Behemoth - The Impact Site

Voices... the voices... they speak in a strange tounge... they dare to wake me?

The Behemoth gave out a unearthy moan, causing the ground around it to shake slightly. Then it settled, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Jiraba - The Shadow Realm

"Fedawaeyas. Why did you come back now? Everything was going according to plan." Jiraba sat up. "I need to forge alliances, I cannot take him on alone. Curse you! Just as I had severed many ties between me and the others. Ke'yei, Draig and Riso. That's three that would never help me again. I have only one choice currently."

Jiraba created a portal to the realm of Riso and Raven, only to find that it now belonged to Riso and that Raven had gone elsewhere. He bared his teeth.
"Fine. I will have to find her manually." Jiraba looked through the realms, scanning over, staying long enough to see who it belonged to, but not what was currently occuring in it. Eventually he found Raven's new realm and stepping through he appeared before her.

Vyrykon - Deep Underground

"The Behemoth has shown signs of waking." Drazivoyrc said, coming out of a trance.
"Finally! Now can we move?" Shouted Suhpyt.
"Not yet, it has attracted much attention from the nearby mortals. We will have to sit here until the Behemoth has taken care of them."
"What makes you so sure that it will be able to?" Asked Suhpyt.
"Do you remember the last time the Behemoth was awoken?" Asked Vyrykon
"No." Replied Suhpyt flatly.
"Exactly." Hissed Vyrykon.

Fedawaeyas - The Void

"Ah, wasn't it nice to see Jiraba again." Fedawaeyas spoke out loud to himself, as he often did. "Well he can be sure I'll see him again. He owes me a debt that is very difficult to pay." He gave a dry chuckle. "Ah well. Sometimes you just have to get what you can."

He was still just a face at this point, but floating in an endless blackness, similar to Jiraba's realm, but much more vast and inaccesable to all but a certain God of Secrets. The Void. The darkest and most hostile part of the heavens. A place above the heavens. Some believed it to be a graveyard of the Gods, but it was less exciting than that. It was Fedawaeyas' realm, the other half of the skies. The other half of course was the known universe, where everyone else lived. Fedawaeyas had always preferred exclusion, it left him time to think and contemplate. Plus it stopped mortals endlessly coming up to him and asking him their fates.

He floated over to a cloud of minerals and elements, Fedawaeyas' workbench if you like. He had created Jiraba in much the same way, and as such Jiraba had created the Shadowkin likewise. But this time he was not going to create a God, no. This time he was going to jump on the Avatar band-wagon. He began at once, shaping the dust into a shape. He could give it shape, he could give it fate, but he could not give it life. He had never had that power. So he had to give it the next best thing, the same thing that had given life to Jiraba.

"A Sad Story"
Nemea's Realm

The Goddess of Gossip was reaching into the fires hovering before her, scattering shadows across the many-layered tent that formed her bedchamber. She was searching, smiling as she did so, the fire shifting colors, revealing to her the acts of her people.

"Mori, it is quite a story. A woeful one. A true testament to the humans..." she kept searching, then the fire shot up, illuminating the vaulted roofs, stretching above them, somehow fueled and depicting the events as Nemea spoke them.

"Like you, I thought it was the Wildman, Ayden Spiro, who is currently masquerading as my Avatar, who had somehow cheated you. However, he is an imposter, guided by another man. But it is yet another man entirely who returned to youth..."

Above her, the fire depicted an old man, bent over a vial of hot water, carefully dropping small red twigs into the water, while another man looked on in anger. The argument was heated. The young man thought the older man a fool. As their fight grew more and more bitter the vial of water became a more vivid gold. The young man stormed out, and the older man turned back to the now sterling golden liquid, and he took his head and his hands and he cried.

"An old Alchemist who lost a young daughter to a mysterious illness. It was the plague, one of the earliest to be taken. He'd bought her a dress she'd never gotten to wear, and he held onto it like something sacred. He had been studying a flower that grew beneath a mountain to the north of his home. He went searching. Saffron, Grumpsh's favorite. If you remember Mori, when that old fool was last in the world he left a seed that the gods couldn't destroy. They burned the ground and tried to cleave it but it would not break. For leaving something so obviously powerful in the mortal world he had betrayed the gods and was locked away."

The fires depicted Grumpsh tending to the seed, and finally being born away into his realm, silently, as always, while the seed was locked away by the other gods in a mountain, unable to sever it from the mortal world.

"Well, it turns out Grumpsh, in his madness, intended the seed to be opened simply by someone sad enough for his liking. All quite romantic to him, the endangerment of so many lives, for a seed that blossomed into a flower if touched by a tear. Sweet, if it wasn't such a powerful thing."

The flower which blossomed before the old man was transcendentally beautiful. It was also a saffron flower, but far greater. The petals were like liquid pearl amidst soft heather, and the stamen and stigma were like actual gold and fire.

"The old man breathed the vapors which emanated from that flower, and wished only to have his daughter back again. He must have seen something for he was quickly startled, and fell back. When he awoke from a stupor he found himself youthful and strong..."

Nemea smiled.

"The man has defied you Mori, and been justly punished. He has been sent back to youth, and I think he saw his daughter again. Only saw. Now he'll live on tortured even further."

She tilted her head, intrigued by the next scene in the fire.

The fire showed the newly-youthful alchemist meeting a filthy old man on the cliffs. Extending the flower a great gust of colorful pollen embraced the more wretched of the men, but it did nothing.

"The man was found by the Wildman... but the flower did not work its wonders for him. Probably some trick by Grumpsh..."

Nemea's eyes widened and she stepped back a little...

"That explains..."

The men approached a crash site. A tangled mass of scaffolding and blood, cocooned within the wreckage was the body of Rawenya, Nemea's former Avatar. The youthful Alchemist cast a cloud of pollen over the body, and in a moment her scars faded, her ruby eye fell out of its socket, a healthy eye replacing it. Her legs straightened and strengthened, and all the pains and faults she once had were washed away by the flower's pollen though it was water washing away dust. They took from her the Starweave, the glistening white piece of cloth folded into an elaborate glove that designated the Avatar. They also stole the ruby eye and other valuables.

Nemea laid back on her many couches and cushions, visibly exhausted. The fire dissipated...

"And then they found a young boy, and trained him, the spitting image of a young Ayden... With the starweave and the flower, they convinced the Dendapim that the boy was Ayden young-again... showing him as a master Alchemist, spurring the other Alchemists to work harder, and proving that he was my Avatar..."

Nemea was apparently impressed with this plot. The starweave did not glimmer and shine with the boy as it would with a true Avatar, but it still reflected light, and no Dendapim would notice. The three men, together, had forged a brilliant plan...

But why? Ayden, perhaps, wanted power, but why would the old Alchemist care for political power when before all he wanted was his daughter back? Both men were hidden amongst the shadows, advising the new "Avatar." The true Ayden spoke of plots and warfare, while the old Alchemist spoke like a reassuring mother...

"Impressive how crafty these mortals are, though troubling..."

"O brave new world! That has such people in it!"
Nonya

The months after the volcano were a flurry of construction. The Southern half of Nonya, formerly concentrated towards the river, quickly expanded. While the north had a more elegant pattern of roads with the occasional bridge leaping across the tree lined streets, in the south, the bridges were less common, replaced by connected balconies that hugged the side of buildings. Unlike in the Floating Forest district, one had to touch the ground from day to day in the South.

Bridges over the river increased. The main central one over the two houses of government with the hanging tower remained the artery of the city. The high, thin bridges boasted attractive pointed-parabolic arches, often accompanied by metalwork or attractive archwork.

Perhaps more impressive was the expansion eastward towards the sea. Because of the influx of people, the city simply opened up all of its awaited construction products. It provided pay, which the Denapim bundled back into new enterprises in the south. The Element Tower, which was carved to appear to take up the entire southern point of the rock, was now the terminating point for a large boardwalk. The city no longer obeyed the line of the coast. A great complex of floating barges, often with large shops, shipyards, and even enormous mansions, floated, rounding out the city's terrestrial form. Ships passed through at points where the docks could be slid apart, although now tall bridges were being constructed, as on land, so that ships could simply pass beneath as they could up the river.

The South rapidly became the home of the poorer classes, with the former residents moving to the new floating half of the city. This facilitated the construction of a Dendapim fleet, a lofty goal that was proving highly ineffective, as the majority of the Dendapim's meager wood supply went to constructing the floating city and the new construction to the South.

Another attempt at grandeur was the construction of the "Granary." The propagandists incessently promoted it as the new height of Dendapim ingenuity. The idea behind it was to act as a secondary Trinity Palace. It would be the Southern Half's reserve of water, food, and fortifications. The southern half of the city had a westward facing gate, which opened up to a road that cut straight through the city to a large square. The square wrapped around the largest Bathhouse in the city, which was finished in the "Months of preparation." Due north from this domed palace of hygiene was the Southern hall of government, with its bridge on the roof across the river. This axis through the city would define the southern city.

The Granary was a fortress built over the South's western gate. It faced the bathhouse and was at a perfect diagonal with The Domes of Trinity Palace and the Floating Tower of the Avatar. The Granary was supported by a great mound of Earth, which the Dendapim had excavated from a nearby hill. Through the hill was a parabolic tunnel, just like the one under the Rock, and this tunnel opened up to the south's western gate. The mound of Earth was terraced, and supported ivy, young olive trees, and palms, dispersed amongst walls and small bastions. The actual structure was dominated by a large rectangular tower set on a bias to the main building. The tower had a great pointed roof and three stories of arched windows. It was lined with small windows for cannon and had four enormous chains tethering it to the ground from each corner, which, while serving structural points, were hyped as a symbol of "holding back the Dendapim's power, lest we destroy everything."

The rest of the structure was still being built. The building was studded with small wind tower turrets, which, along with a private spring which the Granary sat above, kept a supply of ice within some of its halls. The buttresses spread out down the terraced hill, some of them forming staircases onto the walls of the city. It was being called the "Gate Spider" for that reason, along with other clever nicknames such as "the scorpion" or "the cyclops." In honor of Galatzella, a last minute addition was added. The road from the Granary to the great bathhouse was being redone as a "Qsamandar" complete with a Hexagonal gem gate and a road lined with Birds-of-Paradise flowers. It would also be decorated with a large shrine to the victims of the Dendapim, whose death was no longer looked upon as deserved. The Dendapim felt very much as victims, and the Propagandists were making sure that, when their people awoke from the horrors of the era, they would find Nonya the greatest city in Ashariel. Any concept of a "treasury" was being drained to build farms, monuments, and housing.

