. An age of true perfection, of prehistoric creatures. Plaited scales of cobalt blue, dotted with scars of worthy hunts. Ebony black talons faded into stone grey by rough wear and use. Ivory white teeth stained from a fresh kill. Gleaming, piercing predatory eyes, shining as if jewels from the abyss itself. Stretching and straining at his full ten-foot-tall height, testing out his new reptilian form, Ragon was quite pleased in it. As always he keeps his massive stone Macuahuitl war club, Gronn, by his side. This weapon was forged from Ragon's own rage, a sign of his anger at the mere presence of humans.

Personality: Ragon was born from jagged rock and oozing primordial sludge. As he tells it, it was his blood that spilled forth into the mud and his breath that lingered in the air. The former took shape with claws, teeth, and a great hunger. It laid eyes on the later, a lesser creature birthed with no such gifts. Natural selection played out before the newborn God, and in it he saw great wonder. Perfection, a cycle that would stay strong throughout countless eons. The ancient God would be sure of this, as he claimed the sole duty of being it's vanguard. Ragon claims to be the first God, calling himself the Primordial because of this. While there is no evidence to support this, there's none to deny it either. As far as the memories of Gods goes, Ragon has simply just always been there, with no knowledge of a time before him. One thing is certain, no matter how domestic or docile, no matter how pretty or peaceful, Ragon can bring about the savage instinct and will to survive in any beast. In that respect, they are all his children.

Bound to his own guidelines of survival and instinct, prey and predator, Ragon acts as beastial and wild as the domain he claims.Whereas some are keen to keep their emotions and true intents to themselves, Ragon is as his children are. He hides nothing. His threatening stance, twitching tail, hissing snarls, and soul-crushing eyes, they all show exactly how he feels. Secrets are simply illogical to him. Of the Gods he hates, he makes it well known. Of the Gods he lusts over, well..... Animal instinct is as it is. Though mostly his views of his brothers and sisters is that of confusion or contempt. Many of them lead their mortals to tame the world around them, and further upset the Primal Order Ragon had founded so long ago. More often than not he keeps to himself, snarling and hissing from his corner of the world. He cares not for the kingdoms founded by his kin, as their land has become tamed and tainted. He waits for the time when the forces of nature will reclaim what once was beautiful, and the Great Circle turns once again.

Ragon is stuck in his ways and has absolutely no interest in changing. Obsessed with his ideals of the cycle, the order of predator, prey, and their relation to the Earth. Everything has purpose, meaning, a reason to be. Every function or aspect on every animal serves to help survival. What else could be important? Perhaps that is what he hates so much about mortals or indeed his kin. Their constant wants and desires for things that have no purpose. In the end, he waits to see the wilds once again retake the lands the humans so twist. When once again Man is forced to flee from the predators of the ancient world. On that day, Ragon will only grin and bellow a spiteful laughter. Some may call Ragon an evil God, but this isn't true. He is neither good nor evil. He is simply what is, what was, and what, in his mind, should always be. The balance persists, the Primal Order is maintained, and The Great Circle turns.....

He is not a God of death, war, bloodshed, or conquest, and thus has no interest in such things. He is, however, wrathful and easy to anger. Challengers are met with brutal retaliation, and he welcomes all those who seek to take his lands, for they make excellent hunting.

There are things which anger the Beast-Father more than anything. Captivity is chief among them. Those that would tame his creations, to break their wills and make them docile, they reserve the greatest of Ragon's hatred. Only once has he known what it is to not be free, when first he lay in a cradle of muck and Earth. Never would he be held again. Ragon sunders the cage, snaps the leash, and breaks the chain. Freedom and survival are the same thing in Ragon's mind, for while a blade can mean the death of the body, a leash means the death of the soul. This hatred does go beyond his animals, as those who make slaves of other humans are equally his enemies. Of the few humans who pray to Ragon, slaves often ask him for freedom. Ragon does not give them any key to their bonds, but instead the will to free themselves.

Despite all, Ragon is not always a wrathful deity, for it is only humans who bring out the rage within him. Left to his own devices, within the confines of his great rainforest, Ragon knows of both peace and beauty. Of herbivores and carnivores, he favors neither. He can not take sides, for that would upset the balance. Both are made strong by him, the plant eater having the same odds to escape as the meat eater to feed. Vegetation is abundant, no fighting for territory needed for the herbivores. They feel safety in numbers, and indeed the smaller ones take shelter with the larger ones. An herbivore need only worry about breeding rights and surviving those that hunt them. The life of a carnivore is one of struggle. Food is often difficult to attain, and constantly contested over. Larger predators eat the smaller ones. Territory wars occur frequently. Packs constantly weed out the weaklings from their ranks, lest they drag all down with them. The herds are thinned on both sides, as they must be. A lesson he can never expect most of his siblings to understand, and of those that do are never in the favor of the Primal Order.