The Granary would serve many purposes. Beyond keeping large stocks of food, it provided a place for the south to retreat to, should the city fall to siege, as well as the center of the Southern Near Guard and the Far Guard. The soldiers had been mobilized in the "months of preparation" and had been pouring out of the city. They built roads out over the farmland, which was rightly predicted to produce an unprecedented crop due to the ash. It fell more and more heavily, but sporadically. The East had been spared, for within months (though the water was still grey) the city had generally brushed off the bulk of the ash. West of Galatzella was still caked with black, and people poured out of the now desolate side of the peninsula, adding to the toll of people pouring into Nonya. The Dendapim had become a city-state.

"The Enemy"
The Dendapimaria

The Far Guard of the Dendapim were now fighting an unseen war. It was too early for any men to have returned. Many figured they were digging through the rubble that was Galatzella.

Of greater concern was the new neighborhood that had grown within Nonya. There were neighborhoods, of course, in any city. The southeastern corner of the city was where Avuvians tended to live, and the new floating city provided their workplace. Mask worshipers had their own haunts, and generally the Dendapim managed. The Death-worshippers, however, were strange people. They survived primarily by having a far greater sense of community than any Dendapim. Sometimes people saw their elderly simply resting... doing nothing... in the middle of the day. It was disgraceful. They bought cheap apartments and did not light their street lanterns. They came together at night and chanted and some figured their were necrophiliacs and murderers. Ironically, they're corner of the city was in a prime location, just east of Floating Forest and just west of a posh district beneath the Rock.

Madame Ursa, was one of the few Dendapim to publicly interact with them. She was exceedingly kind to them. The children loved her, and soon she taught death-worshipers exclusively. She would buy the children sweet onions to munch on while she taught them, and they learned quickly. She was quickly seen as diseased and disturbed. The "dead folk" or "walking corpses" didn't prepare as fine a food as the Dendapim did. Their streets were not so aromatic with flowers, perfumes, and broths bubbling. Many figured that the great Graveyard to the north should be barred from them, lest they defile the monuments there.

As the Dendapim swarmed into Nonya, the "deadmouths" (named for their flat and strained accents) were less and less likely to gain a job involving human interaction. They were strictly forbidden from working in the fields, lest they poison the food or water, and tended to have jobs as couriers or cheap labor. In some areas they were not allowed to walk on the rooftop bridges with pedestrians, and had to move on the street level, which was often quicker anyway.

The Alchemists occasionally observed the circle rituals, which they were often afraid to approach. They would observe from nearby balconies or with spyglasses. There had been rumors that one of the deadmouths had actually returned to life. The idea was both baffling and intriguing.

"One Awake in Darkness, the Other Asleep in Light"
The Void

Grumpsh silently shifted out of reality. He left one friend for another, the sweetness of life for the sweetness of abandonment. In the void nothing had a beginning or end. There was no pain and no pleasure. In a way, it only existed because something else did. It didn't matter what. Only to the oldest gods was it known that the void could exist without a contrast. Even implying that Grumpsh or Fedawaeyas had a form in this realm was faulted logic. Too long in this place would make children of the other world mad. For Grumpsh, returning here was a unique relief.

Grumpsh broke the pleasant silence, though what he spoke could hardly be called words. More mutual understanding. The relationship of the oldest gods was not really understandable. There was resentment in their affection. Only they knew of a world before the horizon, and there was an unbreakable bond in that. However, they never saw eye to eye. They had never fought, for it would have been pointless. Generally, it was impossible to know where one stood with such deities.

"I apologize for disrupting your solitude. I only came to feel the void again after my banishment."

Howls and shouts could be heard as groups of hooded men began to run out from behind the rocks. Stole tightly gripped the hilt of his sword as they approached the caravan. His companion cursed loudly at the sight of the armed men surrounding them. "First Icarvi's damned plagues, then the volcano, and now this! Have the gods conspired to ruin us!?"

"Calm yourself," Stole growled. His eyes caste around to the other refuges. His mind raced to find a way out of this situation. "Get the others to pull their wagons into a circle around us. If they try to rush us we'll at least have some protection." The other man growled but did as he was told. He shouted at the others and slowly they started to pull into a loose formation. The ash slowed the approaching band down long enough for the refuges to set up their make shift barricade.

The bandits, for who else would the armed men be if they were in the desolate mountains at this time, pulled into a surrounding circle around the caravan. They paused as they saw the men of the caravan standing their ground behind the wagon 'wall', armed with what tools they could use as makeshift weapons. Stole knew this wouldn't end well for the caravan though. Out of the few dozen able bodied 'defenders' only a few of them were armed with an actual weapon. And among those few he guessed he was the only one with any actually experience with fighting.

These people behind him weren't soldiers. They were peasants fleeing for their lives from war, disease and disaster. They had been running for months, facing hardship after hardship and left tired, scared and hungry. The only thing that kept them going at this point was pure desperation. That desperation was what fueled what little fire they had left in them and made them willing to make a final stand if needed. That desperate rage was the only thing keeping the bandits back for the moment.

And it was only for a moment.

"Well, well, well... look what we got ourselves here boys. A couple of country bumpkins lost in the hills, and when were having a bad smog storm too." Stole glance and spotted the speaker. The leader of the group, he assumed, stepped forward as he spoke. "What do you boy's say we 'assist' them with their possessions." There was a role of of jeers from the bandit crowd. Some of the women in the crowd drew their children close, and Stole could clearly see the men readying themselves for a fight.

Stole relaxed his grip on his sword and, to everyone's surprise, walked toward the bandit leader. "Well thank you... for your offer of assistance good sir. I'm Stole, an old merc from the east. And you would be?" He held out his hand to the bandit leader. Both the refuges and the bandit's seemed put off by his sudden cheery behavior. The Bandit boss, however, seemed to be amused by it and took it in stride.

"Me name is Brackett, sir." The Bandit, named Brackett apparently, said with a grin full of rotted teeth as he shook Stoles hand. "Ya seemed pretty brave for a man surrounded by so many armed men."

"Well," Stole said casting a few glances about. "I'm more distracted by my curiosity as to why you all are out here under the ash cloud of a volcano."

"A man's got to eat." Brackett laughed. "And you'd be surprised what people are walking around with some they won't be needing."

"Won't be needing... We'd starve to death if you take anything from us you bastard!" Stole looked back at the man he had been walking with and sighed. "He's right you know. I'm afraid that, to cut to the chase, we can't let you rob us at the moment. You're gonna have to find different prey."

Brackett laughed at him and pulled a bag out. "See that's a bit of a problem. See the last time someone didn't agree with us it didn't end well." Out of the bag the bandit pulled a severed head. He threw it over at the peasants and Stole heard a few sharp cries of panic. "As you can see it was resolved, but not so pleasantly for him and his family."

"Mori's ire... It's Filus..." Stole glanced back at the refuges again to see his companion kneeling holding the head in his hands. "It's my nephew... oh... no.... no, no no no..." The man slowly sank further into the ash as he started to weep.

Stole grimaced but he couldn't do anything for the man at the moment. He knew what Brackett was trying to do. He was trying to scare the refugees out of their last remaining resolve. If he could make them panic, then a fight would be easier to win.

Well, two could play at that game. He'd learned a thing or two from Hildar's methods of diplomacy.

The one armed mercenary looked to the refugees, then the bandits, then at Brackett. "okay Brackett..." Stole said slowly. "there is something I want to point out to you. Look at your men, now at my people, now back to me. Now look back at your men, now back to my people, now back to me. Now look at my hand, notice it's empty. Now look at me, look back at my people, now back to your men, now back to me notice there is a sword in my hand, now back at your men now at my people now back to me now back at your men now too my people now back at me now down at your hands." Stole paused to take a breath. "Notice that they are missing, I cut them off when you weren't looking. You should feel the pain in about three, two, one..."

Brackett stared dumbly down at the bloody stumps where his hands were while his mind tried to process what had happened. When his thought's did finally manage to catch up the bandit leader fell to his knees screaming in pain. The some of the other bandit's reared back in shock. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is called the old spice trick." Stole said with a grin. A grin that quickly turned savage as he swung his sword and cut through Brackett's jugular. The bandit leader fell to the ground chocking on his own blood. The withering display caused several more of the bandits to step back.

"Now" Stole said fiercely. "Anyone else like to step up for my next trick. It will be a good demonstration as to why you should leave these poor sod's behind me alone." There was a long pause as none of the bandits moved. The refugees had begun to get their vigor back and even his weeping companion had paused to glare at the surrounding thugs.

"GET THEM!"

The moment was broken as one robber regained his senses and shouted to the others. Like water breaking from a dam the bandits descended on the refugees. Stole back peddled into the group as arrows flew into the crowd. the two bands met and everything dissolved into a frantic melee. People hit the ground in a bloody mess. Most were the refugees, though a decent portion came from the bandits. among them was the man had spoken with.

He hit the ash covered ground hard, a spear tip lodged in his chest. He gasped and coughed as he watched the fight around him. He'd lost his home to plague, his friends and family to this wretched volcano and bandits. And now he was about to die with everything taken from him because of greedy warlords and the gods that let him and his people suffer. He shouted with what breath he had left. Cursing at the bandit's as they killed tthe members of the caravan, cursing at the mountains, and even cursing at the gods.

He coughed and cursed as he felt the life draining from him, leaving only a festering hate in his dying heart.....

....

....

....

....

....

....

.... And then he heard a voice, more terrible and strong then any beast or man and thundering like the heavens. "You... you seem like a suitable host."

And then he felt power beyond his wildest dreams... and with it came the rage.

Fedawaeyas - The Void

Fedawaeyas put moulding his creation on hold as Grumpsh entered.

"There is no need for apologies here brother, this is as much your realm as it is mine." He mused. "And I will not condemn you for using the new tongue since I doubt many remember the ancient tongue that we once had. I must confess myself that I am rusty in that respect and thus hope you will not condemn me for also using the new tongue."

The face spun round to look at Grumpsh. He often took the form of a face, even in the Void, he enjoyed it. Fedawaeyas was never one for staying formless for too long.

"Besides, I saw it in the strands of fate that you would return here one day, just as I saw it in the strands that I too would return. My little creation has been busy hasn't he? Got his own little race of creatures, just like your creations brother. But yours have something more than Jiraba's. Your creations gave their creatures feeling and emotion, passion, joy and sorrow. Jiraba gave his sharp edges and killer instinct. I guess that reflects the creator doesn't it?"