"Remember, my brothers and sisters, it was I who was first here, and it is I who shall be last here."


Opinion of mortals:

"Man claims dominance in all kingdoms but mine, for they are not of the Primal Order. They are prey who have taken to slaying the predators. The Great Circle grinds at their existence. If you should seek survival here, Mortal, then go and hunt my beasts before you become the hunted. Proclaim yourself carnivore and earn your place, or my children shall eat well tonight....."


Ragon makes no attempt to hide his utter hatred for "civilised" humans, seeing them as mere monkeys who picked up sticks and broke the food chain. They do not evolved to the lands they infest but rather pervert the land to their own mindless needs. His attitude to the mortals which now pay heed to him is that of disrespect. He shall either see them proven worthy of his gaze or see them thrust back into their place in the bellies of the great beasts he claims as children. As such, these hunter-gatherer cultures are filled with a strong animalistic instinct and a stronger pursuit of survival. The strong are rewarded with the right to persist in Ragon's hunting grounds and the weak are forgotten, or worse. Very rarely does one earn his eye, but to do so is too step away from humanity and strive towards living as the beasts you hunt.

He is not, however, without a blessing to bestow. In your darkest hour, in the greatest need, when all that matters is survival or vengeance, pray to the Chain-Breaker for the strength of his children. Ragon does not grant men with physical strength, as his brother Braun does, but strength of will. He riles their spirits and sets their hearts aflame, giving them a boundless well of willpower the likes of which could shatter mountains. The sheer, raw determination to do whatever it takes. Whether to live, to be free, or to fight, Ragon's Gift is to unleash the unrestrained drive hidden within every living creature. It is as a wounded animal, backed into a corner. It will never submit. It will growl and roar, gnashing fangs and swiping with claws. Fighting with everything it has, and more. Fighting well past what should have been it's limit, past when it's body should have given up. It is dauntless, knowing no fear or pain. If ever you've heard tale of a man going berzerk, becoming wild and savage, it is likely the work of Ragon. Such raging warriors have been known to bite out chunks of flesh from their foes, charge through volleys of arrows, or indeed even push up the shafts of spears to kill it's wielder. Ragon gives the strength to live or kill by any means.

Opinion on Gods: Will add to this later

God’s Domain:
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The realm of Ragon is a mirror image of the land of his birth, his home built atop the hole he crawled out of. Ragewood Forest as the mortals call it, a land forgotten by time and home to the greatest monsters of myth and legend. No mortals aside from the Ah'Chagi may ever wish to lay claim here, less they earn the ire of the most savage of Gods. In Ragon's realm, it matches this massive rainforest and dense, dark jungle for every stone and leaf. Ragon's influence spills over into the Mortal world from here. Gracing beast and sometimes man with his divine savagery. Sometimes he may even poses his children as to further insight his will, to test the hunters of the Ah'Chagi and to repel those who tread where they aren't welcome.

Ragon roams his realm as but a ghost to it's material counterpart, the invisible hand guiding unseen devices. Though some may catch quick glances of his shadow, the glint of his animalistic eyes, he appears only to those he wishes. Sometimes as a manifestation of himself, others as only a voice in one's mind. Though more often than not he is in the skin of an animal or the flair of instinct warning you of what is to come. The trees grow at his command, the mountains tremble at his call, everything within these woods heeds his words. In times of war the army of Ragon is not the humans who dwell here but the beasts who truly call this massive rainforest home. Ragon is highly protective of Ragewood, and as such never truly leaves it unattended.

Ragewood Forest is a manifestation of how Ragon sees our world should be. It's a dark and unforgiving place, where only those who can fight to their last for survival can exist. The thick canopies are completely enveloping in some places, blocking out the sun entirely. Twisted, thorned vines drape down from the mighty branches of elder trees in curtains of thick green. The trees are alive with the more agile and noisy of Ragon's makings, while patrolling the forest floor are those with nothing to fear. This is the kingdom of all great animals, the pinnacles of evolution, the purest of Ragon's children. No army has ever dared to dream of invading these woods, but Ragon welcomes any to try......

In the Hall of Gods, Ragon sits not on some glorified chair, something idolized by the monkeys, but instead on proof of his abilities as a hunter. Stretching out his form atop a massive and ever-growing pile of bones from hunts long since passed. Luxeries and beauties mean noothing to him, and he fails to see their value to others as well. Though in the end, his bone-lounge means nothing in comparison to his real seat of power.

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This ephemeral stone disk is the Great Circle, the very balance of nature as it is. The symbolic force guiding the relationship between predator, prey, and the world around them. No item is as dear to Ragon as this, having spent several ages crafting it to what it is now. That is why, when not in use, Ragon keeps this phantom rock inside him. Swallowing it as a breath and exhaling it with the same ease.




The Avatar of Ragon is not limited to one mere mortal, for it is a title and position rather than required duty. To be His Avatar, one must show that they are a beast trapped within human skin, and Ragon's greatest gift to them is to abandon the body of Man when they so choose, to take life anew as an timeless creature of legend.

Fogrimm Rage-Born
The first Avatar of Ragon was the first mortal to show that humans had any hope of earning his favor. In a time not long after the start of Man's Empire, when few if any humans even knew of a God of Beasts, Ragon lay sleeping within his great wilderness. Something roused the slumbering God, and he began to stir to the smell of blood and the beat of a raging and mighty heart. A sole man, held by a chained wrist, captive to bandits and barbarians. These filth took shelter close to the borders of Ragewood, a mistake the Beast-Father would quickly remedy had their prisoner not earned his eye. He was but a man, of lowly birth but of strong body. His heart knew not fear, for there was no room. His mate was killed before him, and in his prison such sorrow became fuel for a primal fire, a writhing hatred unseen by Ragon in any before. This man, this mortal wanted nothing more than revenge, and held no boundaries on how to attain it. So much so that he began to pull with all his might against his shackles, and continued to pull even after what began to give way was not the iron chain, but the flesh and bone of his own arm.

He pulled and twist with all his being, howling in rage and agony, till at last he could simply pull no more. The leash had broken his will with but a few sinews left to hold him, but Ragon would not have this. He wanted to see more, to see a man embrace the will of a true animal, to know the fire that burned within all those truly free. The coals still lay hot, and Ragon's hand merely needed to stir them once again. The chain was shattered, the last strands of meat tore away, and Fogrimm was free. Free to take his vengeance upon his captors. With a bloody roar and inhuman ferocity, he tore them asunder with claw and teeth. Baptized into a life untamed, Fogrimm had shed away the faux of human civility and embraced the Beast-Father's, his
Father's rule. So was born the first Avatar of Ragon.

It was not long after that many began to follow, and in time they lived by the test of Ragon's paradise, the fight for survival and the price of true freedom. The Ah'Chagi were formed. Many years came and went, and the Fogrimm did live to his name. His fire burned bright for nearly three lifetimes before it began to fade. When the embers only smoldered, and Fogrimms rage had finally left him, he looked to his Father for one wish. He could no longer live in a lie of skin and flesh, no longer wear the mask of a man, but to live in the peace he'd seen in some of Ragon's makings. The Primordial indeed held no love for any human, but Fogrimm was no longer such in His eyes. He was indeed Ragon's child, and had lived in the captivity of being something he was not for many long years.

The Rage-Born no more, Ragon fulfilled the Fogrimms wishes. He was made into a beast worthy of the impact he left, a species which to this day all Ah'Chagi hold sacred. One that knows no true predator and lives true to his Avatar's stature. The Coastal Shelled-Goliath. To this day he lives on as the greatest of them all, and true to Ragon's word, he knows only peace. This was one of the first creatures Ragon ever made that was meant for the sea, having bartered for the blessing of his brother Ulmo. They carry the might of the Fogrimm, and are sworn to defend the kingdoms of Beast or Sea should they so be called.

N'hakii The Den-Mother

One of the first daughters of the Ah'Chagi, born 7 winters after the Fogrimm had left them, N'hakii was born strong and enduring, as all her people were. Where in the tribe, it was most common that the females would take care of the tribe. Only a few of them proved they could hunt, and N'hakii was determined to be among them. Though she but a young girl, and one of small stature at that, no taller then five-five. Repeatedly, her right was denied to her, till finally she could bear no more. Desperate to prove she could survive in the Ragewood better than any man, she vowed to leave her people for ten days and nights, with no tools, weapons, food, or indeed even clothing. None had ever stayed alone in the dense jungle for so long, let alone with nothing to protect them. Still she left, and in this act of rebellion, Ragon recognised that she sought to break bindings of a different sort. Just as the chain had binded Fogrimm before her, these customs sought to shackle her as well. Ragon watched with waiting eyes as day and night passed, watched her as she hunted the prey and fled the predator.

When she held doubt, Ragon would test her spirit. When she hungered, He saw her challenged. When she would rest, He made sure she stayed alert. When she returned, Ragon made sure she was freed, for no one would question the Avatar of the Beast-Father. She had succeeded in breaking the chains which bound her, she showed the strength needed to survive, she had lived as any of Ragon's children, and she did it all simply to be free. She was as worthy of the title as the man who once stood before her. As the second Avatar, she quickly earned the title of Den-Mother, for ironically she did tend to take care of the others of the tribe. However, the title also referred to the fang and claw she showed when she hunted or fought. It was told to be as a mother wolf fighting for her pups, there were no limits to her wrath. In the tribe, she did take heart to those like her, but she did not nurse or coddle the weak. She instead taught them to be strong, how to fight or aid those who can. Even those who couldn't hunt could still pull their weight.