The face smiled with a look of reminiscence. "Well, you may respond if you with brother, but I will not hold it against you if you came to enjoy the purest of silence the Void has to offer."

Suhpyt - The Behemoth Crash Site

Suhpyt had made his mind up. He wasn't going to sit and wait here any longer. He took three score Spectres with him and made for the surface. They moved silently, keeping to the shadows, moving faster than a normal human being and able to travel light in a small number.

Around two hours later the column of smoke hove into view.
"That's where it is, put a space of five yards between each of you and stay out of sight. We'll approach undetected."

The rest of the way they moved slower, making sure not to run into any humans that were also en route to the Behemoth. Eventually they saw it, and the group of people around it. Suhpyt held up an arm to signal the Spectres to stop. They would wait here, hidden from view, until the Behemoth awoke fully, then they would rush down and assist. Or that was the intended plan anyway.

The Home of Talingue

Talingue nodded to the statement made by Mori. "I would of course be happy to help all that I can." He walked to a wall in the long throne room and waved a hand. The wall lost form and became what looked like a large mirror. Talingue studied his reflection for but a moment before speaking to the object. "Show me Dendapim."

The mirror swirled and a new image appeared in its glassy surface. Dendapim was a city that seemed brimming with acitivity. Talingue could see almost inumerous masses of refugees that had packed into the city. Many were poor and destitute and the city itself seemed to struggle to support them. It was a difficult situation indeed, but what could be done. The old god of the skies thought to himself for a moment before an idea came to him.

"Food!" He said, "I will have the Avians send food to these people. My followers have more than enough by any means." Talingue turned to Mori once again and smiled at the God of Death. "Thank you for visiting me my friend, but I must go now, I have some old aquaintances to visit. Perhaps I can gain a better idea of the world as it is if I were to speak to some of the other deities." Talingue then went back to the mirror and spoke to it again. "Show me Riso and Raven." The mirror swirled and changed again though this time the image seemed to be split. It appeared that the Talingue's children were not together and were in two different realms.

Very well, I shall visit them one at a time. Talingue thought before toughing the part of the mirror that showed Riso and stepping through the glass. All at once Talingue stood in the realm of Riso, behind his son.

"Riso, how ever have you been?" Was the warm greeting.

________________________________________________________________________________________________


The Site of the Behemoth

Tameron nodded in responce to the soldiers as they introduced themselves. The spearman, apparently the leader who was called Te'al asked the Avians if they had any idea what this "behemoth" was. Tameron began to answer that they did not know anything more than the other soldeirs when the blackness of the behemoth stirred and let out a sound that would send children crying to their mothers. The Avians stopped and stared at the thing and not a sound escaped their lips for a full ten seconds.

"What ever it is, I don't like it." Was Tameron's eventual reply. "You said you were under the orders of the Avatar of Ke'yei, I am the avatar of Talingue, the god of the Avians and the sky. We should probably get some help out here to handle this "behemoth" as you called it."

The ground reverberated as an unearthly moan escaped the marred ground. The Hilart scout pressed himself even closer to the tree. There was an uncomfortable silence passing after the noise. Was it some kind of beast they came here for. It had to be some kind of monster if it could make a nose like that. Viscous man eating beast weren't uncommon in the lands of the Hilarts. But none the young scout had ever encountered could make a sound like that.

The scout was broken from his imaginings when he heard a faint very rustling in the grass. It was so quiet and lasted for so short of a time that he almost missed it. As a tracker on the savannas, you learned quickly to identify small cues when hunting. The the sound was too brief and the wind was blowing too softly to make that much noise. It could have been an animal, as said before some did prey one humans. But even among the man eaters there were none that would be stalk prey with this many people around.

He gave one last glance at the place where the ship landed and then ducked low into the brush. He crawled on all fours toward where he heard the sound. Once he spotted spotted movement at the very tips of the grass he knew it wasn't just a random sound. The grass stocks were bending to far, being pushed rather then simply brushed against like any native animal would do.

It was another spy, likely an outsider just like the others he had been sent to watch.

The scout decided to take a risk. As the moving person stopped he moved steadily behind where the paused. He stepped lightly, trying not to disturb the grass. As he approached he silently drew a knife from his belt. Pulling the grass back a bit just enough to see a vague out line of where the other was. The scout saw the vague form of the other person hidden in the grass with their back turned to him.

He took a breath, steadied himself, and then charged. He ran in low and delivered a quick kick to the back of the knee. As the other fell backwards the scout reached his free hand up and clasped it over the persons face to keep them from giving any sound of surprise encase there were others in hearing range. He pulled the person off their feet and began trying to wrestle them to the ground before they could call for help.

Eon
"The game is about to begin, care to be the loser?"

Eon gazed upon the seemingly transparent panels made of liquid glass as it floated around him without much of a course. With a snap of a finger, each of the panels began to show the various happenings in both mortal and immortal realm without hindrance. Everything was being revealed to his eyes in his utmost pleasure. There was nothing grander than to watch the unraveling seams of of all they knew and not. A mischievous smile was upon his lips as he watched the other older gods coming out like clockwork. They were like flies attracted to the scent of filth. It made him very happy to see that all of them would participate in this remarkable game of his. The more the merrier, is it not?

"Come out, come out, my darling little pawns. The prologue is about to end."

Eyes of eerily blow glowed with uncertain deed as he crossed his legs in a sophisticated manner, Eon looked at the panel where it featured the Behemoth. An abomination if he remembered correctly one of its many descriptions. In his own honest opinion, it is such an adorable creature. Why would anyone want to seal or even harm it? People are truly barbaric in such a sense. Oh he had forgotten, it was to his own leisure that is why. After all, life would be more interesting if there is spice added to the sweets. Waving a hand, another panel was placed before him, it was showing the various discussions of his so-called fellow brethren. They were as always doing their own business in the ways that profited them carrying along their whimsical wishes.

With that thought, Eon could hear a specific sound of something being unlocked. This definitely made him have a smile that reaches from ear to ear. The climax would soon be upon all of them. Just a little bit more and this game of his would be everyone's undoing. It would be remarkable to see their genuine reactions to this. After all, they were his entertainment. It is only right for them to deliver him unbridled fun.

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Empress Alphrena-Asiysia's Avatar
"The winds foretell of a raging storm..."

There was something perplexing about the subtle coldness carried by the light breeze. Alphrena had a very rare moment of enjoying a time of peace within the inner gardens of the palace. Her pristine snow white wings were hidden from sight as she made her senses be entwined by the nature around her. She been informed about the devastating eruption of the volcano. It was good to know that everyone on the world below had slowly regained their lives to its normal flow. Her prayers were answered at the very least. Regardless of that, there is this uneasiness blanketing Ashariel. This was something she was certain of.

"My Lady Empress is there something bothering you?", Alphrena directed her face towards the source of the familiar voice of her handmaiden.

"I sense trouble brewing. I fear that the these Lands of ours might be embroiled in it as well."

Calleigh sat beside the noble leader of the Daimones. It is a fact that the Empress is blind but regardless of that, Alphrena had this ability of great intuition and it had never been misplaced. Placing her hand upon the Lady Avatar's, she offered a gentle smile even if it could not be seen.

"Would you want me to send scouts to see if anything is beyond the norm?"

"Yes, please do that Calleigh. Do inform the Schwartz of the findings immediately in my absence if it would be the case." Alphrena stood from her seat as her magnificent white wings stretched and made her way to exit the gardens. It was quite remarkable to see her move without much aid despite her handicap. Calleigh blinked for a moment before comprehending something and uttered a question.

"Your absence, my Lady Empress?" Stopping from her walk to answer the query of her handmaiden, "The Goddess beckons me." As she said that, a butterfly of swirling colors descended upon the Lady Avatar's shoulder.

Realm of Dawn
Riso nodded and silently listened to Ke'yei.
“Goodbye brother.” he said as the God left his realms.

Riso stood in silence in the realm that was now his. He had never been alone before.
But as he heard a familiar voice, Riso's power over happiness took over.

“Father?” Riso grinned as he turned, allowing himself to be as boyish as he appeared.
He ran to Talingue and gave him a hug. “I haven't seen you in so long Father.”

Once Riso broke the embrace he looked at his father with serious eyes. “Raven has decided to leave and find a new people. She has changed in the last few days. She has even made an alliance with Jiraba!” He turned away and sighed. “This is better for us.” he said to himself and he took out his jug of Cuore wine. He drank a swig of it and looked at Talingue. “Would you like some?”

Realm of Dusk
Raven turned to Jiraba, slightly startled by his sudden arrival to her new realm. It was incredibly dark and eerie, but still very beautiful in a way. Dark trees and thorn bushes grew around a throne, where Raven was placing a rose.

She looked at Jiraba in another new form:

“Hello, brother. I was not excepting you.” She gestured around the realm.
“As you can see, it's not done yet.” She pointed to some parts where nothing was there besides dark shadows.

Raven seemed to dance over to a small pool of glowing water, where she could watch her new people.
“They're very good people.” she said. “And very interesting as well. There were not many casters and witches in Cuore, so it's intriguing to watch their rituals.”

The Woods of 5
Lavaca shook as he walked threw the woods with the rest of the Coven followings him.
As the new Avatar, it was Lavaca's responsibility to wake the guardians.

His face was covered in tribal paints of red and black, and his yellow eyes darted back and forth between everything that moved. He was taking deep breaths and his palms were sweaty.

They were there. In front of him, there was a strong wind that blew against his face. He saw the statue of the first guardian, Ventus, Guardian of Winds and Storms. Ventus took the form of a large and muscular man with the head and wings of an eagle. In this stone form, his pose had him kneeling and his head tilted to the ground.

To Lavaca's left, there was a large and deep lake, and in the middle of that lake, the upper body of a stone woman protruded. She was Nyx, the Guardian of the Lake and the Moon. From the waist up, Nyx was a breathtaking woman with long flowing hair, but from the waist down, she had the body of a giant pale blue sea serpent.

To his right, there was a never dieing fire that surrounded the statue of Drakon, the Guardian of Fire and Heat. This guardian was like a normal man, but he had dragon wings instead of arms, and a mouth full of razor teeth.

Behind Lavaca, the was an ancient tree, and hidden inside it was Taurus, the Guardian of Earth in all it's form. Taurus was a giant man, with the head and hind legs of a bull.