Her time among the creatures of Ragewood had taught her much, and she earned the loyalty of several of them. It was she who prayed and promised Ragon to never take the freedom of his children away, but to form kinship with them. It was from this pact that the caretakers came into being. She taught of how to bribe the Roe with sweetnuts and fruits to watch over their camps, the Roe's alert eyes and ears watching over them and their screeching howls warning them of danger. She showed how to milk the mother Albalis for when the hunts were scarce. Eventually her teachings led to the Beast Riders of the Kar'skani Tribe. Where as Fogrimm Rage-Born was responsible for the start of the Ah'Chagi, it was N'hakii the Den-Mother who made them a true people, with a culture they hold sacred today. Sadly, she held her place as Ragon's Avatar for only a few short years.

The followers of Ragon, the Ah'Chagi people, were not immune to War amongst themselves. War is not human nature, for all animals war for space and food. Human nature is to war for useless things. Nevertheless, Ragon may dislike when His beasts spill pointless blood, but the humans are not His children. If they seek to weaken themselves in His unforgiving paradise, then so be it. Though when an adversary came from the sands of the West with the intent to conquer, Ragon took notice. They came with torches, spears, and nets. They came to take and capture. They came for slaves. As true to Ragon, the R'kasni, the tribe made by His own Avatar, fought to the death rather than be taken. All but her, the Den-Mother. N'hakii had been out on the hunt when the raid happened, only to return to horror. In her sadness, her grief, she pleaded to her Father for greater strength. She pleaded that she could hunt these men for all her days. Ragon listened, and granted her wish. This is why the Wargs stalk the grasslands of the West now, guarding Ragewood from those of the West. She is our Den-Mother, and she watches over us still.

Avatar Name: Culgroth Half-Man
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Personality: WIP
Magic Abilities:
Animal Aspects- Culgroth was granted the gifts of several of Ragon's children. He possesses claws that are as sharp as iron, and teeth meant to tear meat. His skin is as a thick hide, equal to a course leather. A bolstered musculature allows him inhuman speed and might, the strength of five full-grown men. His eyes are as keen as a bird of prey, able to see clearly over vast distances or in the darkest of nights. His skin picks up on the movements of air around him, giving him a close-range radar of sorts. Of course, one would first have to get past his senses of smell and hearing, which is better than most canines.

Primal Roar- Channeling the very aspect of Ragon into a deafening howl, Culgroth inspires a fear in those around him on an instinctual level. He reminds Man that they are a prey species, that there once was a time when they feared the many beasts of the world. Most of all, he reminds them that they are sheep, who stand before an Alpha Predator. This fear can only be resisted by those with a direct link to divinity. No matter how great the magic, how brave the heart, how stalwart the soul, they shall all flee blindly in a mad panic. The weak shall part, leaving only the Avatars of Gods to stand before him.

Will of the Wilds- All Ah'Chagi have deep reserves of willpower, the ability to resist fear and even some magic. Magic, for mortals, is the effort of enforcing one's will upon existence. To that respect, Willpower is everything, the strength to cast greater spells or to fight them off. Culgroth possesses a nearly boundless reserve of willpower, able to ignore pain and injury and is completely immune to fear. In all the world, only a small handful of beings can claim to rival him. He is quite skilled at spellcraft, able to smite his foes with fire and lightning, but his most impressive aspect is his ability to resist the effects of spells. He is, infact, not only immune to magics which would control him, but can cause them to backfire on the caster. He can not be controlled, and any who would try will find their eyes bleeding and their wills crushed by the untameable might of Ragon himself.

The Truth Beneath the Skin- The Last Gift of Ragon, the abandoning of the lie and embrace of that which an Avatar truly is. A wild and free animal, trapped within a human body. This power is one used at the end of an Avatar's service, becoming a Legendary Creature, the Primarch to a new breed of Ragon's Children. They live out their still-timeless lives knowing what it is to be truly free. Whether by the path of the Fogrimm, a peaceful existence in the body of a majestic beast, or the path of the Den-Mother, to live beside Father Ragon as a hunting hound, this is the end of all Avatars. Once accepted, none who are chosen truly ever wish to return to humanity.



Hero: Khorin Fo'khan, Scourge of Man.
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Rank/Reason: Tes'han Khi (Head Holy Warrior of Ragon)
Personality:The descendant of the mighty Rage-Born, the Fogrimm who first earned the gift of Ragon, Khorin is the ideal aspect of the Ah'Chagi warrior. Long he has hoped to gain the eye of Ragon as his great Grandfather had done, but never will he question the Beast-Father. kKhorin is like a cold fire, blackened embers on the outside barely holding the waiting flames within. Combat stokes the inferno, and Khorin is most at home when he is tested for survival. He believes himself to be the perfect champion of Ragon, a hunter with no equal. Indeed, there is some truth to his words, for no other Ah'Chagi can best him in combat. He is the Scourge of Man, the Slayer of Knights, and the Bane of the Western Foe. He pays tribute to the Rage-Born in many ways, and is indeed a pinnacle of Man in the untamed wilds, but he does this for glory. He does it to prove he is the child of Fogrimm, not simply for the sake of survival. This is why Ragon looks elsewhere for His chosen.

Khorin enters combat with only a small machete-like blade and his chitin armor. He makes use of the weapons of his slain enemies, and is told of as being nearly super-human in his prowess. His body is marked with scars, yet no foe has ever touched his skin with a blade. Khorin does this himself to mark each battle he has won. His strength, agility, and instincts make him a feared combatant in the field, as his acrobatic skill allows him to deftly avoid the attacks of any lesser man. His ability to stalk silently as lead to the death of many scouts and even assassins, and his keen eye and swift hand nearly always finds the throats of more heavily armored foes. To put it bluntly, facing Khorin in the jungles is a death sentence. Any mere human will scarcely ever see him, nigh ever come close to hitting him, and never escape him.



Hero: Noxx'tou the Headhunter.Image
Rank/Reason: Kesh-Rha'Ki (Head Military Chaplain/Warrior Priest)
Personality: Of the only beastfolk who serve Ragon, Noxx'tou seeks his lords forgiveness for the betrayal of the Sithis-uhr. Noxx'tou leads the tribe of the S'ha-naku, the priests of Ragon. They are the holy priests, the keepers of shrines and the main defenders from the forces of the outside world. Noxx'tou is quite aloof, mysterious and rather dead-pan. He does not relish in fighting, nor thrill of hunt. He simply does as his Lord would have him and enforces that others do the same. He is a gifted user of spells of trickery and deception, though has sworn to only use them against the foes of the Ah'Chagi people. He is often in a stern and heated rivalry with Khorin, one wanting to prove his skill while the other merely wishes to please Ragon. Noxx'tou is known as the Headhunter because he has claimed the duty of hunting down all who are unwelcomed in Ragewood, and slaying any his God commands. Collecting their skulls to present to Ragon, in further attempts to tempt His forgiveness of the beastfolk.

Noxx'tou is a satyr, one of the few to live in the Ragewood. He wields arcane magic and two massive swords in combat, where his speed, reaping swings, and mystic arts are used to demoralize the enemy. Of course, he is well known for severing the heads of enemy commanders and leaving the corpse for others to find. He is an assassin, a messenger, and a weapon of fear. He spreads the rumors of Ghosts in the Ragewood and the many curses of Ragon. Noxx'tou often charges his foe with great seed and a multitude of magical decoys, often leaving them to swing away at fakes until they leave an opening. Then, in that one instance of weakness, Noxx'tou beheads them with a single stroke.



Heores:K'hansii the Wolf-Daughter
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Terrain Preference: The Ah'Chagi are different from men in that they adapt to the land, rather than adapt the land to them. They can be at home anywhere, preferring those places where the taint of civilization can not reach. Their home is, however, the Ragewoods. The massive rainforest covers nearly a thousand miles, containing dense jungles, marches, swamplands, high peaks, low plains, great mountains, and coastal edges. Backed by the ocean, the coast is dotted with tropical lagoons and small islands. The North-West leads into the Golden Plains, a waving ocean of grass that slowly recedes into the Shifting Desert. The Eastern arm snakes out into the grassy planes, bordering on the lands of several different civilizations. Many tell stories of the Ragewood being an accused place, where only monsters and savages dwell.

Name of Kingdom/Empire: The Ah'Chagi have no Empire or Kingdom. They simply live.
Capital: Kah-Ah'Chag/The Primordial Cradle.
The closest thing the savages of the Ragewood have to a capitol. Mostly comprised of tree villages, the whole populace is built around a large pit, what they refer to as The Primordial Cradle. They believe it to be the Birth Place of their God, Ragon. A gigantic tree grows out from the center, with leaves of blood red. Each tribe as a Longhouse built on the sides of this tree, with it's branches being a sacred meeting place to pay worship to the Beast-Father. This tree was the start of Ragewood Forest, growing from the very hole Ragon crawled out of when the world was born. No place is more sacred to the Ah'Chagi, and as such it is guarded fiercely. No matter disputes among clans, all will heed the call to defend Kah-Ah'Chag in times of war. This is the ancient home of the Fo'khan, the children of the Fogrimm and the first Ah'Chagi. They are the fiercest warriors in all of the tribes, though the fewest. Sharing their home with people from the other tribes limits their expansion, though each Fo'khan is said to have the souls of beasts, worth their stones in warriors of lesser tribes. Khorin Fo'khan gives proof to this.