He could sense the last guardian, Stella, the Guardian of the Stars Above. Though she had no statue, any one of the Coven know her description from stories. A women gleaming in golden armor, flying through the sky with a golden blade.

Lavaca sighed.
He turned and was handed the feather of an eagle by the Oracle. Next, the head shaman, an old man with dark skin an tribal tattoos, handed him a seashell full of water. Then, the head witch, a women with black and gray hair, handed him a burning candle. Lastly, he took a black rock and a piece of gold our of a leather pouch around his waist.

He placed each of the items down in the shape of 5 pointed star.
“Guardians of the 5, hear my plea. Come, come and join me.” He closed his eyes and heard stone crackling in every direction.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the first four guardians break out of the stone shells and come back to life. He smiled on the inside, but he knew it wasn't over.

Stella hovered down to her fellow guardians and the Coven was in awe.
Lavaca's eyes widen and he quickly got on one knee. “Oh Guardians of the 5, do you accept me as your new avatar?”

They all looked at each other, as if they were communicating silently. Stella stared at the boy for a moment, but then nodded. The Coven cheered as a whole and each one of them lifted a broomstick.

Lavaca was congratulated by each Coven member and they all flew off into the night on their brooms.
(Yeah that's right. Witches on broomsticks. Cliché)

Karpath
As a request from Queen Yahall, Crow and other Covusians scouted many Avuvian citys, making sure that if Cuore's new allies needed assistance, they would be there. Now Crow was ing Karpath, watching in horror as the city slowly began to crumble. “Get more Covusians warriors here. Even bring some Ming and Lakota if you need to. This will not be an easy battle to assist in.”

She sent the fastest flier she could find to get the message to Cuore. Within an hour, a large force of Covusians flew over Karpath, silencing the cursing and fighting inside the cities walls.

They all started at the sky in awe and even the Moonshield soldiers were stunned.
Never had anyone seen so many of this rare species in one place.

Crow observed the enemy below. “Attack!” she screeched and all of the Covusians dived into the crowd, picking up Moonshield warriors and dropping them at great heights, or throwing small blades at them.

The western mountains

Stole dived into a roll to avoid an axe swing. He landed on his knees as another bandit charged him from the front, a hammer held over his head. Before he could bring the blunt weapon down Stole jabbed his sword forward and stabbed the bandit in the shin. The thug lost momentum as he stumbled from the injury. Before the attacker could regain his footing Stole brought his blade in an upward swing, catching the bandit in the chin and splitting his jaw in half.

Stole was already moving again before the thug hit the ground. The bandit with the axe had caught up with him again and it was all the mercenary could do to scramble out of the way of another axe swing. He felt the edge of the blade brush against the back his neck as he returned to his feet. He pivoted in a half circle spin and swung. His blade connected with the axe-mans hand just as he was preparing his own strike. He stumbled back in pain, the mercenaries blade cut off two of his fingers when it hit. Stole lunged and stabbed his blade between the mans ribs. He twisted and pulled his blade out, letting the axe man fall to the ground while he back peddled to gain so breathing room.

Taking stock of the 'battle field' he knew the situation was turning grim. That last bandit was the eleventh or or twelfth enemy he'd downed, but out of the numbers on the refugees side it looked like he was the one most contributing to the kill count. Most of the men of the refugee caravan were already dead or wounded. He could spot that at least half the bandit force was gone, but the defenders were down to only at ten men in fighting condition. The bandits had them outnumber by almost twice their number and the men were only acting as a distraction for the fleeing women and children now. And Stole already had two injuries from the brawl. A gash in his side where a spear had grazed him and a wound on his left shoulder stump where an arrow hit. He thought morbidly how lucky he was that he didn't have that arm to worry about anymore. But even that couldn't distract him from the dire situation. He could only pray as his last hope.

"BULLDUNG! Oy! Genocide! If you're listening war god we could use some help at the moment!"

The mercenary was about to regret that wish.

Thud... thud... thud.... BOOM!

The air blurred and spun around them. The ash and smog whirled around them and Stole felt the heat. If he could call it that. No it wasn't heat, it was an overwhelming felling that pressed down on him. His mind could only interpret it as heart as it felt like something was trying to sear his flesh. He struggled to stand as the weighted heat feeling tried to crush him. A loud unearthly growl echoed over the wind that drowned out all other noise. A it rumbled with a thundering sound that was full of malice and heat.

Stole felt an irrational fear creep into his mind as he looked toward the source of the noise. Toward where his companion had fallen he could see a red and black mass rising. The very ground around it was scorched even with the ash covering it. It stood tall with the shape of a man. It's skin was blackened and and scorched as though it's entire body had been doused in flame. Large bulging red veins scrawled across the surface of it's flesh. Deep carved scars marred the surface of it's body. It's entire body was massive, standing a full head an shoulders above a normal mans height with arms and legs as thick as a mans head. It's chest rouse and feel with a dark rumbling as it breathed.

And it's eyes... they were colorless, pupil-less, and when Stole stared into them, he saw a crushing leave of hate. It's very gaze bore into him, the world around him, and all of that with in it's sight and it saw nothing but that which it wanted to end.

It reared back it's head, opened it's mouth and out of it's throat came an earth shattering BOOM. The ground quaked. The air surged. The ash on the ground and in the air was blown away in the resounding shock wave that emanated from the things throat. The ground was left bare from the blast and Stole, along with several others, was blown back. He struggled to even stand in the onrushing current of air pressure that echoed from the things throat. He Slide back from the force, eventually being pressed against the clifface by the resounding force. He could almost feel himself being crushed by by the wind as the long bellow from the monster continued to escape it's throat.

This wasn't a roar, this wasn't a blast of air, this was a call to the end.

The beast ceased it's howls and Stole felt himself fall to his knees. The Bandits and refugees, clearly distracted by the sudden appearance of the monster, struggled to regain their footing as they looked toward the beast. A bandit that had fallen near where the creature arouse stood shakily to his feet. The thing noticed him, tilting it's head slowly to face him. It moved toward him, each step causing the ground to shake. The bandit held up his sword at it with shaking hands. There was nothing but terror in his eyes as it neared him. He gave a terrified scream as he swung at it when it was in striking range. The beast lashed out before the blade could connect, back handing the bandit while he was in mid swing.

The entire top half of his body exploded from the impact.

Stole could only watch in stunned terror as what was left of the man splattered across the ground and rocks, some of it even hitting his face. In his sleeve he could feel an old charm that Hildar had given him in the past burn with a searing heat. He looked down at it to see it had changed from it's original sandy brown color to a dark black. Stole knew who the creature was. His mind failed to find anyway to deny the horrible truth of what he was witnessing.

It was the beast that appeared at the end of every age. The monster that destroyed entire civilizations. The horrendous creature that had scorched the land and nearly ended the world twice in the ancient past.

The time of walking carnage had come, and he was witnessing it being born right in front of him.

The monster gave another booming roar and charged. It fell into the ranks of both the refugees and the bandits like tidal wave. The ground broke and rocks and body parts were flown into the sky. Stole could hear the screams. They were short and quickly silenced. He barely even saw the swing meant for him. He fell just narrowly avoiding it, but even that didn't leave him unscathed as just the air pressure from proximity to the attack was enough to send the mercenary flying head over heals.

He sailed through the air, spinning and holding his teeth clenched to keep from screaming. He slammed into the ground. He bounce on impact once, twice, and then slammed into the rocks. He felt something in his back break and his head collide with something. His back was paralyzed and his vision slowly started to slip into darkness.

Karpath
"I have only slain those that would take what is not yours. The men on that fleet chose to participate in an act of aggression and I merely brought upon them what they sought to wreak on others. There was no god commanding me. It was my own judgment," Caspian told him, drawing his sword and glaring over at the rival Avatar.

"You, who fight only for conquest known nothing of defending your fellow man," he told him. And with that, Caspian charged, bring down a two-handed strike that would have sliced through a tree trunk upon Allaseus.

*
When the Avuvians caught sight of the winged figures attacking the Mastalkians, the mass of soldiers cheered and the collective of civillians sighed in relief. Captain Phoebus, however, knew how limited the Coruscians could be. Thus, he gave the order for the men to organize and stay on task with herding civillians out of the city as well as aid their allies. He placed his mouth on the horn and called to the mass figures.

"Our primary objective is evacuation! I repeat, our primary motive is evacuation!!! Tell your commanding officer to engage the enemy, but retreat once we do so and regroup at the Dragon ships!"

He smiled slightly. The Mastalkians were going to pay dearly for this.


Ulmo
Ulmo felt his left eye twitch. He had forgotten how.... distant, Mastalki could be from the mortal world. He groaned inwardly and resisted the urge to massage his head. He crossed his arms and asked, "Why don't you look into the mortal world for a second. At the moment, our people's are fighting over a remote colony and our Avatars are battling. If they've decided to make peace, then I will go into your realm and fix your little leak."

Sometimes, Ulmo felt that Mastalki cared more for architecture than the mortals he was supposed to be looking after.

The Temple of Ke'yei

Pallor's mouth dropped open in an almost comical effect. "A dragon!" he exclaimed, surging out of his chair, "I'd never been far enough west to sense one before, that's why it was so strange." The old lich realized that he was standing for once and a horrible pain wracked through his legs, so he sat back down again, calming slightly. "As for this other thing, I sense too little of it at this distance to properly assess it," Pallor continued, "All I can tell is that it certainly isn't a benevolent force, that it's extremely powerful, and that it is..." Pallor paused a moment, as if thinking, before pointing past Na'lee. "That way," he finished, shakily wheeling his chair towards the temple exit. "Come, Iuvenis, Amicus," he called, "We must leave at once!"

Two young men hurried to him, a couple of the few young adults left in the family. One had a large gash on his face where he had narrowly avoided decapitation. Without a word, they lifted Pallor's light, partially rotted body with ease, and carried him up onto a horse. Pallor directed them, ordering them to pack: all they brought was their weapons and some water. They rode off, Amicus and Pallor on one horse, Iuvenis on the other.

The Site of the Behemoth

Soon, using Pallor's sense of where the Behemoth was, they were within thirty meters or so of the clearing. "Shh," warned the old lich, "I sense them now. More shadowkin. Just like the ones from before... yet, there is still something more sinister there..." The two young men tensed. "Iuvenis," he whispered, "Go back. Warn Ke'yei and Na'lee. Hurry." With that, the young horseman rode back through the forest, towards the city of Ke'yei, to wan of the danger.