Major Cities: Give a few major cities in your lands.
Society: (what is it like to live amongst your people? Are they friendly? Hostile? (Give at least 1 paragraph worth of description) you can use the titles below for guidance).
[People]
[Economy]
[Politics]


Other: What else do you want to tell us?

So begins...

Ragon's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Anansi, The Spider Goddess. Character Portrait: Espiri Character Portrait: Braun Character Portrait: Ragon Character Portrait: Karkorthi
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The Age of Avatars and Mortals

In which Avatars are chosen by the Gods to represent them to the mortal races and guide their followers' kingdoms.



Nex and Cain's punishment for their transgression was lenient, given the circumstances. As selfish and arrogant as the god was, Nex had revealed a new innovation which could be used by the gods to guide and protect their mortal followers without worrying about the threat of destruction inherent in the divinities directly interfering with mortals: the Avatar. The Avatar was an unique being: not quite divine, but not quite mortal either. He or she was connected to their patron deity in a way no mortal could hope to comprehend, gifted with divine power, knowledge, and wisdom. The Avatars were the few mortals who could travel to the Realm of the Gods at will. This innovation went far beyond what Nex had originally envisioned. The Avatar was not just a tool for a deity to enforce his or her will upon their followers, he or she was their advocate. Through them, the gods learned more about their own creations.

Thus, Nex and Cain were sentenced to a slumber that lasted until every deity had chosen his or her own Avatar or chose not to select one. Nex's followers, however, did not forget their god or their semi-divine leader. Nex's teachings were remembered and spread throughout the humans who made their home in the Shifting Desert. Thus, when Cain returned and proved his claim of kingship and identity as the Avatar of Nex by conquering the Qarthian Tribes.

The Gods were not untouched by Time, however. Despite mortal perceptions of the agelessness of the gods, the deities knew times of great joy and great. The birth of Nigriv and Valiance were occasions of great joy for the gods, but the death and fading away of their siblings took its toll. Tywin's death in particular was a shock to the gods. He had seemed so strong, but his mental state was unstable. Braun himself had taken charge of Tywin's funeral and like all the acts of the God of Strength and Brotherhood, it was immortalized in song both in the Realm of the Gods and in the Realm of Men.




Caspian

Atalantae... Truly, in Caspian's opinion, it was the greatest city in the world. It lacked the famous Academy at Icharus, it was nowhere near as opulent as Gela, and the dour grimness of Jukta, but it remained the largest and greatest of the cities of the Avuvians. Only the walls of Jukta rivaled the great concentric fortifications of Atalantae. Though all Avuvian cities were trade hubs, no other city had the sheer quantity and quality of goods pouring into it as Atalantae. Today, only he remembered its humble beginnings.

He was born a fisherman like his father and his father before him all the way back to the time Ulmo first made himself known to the mortal men who were drawn to the Sea. Today, his 16th birthday, was the day he would finally be allowed to take his father's ship out to Sea on his own.

"Son, please be careful," his mother warned him worriedly, "Remember the first thing Lord Ulmo revealed to us: Neither the Sea's nor his moods are fixed. The Sea can turn violent when you least expect it."

"Do not worry, Mother. I will be fine," he told her in a placating tone, the type that young men used when they wanted their parents reminded them of a piece of wisdom that they had heard countless times before. His mother sighed even as his father spoke, placing a big, callused hand on his shoulder.

"Do not sail beyond sight of land, Caspian. You do not know what it is to be on the open Sea."

"I won't. I promise," he told them.

Of course, he did not keep his promise. The wind was behind his back and the Sea air was in his lungs. The Sun was shining without a cloud ins sight. He cast his nets in the shallows, but found nothing. So, he sailed further and further, recasting his nets as he did so until, finally, he was indeed out of sight from land and had nothing to show for it. He grimaced and cursed and did not notice how the sky darkened as the day went on until, finally, it was as though the sky was thrust open as water poured from above and the waves shook and crashed against his vessel. He plunged put all his strength into maintaining course with his rudder, desperately sailing back to whence he came. Lightning flashed and he cursed at Ulmo.

"Damn you, I will not die like this! I'm going home and there's nothing you can do to stop me!" he roared. Almost in answer, a great wave crashed against his boat and he cried out in fear. He tried to drain his vessel with a bucket, but failed. His boat fell apart and he sank into the abyss.

It was beautiful he had noticed, in a grim sort of way. Despite his pride, he prayed to Ulmo to care for his parents and that they would somehow know that he was sorry for disobeying them. In that instant, he water around him seemed to glow in an ethereal blue and silver light. "Am I dead?" he asked himself. His lungs no longer burned from the salt water filling them. Then, he saw him. He was like a man, but more than a man. His hair was an unnatural blue color and his blue and silver robe did not seem wet, though they were both submerged in the Sea. In fact, he did not seem to be swimming at all. He just moved, as though he was simply willing it.

"You are a proud young man," the man said and his words seemed to acho around him, like the song of a whale and it was then Caspian recognized him, his eyes daring to the trident he carried.

"Are you here to lead me to the Land of the Dead, Lord Ulmo. Or are you here to punish me?" he asked, trying to conceal his fear. The god simply smiled.

"Neither. Normally, I do not rescue foolish boys who chose to test the Sea, but I see something special in you. You have a hidden strength beyond most mortals," the god told him. Then, Ulmo approached him and pressed their foreheads together as light shined around them and Caspian almost screamed at the multitude of sensations he felt. He felt far older than his 16 years and far more powerful. He gasped as Ulmo pulled away.

"We are bonded forever," the Sea God told him, "Come. Return to our people. You are my gift to them, my Avatar."

Without knowing how he was able to, Caspian willed the water around him to propel him forward. Caspian smiled and laughed in euphoria, not questioning what this meant, simply reveling in it. He almost didn't here Ulmo's words in his mind.

"Good luck, Caspian."


The Avatar of Ulmo smiled from his place in the highest part of Atalante at the top of the highest tower of the Citadel. He had not known what it meant then, but he did not regret it now, even as he mourned the friends and family he watched grow old and die. He knew better than most that death wasn't the end.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Anansi, The Spider Goddess. Character Portrait: Espiri Character Portrait: Braun Character Portrait: Ragon Character Portrait: Karkorthi
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Image


The pass of Kal'Thundgar, one of eight mountain passes to the north of Numenor, cutting through the towering and impassible Spine of the World. It was the narrower of the eight, and only allowed for small columns to navigate its treacherous paths. Long had each pass been protected by the Frostback clan (center armor) a clan of rugged and hardy lycans who had sworn an oath to protect the mountains of the north from invaders. Such an oath as was being fulfilled this day...

The orcs of the Varish Marshes to the north west of the spine had surged out of their territory. If they were fleeing, or simply seeking to extend their lands was unknown to the lycans. However what was evident, was that they butchered and raided everything in their paths. Scouts had reported other villages outside of Numenor torched and put to the sword, and soon after their filth was crawling over the hills of Kal'Thundgar. The Frostbacks fought valiantly, holding the line and keeping the hordes from pushing to far in, but they proved to many....

Finally after months of fighting had brought renewed hope as the First Legion, had reinforced the Frostbacks and pushed the hordes back out of Numenor. The threat however was not over, as instead of route and flee, the monsters simply gathered their forces and waited to attack....


The clouds began to slowly and sporadically block the heavens above, and with it the all to familiar rains of Numenor. On most given days, the lycans would be joyed at the blessing of their god, but now it was only adding to the tension growing between the two armies that made this field their home this day.

The lycans (right armor), a race of beings considered legend by most men and mer, had gathered under the banner of the First Legion. A renowned and famed veteran army within the Empire, whos' history dated back to the founding of the Empire and the Wraith Wars. The army condensed around the opening of a narrow pass, Kal'Thundgar.

Across the field, a wide and filth infested horde of orcs had crawled from the swamps to challenge them. Their hisses and shrikes were meant to intimidate the stalwart defenders, but instead made them seem only that much more barbaric. The rain pattered against the armor of both lines, and the slow rise of steam from the heated bodies. This was an all to familiar sight to the legionaries of the Empire.

Across the lycan lines men and women (left armor) could be seen shouting orders and giving commands. They were the elite of the Empire, the third tier of military leaders. From young and brash lieutenants to seasoned and grizzled field marshals, each had the task of carrying for the men and women under them, and each was willing to risk their lives for the Empire.

"Skirmish formations" A strong and commanding voice said riding through the lines

Immediately orders were being give and the legions were shifting. Where before the infantry had made a solid line, they now split and flanked their archers.

"I was beginning to think you would not show" Khali, a hero amongst the lycans and famed sorceress, spoke as her brother trotted up beside her.

Dragonmiir removed his helmet, "What and miss another battle" he smirked "Nonsense"

A third figure rode up beside the heros, this ones blonde hair bounced softly over her shoulders "I suspect this to be short, though the lack of mages will simply draw out the inevitable" Katharine said

"Lack of magic" Khali asked raising her brow

Dragonmiir brushed the comment aside "The mages are present sisters"

"Really?" Katharine leaned forward in her saddle "Because I didn't notice a single witcher or battle mage when I rode up"

"They are here" Sargon pointed to the western forest, where a distinct hawk could be seen flying above "When we route these beasts they will head for the forest, thinking they are protected from our arrows. They will be met with far worse"

"A sure way to ensure victory" Selena said walking up "My rangers and duailsts have merged into our lines, if any orc of caliber attempts to rally or inspire this horde" she smiled and cocked her head "Well it will not last long"

Dragonmiir nodded his head, he raised his hand, and gave the signal to march. Across the lycan lines the horns of battle could be heard, and the army surged forward.