Mori's various locations.

In the cloudy palace of Talingue, Mori watched the realm's owner leave. "I'm sure you can do great good," the god of death called after Talingue. Mori's bones disintegrated, the copy dispersing to free up more of Mori's mind.

In the realm of Nemea, Mori listened intently. "The story has been explained, yet so much is still a mystery. How dare this man!" he remarked angrily. He was being cheated by a mere mortal! There had been attempts, it was true, to gain immortality by non-divine means, but never had they succeeded! The knowledge of exactly who was cheating him and how overpowered his distaste for the overall evil plot. Besides, the impostors were Nemea's problem. The god of death reached towards the old but now young alchemist, trying to pull him towards him, pull him towards the Death he deserved.

No, it was impossible; the man was protected by the magic of an Elder God, a god stronger than Mori. "I can't even touch him!" he complained, "But I shall... I SHALL bring this man to his destiny! Thank you, Nemea. I wish you and your people all the best." With that, the second clone of Mori disintegrated without a trace.

In the realm of Ke'yei, Mori explained what he had just learned from Nemea. "An old Alchemist in the Dendapim, according to their patron goddess Nemea, is the one who has broken the circle by becoming young again. The seed Grumpsh left, the thing he was banished for, was discovered, and now, it seems, we have this alchemist as well as two others pulling strings in the Dendapim. My new avatar is already in the city, so dealing with this issue shouldn't be a problem." His brother's explanation for Na'lee only made him doubt his decision more. Love. Of course. Ke'yei was the god of passion, and thus it could be expected that he would do something. Mori, despite jokes about "boners" from some of the other gods when he was first created, felt no feeling of love other than a familial love for his fellow gods. If he were like Ke'yei, his love could blind him, and make him do something stupid... like resurrecting his girlfriend.

Mentally, he slapped himself across his bleached white mandible. He really should have thought things through. Still, his people did need a leader. Jiraba's spectres had attacked them, not mere fear-mongering stalkers, but deadly spectres. It seemed that Mori's own brother would be adding to the end of an age, though it was no fault of his own.

Nonya

At first, the city had seemed fine, and The Mora had stayed there willingly. Now, the city seemed hostile, but they were bound there equally by the devastated lands to the north and the sense of belonging with their fellow Morians. They could leave the place, it was true, but the lack of civilization and even edible flora and fauna caused by the volcanic eruption for miles on end seemed to be a worse alternative than staying in Nonya to most of them. Besides, it wasn't so bad. They couldn't walk on the paths? The streets were faster! They couldn't work in the fields? No back-breaking farm work for them! They couldn't interact with people? A lot of them couldn't even speak the same language to begin with, and those that did found it troublesome and difficult compared to the simple Common language.

Praeceptor and his two young blacksmiths continued their work, at least so far, albeit with a pay drop. They also always kept to the back of the shop, save for Unum, who was still delivering. The young Dendapim apprentice had kept his job, despite the three of them improving their Nyarladhotepna, simply because it was bad for business for customers to see any "deadmouths" walking about the store, let alone working at the counter.

Unum ran along the streets before finally coming to the location on his map, though he had delivered enough packages in this particular district that he no longer needed it for most buildings. A middle-aged man answered the door and took a good, hard look at his courier. The man spat at the Morian's feet and shouted, "Tell Almra I won't be ordering anything more from her!" before slamming the door in his face. The man had been a loyal customer, but he hadn't ordered anything since the influx of The Mora. It was obvious by his reaction that he certainly didn't like it.

Unum pounded on the door, shouting, "Order custom, you pay must!" The once-loyal customer threw his door open again and punched the Morian man in the face with a bag full of money, allowing the coins to spill all over the street before slamming his door shut again. He screamed, "Don't you come back here again, you damn deadmouth!" Unum collected the coins back into the bag before going back to the smithy, payment and item in hand.

Praeceptor paused his work to take a look at his young coworker and family-member through Mori. He tapped the swelling eye, Unum naturally shying away. "Are you alright, Unum?" he asked in Common.

"Fine, fine," Unum replied, "Just get back to work before Almra gets madder than she'll be getting already."

He found Almra and explained sourly, "Customer angry, no want, but he pay rest." The young man showed her the item and bag of money. Unum continued, "Say he, 'won't be ordering anything more!'" This was the first time that this had happened so far. Usually, the Dendapims' capitalist nature overpowered their xenophobia in this aspect, but it seemed this particular man was particularly bigoted. Or perhaps just having a bad day. Maybe he'd demand his item tomorrow. Either way, he had turned down a custom item that he had already paid half the price for and used the other half of the payment as a projectile, leaving Unum with a black eye.

The Graveyard of Nonya

Yorina sat just outside the graveyard's fence, beneath a shady tree. It was getting late, she should get back home soon. She sometimes came here, though most Morians did not; it seemed to especially unsettle the Dendapim for them to go anywhere near the graveyard, and circles there were absolutely out of the question. Still, she came here sometimes to feel closer to Mori, as if being his avatar were not enough. It was here that she had studied the book over the months, learning and understanding more and more of it. Still, a lot of it was trial and error, and she had only figured out a handful of spells.

The lich repeated a spell for the hundredth time today. It was long and had many difficult combinations of syllables, and the slightest mispronunciation, she had found out, ruined it. Finally, something happened as she finished reading in the Language of Death with its strange clicks and whistles. Her hand glowed black for a minute before a thin beam shot out of her hand, passing straight into her head, through the trunk of the tree behind her, and into the sky before dissipating among the dark clouds.

The avatar of Mori felt her cold, dead head. Bad idea to have my hands pointed towards just anything, she realized. Still, that spell had seemed to revitalize her. She didn't feel alive, on the contrary, she felt just as dead as usual, but it was as if her unlife was powered. Her head twisted around to look at the tree behind her. No trace. She recited the spell again, and nothing happened. Another mispronunciation. She knew two languages, for the sake of the gods! Yet she still couldn't pronounce this one.

Yorina continued practicing, and left her arms rest on her crossed legs. After six more tries, she succeeded, and her hands glowed black once again. Remembering the last success, she pointed her arms straight away from her and vaguely downward. The black beam shot out of her right hand, the dominant one, and passed through a tombstone on the other end of the graveyard. A low moan came from the ground, followed by the pounding of fists on wood. The lich panicked, then remembered to make two long whistles then a short one. A basic, general disspell. Sort of like the death magic equivalent of 9-1-1: "My magic is causing danger! Quick, send in the anti-magic police!"

The noise stopped for a moment, then continued. The almost mindless zombie beneath the ground did not want to let go of its unlife so easily. Yorina chanted the disspell a dozen more times, each time it temporarily silencing the noise. Fourteenth time was the charm, and the noise didn't come back. Finally, the lich exhaled, albeit unnecessarily, since she didn't need to breathe. Standing, she walked back home.

A few minutes passed, and a quiet moan could be heard in the graveyard once again. The corpse started pounding at its wooden box again, its decomposed muscles remnants of what they once were, barely making enough noise to be heard from above ground, let alone break through.

An open, immortal desert

Afzal was frozen in place, her sandy body in an expression of contemplation sitting upon her stone throne. So much going on. She felt those earthquakes. She felt the lava leave the deep earth, her baby, and erupt onto the strange, lively surface. She felt the Behemoth leave its home deep underground along with it. She felt millions of soldiers' bodies buried beneath her skin, beneath the earth. She even felt the minor tremors that Walking Carnage had caused, and recognized them from the other times he had come. The end of an age was coming. And with it, a chance to expand her territory.

The sand in front of her formed into an accurate geological map of Ashariel. Yes. The gods restricted her to her desert. The whole continent belonged to her! She had made it! But perhaps the Life of the Desert could expand with the gods distracted by war and chaos. Through that chaos she would bring order! She quickly contacted her avatar, explaining that the loyal Jeod must begin conquering.

Just West of the West Mountains

A group of raiders, about two dozen, all on horseback, were stopped. They were all masked in white to protect their skin and their identity. One man dismounted to place what seemed to be a large stone on the sand. "Miralld," the man asked the rock, "We're so close to the mountains. Surely water is nearby?"

A telekinetic voice echoed through the heads of everyone present, Silence, human! I felt something in the distance.

"We're all out of water, is it water?" another man on horseback asked excitedly.

The rock, Miralld, let loose a telekinetic growl. Suddenly, the complaining man fell of the horse and started slapping himself all over, screaming. "Scorpions! Scorpions!" he cried, "Help, help! They're stinging me! Get them off, get them off!" A horrible shriek was let loose before Miralld allowed the illusion to pass. The man stopped fumbling on the ground and quietly stood back up, embarrassed.

Now, Miralld continued, I felt something! Vibrations, like the earthquakes from before, but coming from the north. They were different, too, not from below the earth, but from something above it! A message from Afzal, Miralld's god, warned it that it was indeed Walking Carnage. She explained to her avatar her plan. The rock would have smiled if it had a mouth. We must go north at once, but not meet it! We must follow it, or let it pass us. The devastated lands shall be conquered in the name of Afzal! Also, there's a river to the north!

The raiders had no idea what their strange Jeod was talking about, but at the mention of conquering lands and, more importantly, fresh water, they were happy to put up with Meralld's antics. Before being put back in its leather carrying pouch, the Jeod avatar sent off vibrations through the desert. It was a message to all other Jeoda within several miles: Head east, for Afzal sends us in her name to conquer the lands of the heathens! For the desert! And hundreds of Jeods, thousands of Raiders, began their long trek east.

Asiysia-Alphrena
"If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies...."

---

Ceasare-Schwartz of Worldly Affairs
'There is always a blank page to write one's story."

---

Kyohei-Captain of Aero Knights
"We are the eyes of the skies."

ALLASEUS, KARPATH

When the sword was brought down, Allaseus began moving as to bring up his staff for parrying the blow. He soon understood, that he hadn't brought his staff with him.
Quickly he side-stepped, only a moment before the sword came rushing down.Allaseus began stepping backwards, while making the earth and clay underneath him rise, creating a brown, yet ornamented, staircase. As he passed from one part to the other, the part he just left began smoldering.

"Don't let yourself be decieved by your own righteousness Caspian! The Avuvians may be quite peaceful as a whole, but when you take out the individual parts of yor empire, then you'll find all the bloodshed and corrpution you could wish for!" Allaseus yelled from his pedestal. "Also, young one, I have never raised my weapons against those who did not deserve it! I can't fight, or kill you! That would be against the taboo of avatars fighting. And I can't fight Ulmo, for I am a mere mortal, even though my body is eternal. So I must retaliate against those who stand Ulmo near. And yet, you say that you killed Moonshield elves, out of your OWN judgement!" Allaseus had to hold a break, as if not to go into a bout of rage against the young man.
"Who gives you the power to judge who lives and dies!? That power belongs only to the gods! Killing men, should never be what you aim to do!" Allaseus yelled, but so, he realized that he had killed some of those who stood on the walls. This meeting was doomed to be violent.


MASTALKI

Mastalki let out a sigh. "Surely brother, but you'll be helping me stop the rain afterwards." Mastalki said, as a marble fountain rose from the ground, so that Mastalki could look down into it's waters.
Before him, lay the cities of the Moonshield empire, and for a small moment, Mastalki felt a hand of pride clutch around his heart. But then the picture changed to the island of Karpath. Thick collumns of acrid smoke rose from burning houses at least those houses that hadn't fallen over. The walls had collapsed into themselves, leaving large piles of rubble where the walls had been. People screamed and fled, and the streets were running with blood.
Mastalki could feel all colour leave his face, as he sought for words to describe his feelings. "H-how long h-have they done t-this!?" He stuttered out in bewilderment.
"What is going on with them!? I - I - I ... They're so violent! So hateful!" Mastalki brought both his hands up to his head, holding it tight, as if to keep focused.
"What about the new leader!? Isn't he going to do anything?" Mastalki asked Ulmo, flustered at what he'd just seen.

There was a moment of silence, as Mastalki realized that he'd been too withdrawn and too far away for his people to know him anymore. With a single thought, the reservoir changed to show the senate. How the new dictator had seated himself over all others. The little balding man, who'd once been a fine and trustworthy person. Now he just looked like a mixture of rat, snake and elf. Mastalki was disgusted by him.

"Now I see. Now I see how my people have withered and died in my absence and left grotesque attrocities in it's wake!" Mastalki said, looking down at the floor in shame.
"Such are my people now, from what they once were, happy and care-free. Now they're corrupt and foul-minded!"
Mastalki felt another wave of grief.
"Bother mine. I know not what to do!" Mastalki said, looking at the much older Ulmo for at least some guidiance.

Suhpyt - The Behemoth Crash Site

The man had obviously not been in contact with Shadowkin before, for he would have known that a Shadowkin's head was 'V' shaped and their mouth was on the underside. He managed to wrestle it to the ground however, Shadowkin were never very robust, but he did so emitting a high pitched hiss that even a trained hunter's ears would not have detected.

Suhpyt strolled over, less concerned at the prospect of losing a single Spectre than himself.

"What have we here? A human. Muscular too. Probably some kind of warrior people. Genocide maybe. No matter." He mused. He looked down on them, Scout and Spectre. He gave a low satisfied hiss, to which the Spectre on the ground responded to by thrusting his elbow blade into his attacker's midriff. Suhpyt leant over the Scout.

"See, the only way to fight a Shadowkin, is to kill it before it has time to fight back." Suhpyt raised his arm, displaying his own elbow blade. "This is a very useful tool, it's a growth of solid shadow that extends out in the opposite direction to the arm, similar to the knee blades." He tapped the aforementioned knee blade with a clawed finger. "Makes it very hard to grapple us with all these spikes. Then again, would a normal person really want to grapple this?" He said, gesturing to himself. "Regardless. Now you must die, for attacking one of our brethren is punishable in our law by death."

He raised a claw and readied himself to strike at the Scout's throat.

Jiraba - The Realm of Dusk

“Sometimes darkness needs no decoration.” Jiraba mused, “I am impressed, it is much more fitting you have your own realm, it is far better than that shared one you had.”

Jiraba followed Raven over to the water’s edge.
“Indeed it is.” He agreed, glancing in at her people. He leant on his staff and looked off into the distance.

“A force has returned.” He began, but then stopped, changed his mind and started again. “I released the Behemoth. What I tell you I hope shall remain in this realm, for your ears only, understand?” He looked back at Raven before continuing. “The first time the Behemoth was released, many thousands of years ago, back before most Gods were born. It was designed to be a pet for me, like a guard dog. A Demi-God of sorts. But it grew beyond me, too strong and too dangerous. I lost control over it. I tricked it into sealing itself away inside the new planet being formed, the one we know today as Ashariel.” He took a deep breath at this point, “The second time it was released was by accident. Walking Carnage was wandering around destroying everything and in doing so, the Behemoth escaped. I believe they had a fight with no victor and no loser.” He stopped here and locked Raven’s gaze with his own, there was fear in Jiraba’s eyes, a fear that should be impossible.

“What I tell you next is what must never be spoken of until I say otherwise. I was not the one who sealed the Behemoth into the volcano. Neither was Walking Carnage or Genocide. No God of our realm sealed it away. It was Fedawaeyas. He returned for one day only to stop the endless fight, and since he could not control Walking Carnage, he sealed away the Behemoth. He told me that if I ever released it again, he would be back and this time he would not stop it.”

“So now this is what I ask of you. If the time comes for the Gods and Goddesses to pick sides, I ask that you would join me.”

He stopped here, knowing it would be a lot to take in. After a long pause he ended with;

“I have felt great amounts of fear building in the West. I have had reports from my long distance Scouts of strange goings on in the peoples of Genocide. I think it is safe to say that with everything going on down on the mortal realm, Walking Carnage is back, and I dread the moment he meets the Behemoth.”

The Behemoth - The Behemoth Crash Site

Damned infernal noise! Silence! They dare to end my slumber!

The Behemoth rolled over and several dark tendrils lashed out, gripping the land around him and hoisting the main body off the ground in an attempt to distance itself with the noise.

Vyrykon - Deep Underground

"So that fool Suhpyt went against our wishes. He will no doubt die again." Hissed Phantomb.
"Let him, he's used to it. Maybe Jiraba will hold onto his essence this time. It's only going to waste down here." Said Liezart.
"No," Vryrkon interupted. "Jiraba needs as many of the 'kin as he can get hold of. Inform the Scouts, all Shadowkin of the world are to meet here in the caverns."

An unknown realm

How much time had passed? She could not tell for time had no meaning in this place. In the twisting maelstrom of energy and matter, where form was never constant, and shapes and objects were jostled about and warped, what reason could on care for a changing in time. For this place held no clear future, and the past was but a strange mystery. Structure, order, events, places, people, things. They were all temporary things, bound to change with or without notice, and never would two be the same.

It was a comfort to her to dwell in this place. No rules, no bonds, no responsibilities or duties. This realm was without the term 'master' or 'servant'. No you or me, them or us, there or here. Everything just was. And everything was free to be as it was.

Still though, she was curious as to what happened in that place. That place was the only know place to her. She had visited it once and was disgusted by what she had seen. Abuse, power over the small, forced obedience, unwilling and unknowing slavery, and imprisonment.

She had been so repulsed by the sight of it that she reached out to touch the life of one who thought he had lost everything, and she awakened within him the power to defy his slavery. He struck against one of the servants of the oppressors. It was a furious struggle that shocked the tyrants that held sway over that place. She was content with her intervention and retreated back into the shifting streams unnoticed.

It had been a long time ago when she had visited that place, and she wondered if it had changed at all since the last time she visited. Had the tyrants learned learned they're lesson? Were the small ones freed from they're unknown slavery?

She could only wonder for so long before she finally decided to look and see for herself. And when she looked, she became enraged. Nothing had changed! Everything and everyone in that place was still bound to the mechanisms of another. Like pieces on a boardgames they were being played like pawns in a huge deranged game thought up by a madman.

For the first time in a long time she reached back out into that place, looking for a way to disrupt the plans of the tyrants once again. She found it in the life of a dying man. He rested in the falling ash near a strewn field of body parts. There were others near him as well, but there was one nearby that would bring their end the same as it had left the man to reach his. She touched his broken body and began to knit flesh and bone back the way it had been. She wasn't accustomed to fixing things, mostly things were meant to break in her place of dwelling. The repairs to his body were shoddy but enough to allow him to hold onto his life. She smiled at the sight of him coughing as air reached back into his lungs. The man was supposed to die, but she had prevented it to undermined the tyrants. His actions and knowledge that he would reveal would shake the course of events ever so slightly.

However she knew that would be enough. The last time she had only made a single change and left the place to be re-subjugated by the tyrants. So she would have to take a more active role this time to prevent that.

For now she would retreat, and plan. And when she would return she would over throw the tyrants so the small ones could be free once more...

...Even if she had to destroy that place to do it.

_______

The southern edge of the western mountains

Stole coughed and wheezed. He felt like he had been in the middle of a dwarf and orc bar fight. His entire body throbbed with pain, and it took a herculean effort just to roll over on his side. His vision was blurry as he regained consciousness. He Struggled to remember what happened. He had met up with a refugee caravan moving north from the the volcano, then they were attacked by bandits, and then... something hit him... hard.

He shifted his head slowly to see where he was. Then he saw the mangled and torn corpses. He wasn't sure if it was his own exposure to blood shed in the past or if he was just to numb for it at the moment, but for some reason he just seemed to stare at the bloody mess with disinterest.

"Now how did that get there...?" He whispered. Lets see... I met some guy named Brackett. We talked.... then I think we had a fight.... then I got in a brawl with these other guys.... then.... then this big ugly guy showed up... then it got loud.... WAIT. His eyes widened as the memory came rushing back to him.

The beast! It was there! It tore a guy to pieces with one swing! It completely annihilated the bandits and what refugees were left! Then it nearly killed him just by taking a swat at his general direction!

"What the?!"

Stole Shifted his head back over to see another person was there. Still alive? No they came her after the beast wiped them all out. Well, almost all of us. He thought morbidly.

Then the ground shook. Was it still nearby? Well, crap. If that thing decided to turn around and come back they were pretty much dead at this point. The thing wasn't something you walked way from. His own apparent survival not included. Still, at least this other guy might be able too- was he clenching his fist? Was the guy actually planning too... No. He had to get out of here. He had to warn somebody. Hell he had to warn everybody. If that thing started walking in on somebodies territory unnoticed then a lot of people were going to die.

Stole pushed himself over with what strength he had left and reached out grabbed the man by the ankle. "The *cough* the hell you doing here... You need *cough* *cough* get out of here..." Stole could feel some blood coming out of his mouth. But he kept talking, hoping to say something before he keeled over. "That thing is *cough* still here. Get out of here... warn somebody *cough*... before it comes *cough* back."