"I thought Arewan was to accompany you" Selena said to Dragonmiir

He looked to the forest where the hawk still circled "We will see her soon enough"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anansi, The Spider Goddess. Character Portrait: Espiri Character Portrait: Braun Character Portrait: Ragon Character Portrait: Karkorthi Character Portrait: Strach
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Sylvanas


Valiance bowed "May I?"

"Come" Sylvanas said gesturing with her finger, she strutted past Valiance without a second thought, making her way out of Throne Room. After a few minutes of walking through corridors, she came to the Training Room; a simple barren and empty room in which the gods and goddess would train with one another. This room was unique however, as it would mold and shape itself to the desired setting the trainees wished.

Sylvanas smiled, as the room began to shift and mold, a heavily forested grove birthed into being. She reached over her shoulders, gripping the hilts of her blades. With a graceful and quick pull, they were released from their sheaths, and with a quick twirl of her wrist the spun around to mimic her turn to face Valiance.

"I do hope your ready dear cousin" Sylvanas said lowering the tips of her swords. Her grace mirrored that of her mother, the fluidity in which she moved. The determination in her eyes however would strike unease in any god, for it was the same look that the god of shadows had. A look that let the opponent knew, regardless of their strengths and skills, they would fail.

Numenor


Cal Azroth

The Council gathered in the War Chamber, a place of power from which much of the Empires decisions had been made after Numenor had been secured. This room held the ruling class of the Empire, the "elite"; military officials, masters, and nobles as well as the ruling clan. The War Chamber was designed in an rectangular shape with rounded ends. This allowed the council members to see and speak to one another evenly, as well as give a complete view of the World Map, the enchanted floor at the center of the chamber. The floor itself had been molded to represent the whole of Ashariel, and enchanted by the Black Tower to change as the mortals of the world moved across its face.

High King Lucius Dragonstone sat at northern end of the War room, where the royal family resided, the stain glass wall behind letting in the warm glow of the morning air. The council members were present, all that could be mustered as many were dispatched to different regions or currently occupied by urgent assignments. Upon the floor walked the upper class of the military officials; High General Marrok Darkfang, High Admiral Darius Ironforge, High Marshall Alyssia Thunderstorm, High Guardian Blake Lightsheild, and High Ranger Elizabeth Silverwind.

"What issues are facing us currently warriors" Lucius said gesturing to the officials

Darkfang was the first to speak, moving to a small gap in the Spine of the World, there two armies clashed; one a solid wall of formidable men and women, the other a rabble of creatures from the depths of darkness "Your sons' troops have halted the orc advance sir" he watched as the rabble fled to the trees, and was met by mage fire "They have routed the army and killed most of the leadership. All that remains is securing the pass"

Lightsheild spoke next, kneeling in the icy snow of the north western spine "Troubling reports from the Howling Tundra my lord" he gestured to the tiny figures stumbling across the tundra, and the thick fog "The Stonehides report creatures of the undead attempting to claw their way up the mountians' cliff, some even attempting to pass the Ice Gate"she pointed to the fog "I have sent a detachment of Warden to this area" He looked to Lucius "Strong magic is at work he, dark and powerful magic"

"If they find anything, and I mean anything. Deal with it appropriately, should they need the Guardians or Stormguard they shall have it" Lucius said standing

Ironforge spoke next stepping lightly across the waters "The Crystal Sea is proving far more treacherous past the Isle of the Huntress. But out marines have proven stalwart, there are far more island chains for our people to expand"

"No challenge from Ulmo?" Lucius asked. They all knew of the unstable peace between Sargon and Ulmo. Sargon had raised Numenor from the seas, there for shrinking the domain of the God of Water. Her towering mountains shielded much of the land, also diminishing Ulmos' power and influence in the land. Sargon had tried to quell his brothers anger by agreeing that his mortals would not interfere with Ulmos', this however could be contained for only so long.

Ironforge shook his head "No challenge sir, but our ships have spotted strange vessels on the horizons. We do not know my lord"

"Find out" Lucius ordered stepping onto the floor and walking across the map "Silverwind"

"Yes my liege" The Ranger said stepping forward "The forests are quiet upon our side of the Danius River. But rangers report an increase in activity from the north of Faderlan"

Lucius rubbed his chin, most of the issues in activity were stirring in the north. Though he was not worried, the great mountains of the north were almost unnavigable by anyone but the lycans. That is assuming they were able to cross the breadth of the Danius river that flowed out to sea. "Have Seekers sent to the north, watch for anything that may come from the Tainted lands" those lands belonged to the beings of Baraku, and were known well for testing the other mortals.

"Yes my lord" Silverwind spoke

Lucius turned to Marshall Thunderstorm "Have your agents incerase their numbers, and strengthen reports"

"Yes my lord" Thunderstorm replied