A Clean, Dark Place
The Void

Grumpsh nodded. "I've seen the young gods at their play. Seems they never do learn." His tone was his usual genteel. Grumpsh gradually let his form dissociate. He needed the silence, the emptiness. He needed to feel nothing again. He should have come straight here. Dealing with Nemea, with the mortals, with his Sorrow, had left his mind cluttered. He needed to just drift.

And so it was that Grumpsh drifted, trying to banish the dark secrets he was forced to bear. It was torturous. It was always worst when the secrets were ready to break the surface. He could hide them away when they were young, long from ever being told... truly secret. Then they grew... they grew and grew until they escaped him, some calmly, others fighting.

For Grumpsh, every secret would be childbirth to a human. That was his Sorrow. The knowing. The unbearable knowing. Wrestling with the what was known only to him before it blossomed

The March of Civilization
The Granary, Southwest Gate of Nonya

The western half of the peninsula was evacuating, pouring into Dalin and Nonya, the only two cities truly left. The farms were being claimed by the High Hall, as it consisted of only Landowners, and the floating half of Nonya was now being considered a legitimate space saver. The Dendapim had become paranoid of living outside of city walls. With the influx of labor, the richest Dendapim were building Chateaus in the remaining fieldlands, microcosms meant to house themselves, a small community. The Propagandists suggested it, to free up room for people in Nonya.

Meanwhile, amidst the streams of westerners, guards were leading new lines of people into Nonya. Hunched people, many of them covered with rags.

They were dwarves. A strong race led now in chains.

It had been a stroke of brilliance by the Avatar. Galatzella had been working hard to establish a relationship with dwarves. Enough dwarves had been living, constructing an "embassy" that the otherwise reclusive dwarves sent a battalion to find their lost friends, and to help the Dendapim.

The Guard tending to Galatzella requested more and more help, making lofty promises. Amidst the inconceivable gloom of the blackened ruins the guard were ordered to add a poison to the mead they gave the dwarves. It had often been said that no human army had ever defeated a dwarven one. The Dendapim had been able to capture a small one drugged in their camps. The guards were at first disgusted, as there were families cleaved by this disaster, and they were dealing in espionage.

Then it was revealed. It was the Dwarves who destroyed the city. They were the only ones capable of tunneling beneath the city. By unspeakable means they took down the city as a first strike. In doing so they could claim the Dendapim mountains for themselves, perhaps enslave the Dendapim to work the fields. The Dwarves were to be looted, captured, and drugged before being separated into manageable parties and sent to the palaces of Large Landowners in the lower valleys. There they would be beaten into submission, punished for their crimes. They would be strong slave stock.

Now some Dwarves were being brought into the Granary, where they would tend to food supplies. They were never kept in groups larger than five or six, for fear they might rebel. They refused to work their wonders of metallurgy even under the worst beatings. In fact, their stubbornness was proving unconquerable. Ayden had expected them to be far more manageable. The cruelty they had to be treated with was hardly supportable now.

The consensus amongst the Far Guard was that they had captured all of the dwarves sent. Their axes were superb and their armor unfailingly strong. They had not found anything related to musketry or black powder. They would now have to deal with any more dwarves sent...

However, a new rumor was circulating. The dwarves had tunneled beneath the city... but in order to cause so much destruction they needed something dark and powerful. It was becoming obvious that they had made some sort of wicked deal. The Propagandists were now beginning their new campaign. The new rumor was that the dwarves had bargained with death, through the Mora. Now it seemed a great divine conspiracy was against the Dendapim.

The gossip was passing richly along the marketplaces above the streets of Nonya from wall to rock to sea.
"The gods are jealous of us..."
"The deadmouths are poisoning the water..."
"The half-breeds are trying to pollute us..."
"The world is ending..."

"No Good Deed"
Nemea's Realm

The goddess was at the precipice. This was the turn of an age. She was a lesser deity, a trivial one. Once she was nothing but Gossip, but carefully she had gathered more and more titles. She had sown her ideals in the people below. She had done what she could to gain power. Still the other deities felt she was weak and hot headed.

It was Grumpsh's fault. All of this. He was too caught up in poetry and left his mark on the world. Not some eldritch abomination, not some ancient curse, but a flower that never failed to blossom. Unknowingly, in an act of self-loathing charity he had doomed whole civilizations.

Nemea looked into the fires. She looked into the earth and the sea and the sky and the abyss.

This would end. It was the end of an age. The mountains would turn to valleys and the seas would boil and gods would fall. Indiscriminately the world would end, because of gods like Grumpsh and their inability to stay out of the world, because of weakness. She would stop this cycle. It was up to Nemea to make sure that even as the world comes crashing in on itself, the fire of inspiration and ambition never fades. She would usurp whatever god was too weak for their position now. The end of this age was the beginning of the last age, which would have no end.

The last permutations of the imperfect earth would be driven away and a perfect world would begin.

"A Good Doctor, A Forgiving Priest, and a Clever Accountant"
Nonya

Madame Ursa was in her room at the brothel, having just left her students at their home. They were learning well, some of them were quite brilliant. The slow ones were obviously working. They had help. It was... strange, to Ursa, how together they were. They spoke of their uncles as they might their fathers. There was a closeness unheard of to a Dendapim. The beautiful, willowy woman sipped some of the tea broth set out for her. Saffron and , it was a gift from some of the richer alchemists... it was common to give a favored prostitute a gift... but... they weren't gifts, they were investments...

This tea was supposed to grant youth, this was merely a sign that she was doing good work and should sustain herself as long as possible... Her students would often ask if they could get gifts for their parents, and Ursa had denied them on principle. There was no reason to get them a gift.

Perhaps she was just tired, but she had heard the rumors. She wanted to help them, as best she could.

Of course, her thoughts flew up, unaware of what happened just outside the Dendapim district.

A small battalion of Near Guard had been assigned to apprehend the eminent leader of the Death-worshipers, one called Yorina. Some allegations were made that she was a hypnotized Dendapim, however, she was also considered valuable enough to warrant a small battalion to speak to her, preferably cordially, and invite her to the Avatar's Tower above the river Apt.

They approached the gates of the Mora's apartments and called out for Yorina. Though fully armed, they kept themselves parted, as though a royal procession was approaching.

site of the behemoth

"What have we here? A human. Muscular too. Probably some kind of warrior people. Genocide maybe. No matter." The scout gave a startled glace behind him. How!? He thought he caught the trespasser without a sound. Then the standing.. thing (For he had never seen one of the shadowkin before), let out a low hiss. The one he had pined to the ground stabbed him in the side. He gave a grunt of pain and rolled off.

The standing one continued to talk. "See, the only way to fight a Shadowkin, is to kill it before it has time to fight back." It raised it's arm to display a shape blade on its elbow. "This is a very useful tool, it's a growth of solid shadow that extends out in the opposite direction to the arm, similar to the knee blades. Makes it very hard to grapple us with all these spikes. Then again, would a normal person really want to grapple this?"

"Hegato Raki" He spat, cursing at the 'shadowkin' in his native tongue. He watched steadily as it raised a claw to striking position.

"Regardless. Now you must die, for attacking one of our brethren is punishable in our law by death." Before the claw came down the scout moved. White tattoos that covered his body suddenly turned red. The pain from his stab wound vanished and he felt a sudden surge of strength in his body. he pushed himself up and rolled to the side, flipping onto all fours. He stayed low, his stance like that of a predatory animal. Though while not at the rank of cur-nak-kul, the hutoo magic inscribed on his body was enough to make him a decent threat.

He switched the grip he had on the knife and threw it at the shadowkin. Not bothering to see if it connected or not, he dove back into the brush. He gave a high pitched yell of "EY YEE YEE YEE EY", a war cry, as he weaved back and forth between the grass.

Kyohei-Captain of Aero Knights
"What matters in the end is the deed..."

Your sister did what?
The Realm of Dawn

Talingue allowed himself to smile as Riso turned to him. The embrace came quickly and Talingue accepted it, holding onto his son for the brief moment. He smelled like the crisp morning air, perhaps just after a late night rain shower.

"I am sorry Riso, I was... delayed, but I am here now, tell me of your days, and what about your sister? Where is she?" The hug was broken and Riso looked at his father, seriousness reflected in his eyes.

“Raven has decided to leave and find a new people. She has changed in the last few days. She has even made an alliance with Jiraba!” He turned away and sighed. “This is better for us.” he said to himself and he took out his jug of Cuore wine. He drank a swig of it and looked at Talingue. “Would you like some?” Talingue frowned at the news and shook is head. He waved a dismissive hand to the drink and turned away from Riso.

"I suppose it is only natural, Raven was always darker in her being. Jiraba would seem more appealing to her in the form of an ally." He looked back to Riso. "None the less I do not care for this turn of events. Jiraba is not to be trusted, he never was. It is a foolish thing she has done." Talingue came forward and placed his hands upon Riso's shoulders. "Where is she, where is your sister?"

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The site of the behemoth

Tameron, despite being an avatar, fairly wigged out when the behemoth began to move.

"Time to go!" He shouted and took off back to the ship. The other avians watched him in bewilderment.

"But what do we do about this.... thing!?" One shouted Tameron looked over his shoulder as he was mounting the airship.

"We'll watch it from the air! Get on board!" He looked to the other soldiers then. "You can come too just get on!" In a rush the avians climbed aboard and the ship began to whir as the crystals heated up to take flight. One of the Avians looking over the bow pointed to some brush a ways out.

"Hey," he shouted, "there's people over there!" Tameron looked out to see two dark personages and a third dive into the brush.

Caspian
"Then it would seem that we have both committed the same crime," Caspian replied, managing to regain some of his calm before sheathing his sword. Inwardly, he was shamed for breaking the taboo the forbade Avatars from engaging in combat. He looked at Allaseus with a look of sudden understanding.

"So this has to do with your grudge against Ulmo, for your parents' deaths. It is a terrible thing, isn't it, when imperfect beings such as us have the power to bring about what we perceive as justice. But is mass slaughter justice? When I sailed upon this coast, I saw a fleet of ships filled with men who would I knew would murder, destroy, and rape, so I brought my own justice upon them. And in revenge, you brought down the buildings of the homes of those I sought to save. Despite the centuries, we're still hot-headed young men, aren't we?"

It might have been surprising for Caspian's mood to change so quickly, but, as he saw his own feelings reflected upon his peer, they dissipated like a storm at sea.

"So, I suppose we have a choice. We will fight a long war or we will not. And if our peoples do, we will likely be the only ones living to see the conclusion."

Ulmo
Annoyance gave way to pity as the younger god asked the sea god what should be done. Truly, Mastalki did not understand the darkness of the human heart, but it was no failing. Mastalki was content to create wonders and had no greed or pride or extreme anger in him. Ulmo smiled slightly.

"This is why we have Avatars, brother. They can change the currents of the world whereas we, for all our power, cannot. I propose we stop time here and bring our Avatars here. I may be able to redress a wrong I have done to young Allaseus in my pride and anger."

He smiled slightly. Truly, here, in the realm of Asiysia, better judgment and humility prevailed. He wished he could visit her more often, but Fate had decreed that he would be unable. Ulmo clenched his fist. He hated the smirk Fedawaeyas gave him so long ago when he shared that information with him before the end of the previous age.

Thalassa
Councilor Andromeda had a small frown upon her face as she sorted through her paperwork. The whole Confederation was preparing for a long drawn-out war with the Moonshield Republic and Sirvian had been particularity smug lately, the old war hawk. Because of this war and that trouble the Dendapim had with the plagues and the volcano erupting, trade had already begun to slow. The Avuvian city-states that littered the coasts of their territory were secure, but Councilors were arguing about which colony under which city's sponsorship should be reinforced and which could afford not to. This, of course, led to no small amount of headaches on her part as Caspian appointed her to take his place as the temporary head of the High Council, which, much to her satisfaction, lessened the smirk on Sirvian's face. As she began to look over the requests of Thermasca for more lumber distributed to their shipyards, she heard a tapping on her window.

"Now, what?" she asked, opening the window and finding a note in a dialect she did not recognize on it. She called for a servant to bring it to the Ambassadors' Wing of the Citadel for translation. An hour later, just as she was finishing her paperwork, an out-of-breath messenger would come in yelling about an abomination in the West.

Stole

"Just hold on. You'll be fine."

Stole's Vision blurred in an out several times, and he could guess that he lost consciousness more then once. He briefly remembered a feeling of weightlessness. It felt like he had been floating... or maybe dangling. Then he blacked out again. When he regained consciousness the second time he could here voices. Multiple ones. Though out of the group he could vaguely make out a commanding tone and something about messenger birds. Then he blanked out again. When the mercenary woke up the third time he could hear a little clearer and he heard a voice directed at him. This one more feminine.

"You are truly fortunate..."

His eyes cracked open when he felt a hand press lightly against his head. The first thing he saw when his vision cleared was a woman smiling lightly at him. He was pretty sure it was mostly the blood loss and the head trauma talking at the time but he couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked at the moment.

"Heh... I must be.." He chuckled softly. He shifted slightly and felt an fresh wave of pain go through his spine. He grimaced at the feeling. But it told him what he needed to know. His whole body hurt, which meant it was more or less in one piece. A quick twitch of his fingers and toes and... yep his all three of his limbs were there.

"... Heck... I didn't even loose an arm this time. Guess Mori isn't writing my name down just yet."

______

A little further north

It smelled the air. The little flying men that it had smelt nearby had left. No matter, they were only a small number of prey. It would let them go... for now.

The great beast turned it's head to look north. It sniffed the wind, and over it's own scent of rotting flesh and burnt ash it could smell something else. Blood like fire, muscle like stone. it cold smell the flying fire lizards over a few mountain passes. It let out a growl, loud and reverberating through the air, and set north. Each step sent small vibrations through the soil and rock, and the ground became burnt and rotting in its passing. It's course would take it along the length of the western mountain range, toward the dragon dens.

It would feast on lizard flesh by the next morn.

Kyohei & Haya-Aero Knights
"When two worlds collide, sometimes it is..."

Suhpyt - The Behemoth Crash Site

The human stood, fuelled by some kind of magic. As Suhpyt straightened himself out a knife came flying towards him. Making subtle adjustments with his body he made it appear as if the knife phased through him. No ranged weapon was fast enough to strike an aware Shadowkin, it would take no less than a lightning bolt to be able to strike the almost god-like reflexes. If the Scout had really wanted to do some damage before escaping he would have been better off stabbing one of them, where subtle adjustments would be too slow.

As the Scout ran off into the foliage, Suhpyt let out a contented hiss.
“That’s it. Run away. It is far more interesting to hunt than to simply smash you where you lay.” He signalled for the Spectre on the floor to get five others and leave the rest to watch over the Behemoth.
“What if the Behemoth wakes before your return?”
“I can assure you. This will not take long.” Suhpyt replied and with that, he and five other Spectres gave chase.

It was not hard to stay on his trail, despite being obviously well trained, any creature running away will always leave signs. A broken twig, damaged vegetation, etc. They toyed with the Scout, deliberately not putting enough effort into the chase to catch him but enough to keep up with him at a distance of about ten yards.

“Stop running now and we’ll only pull your eyeballs out and cut your tongue off. How does that sound?” Suhpyt shouted out to him.

Fedawaeyas - The Void

He nodded at Grumpsh as he faded and left him to his own devices.

Besides, he had some unfinished business. Turning back to the half created Avatar he stared hard at it. It was a bizarre shape. He let out a sigh. He was never a creator as such, that’s why Grumpsh got all the exciting stuff. He tried again, moulding the dust into a new shape. After a few minutes he realised that the shape was the same.
“I should have seen this coming.” He chuckled to himself. Then there was the matter of bringing it to life. He knew that he could not give it life like Asiysia could. So he did what he had taught Jiraba, and how he created Jiraba too. Taking a piece of his essence, he placed it inside the Avatar. It jiggled into life, becoming a part of Fedawaeyas. A hand materialised and picked up the Avatar.
“Hello there.”
“Mighty Lord of Fate, I am at your disposal.” Shouted the Avatar.
“I shall name you… Qor.”

The Behemoth - The Behemoth Crash Site

They do not cease! I will have my slumber!

Small creatures, two foot high, like mini-Shadowkin poured forth from the hulk of the Behemoth, attacking all around it.

With Stole

"It would appear your time is not yet up, my friend. It is good to see you are going to be fine." Stole glanced at the other man and for the first time noticed the wings on both his and the woman's backs. He had never met a Daimone before. The Empire of Aile-Cielo was one of the few places in the world that the one armed mercenary had never visited, and it's citizens rarely made interacted with the mainland. He treated it as a mild curiosity however. He'd met and talked with a number of members of the different races that other humans haven't, even the shadowkin and the orcs. Even if those meetings didn't always turn out peaceful at the end.

"I am Kyohei Treant by the way and this lovely lady who patched you up is..." Kyohei trailed of as the blue haired woman returned. "Haya Cameron. Anyway, it is about time to change your bandages and to take your medicine to aid in your healing." She and Kyohei helped Stole up to a sitting position and Haya began unwrapping his bandages.

"Well... I suppose I owe you a debt... Miss Cameron." He grimaced slightly as he was seated, but he was used to pains like these. The bandages came off to reveal some angry scars. Some were old ones from old battles, but a few larger, fresher, wounds were printed into his back. Stole was a rather lean and muscular man and would have been considered handsome... if not for the ugly stump on his left shoulder where his arm used to be. He gave it an unhappy glance before focusing back on the others.

"I was really surprised when the Captain brought you to me. You were much like a corpse." To the the truth not even Stole knew how he was alive. He thought for sure that he felt his spine break.

"It was a massacre there. What exactly happened and this thing?" Kyohei asked him. Stole let out a shaky breath to relax some of the tension in his body.

"I was traveling with a refugee caravan. We were headed toward an abandoned..." He paused when he felt another pain flare up. "Abandoned dwarf tunnel to wait out the ash fall when *cough*...when we were surrounded by a group of bandits. I.... I tried to talk our way out of it... and it didn't go over with the bandit boss too well....." Stole's eyes started to feel heavy and his vision started to blur again. He realized he was starting to lose consciousness again and shook his head to stay awake. "So the bandit's fell on us and the fight broke out... *cough* *cough* that's *cough* t-that's when all hell broke loose..."

Mora Town, Nonya, The Dendapim

Yorina was playing with dead things again. As a lich, she was expected to rest with the elders during the day, to live another childhood in leisure while the young people supported her. Her adoptive family insisted on it. It felt so strange. Her Dendapim heritage meant that she still valued hard work, albeit a personal goal rather than an expectation for everyone else. She had not been quite old enough to be called an elder before her death, and always did her part in supporting the family. Now, she had all the free time in the world. Besides which, she couldn't get a job if she tried. The only thing worse than a deadmouth was a Dendapim-deadmouth, a traitor.

Now, she sat on the floor in one of the apartments' communal areas with a group of two dozen or so fellow liches in various states of decay. The smell was atrocious. Some were immobile, propped up so that they could see into the center where the action was going on. Recently, her fellow liches had requested to watch her do her magic, and she didn't deny them the privilege. She tried to ignore the stares of dozens of pale, rotting people circled around her. They gave her plenty of space to work, but it was still disconcerting. It reminded her of what will one day happen to her, and how flippant Mori was when it came to avatars. The avatar could start rotting next week for all she knew. So Yorina focused on the black book of Mori resting on the ground before her. In the center of the floor laid a dead rat. After several minutes of concentrated incantations, the rat buzzed to life, its head still slumped to the ground as an indication of the broken neck that had killed it. It struggled pitifully.

Quickly, she began chanting another incantation, trying to spit it out before the rodent's unlife completely dispersed. At the last second, someone screamed her name, and she stumbled over a few syllables. The rat's head twisted 360 degrees before popping off. Yorina groaned angrily, grabbed up her book, and stormed out, flanked by a few of the more able-bodied liches. Stopping as soon as she left the building, she stood with her mouth agape for a moment. A guard. Fully armed. That probably wasn't good. Recently, the dwarves had been enslaved, the propagandists spitting out what Yorina knew were probably lies. She didn't trust the Dendapim government, considering that they were also spreading rumors about her own people. Maybe the guard had come to enslave them.

She had to be strong. Yorina called back, "I am Yorina Mortis, what can I do you for?" The guards invited her to the palace. She knew better than to deny it, as it certainly wasn't an invitation so much as it was a kidnapping, considering that the guards were fully armed. She came with them voluntarily, warning the dozens of Morian onlookers that she would be fine and that she had to go alone.