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Pantheon 2.0 - Game Thread
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Norn
The Weaver

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PostPosted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 10:50 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Gift of the Weaver

"Please! Do not do this!"

The Weaver sighed and turned to face her distraught prophetess. Beneath the boughs of the mighty oaks that stood like sentinels on the marge of Henmil's Forest her people revelled in the late summer sun, celebrating the return of the retinue from Nelva and the fact that in spite of the World-Breakers best efforts, Northern Landir had suffered remarkably little harm.

It was true that their Goddess would soon depart with her fellow deities as the All-Father cleansed Eiran of its pantheon, yet this only gently tempered their joy, for the cleansing would not be everlasting. Iris alone did not smile this afternoon, for Iris alone knew the truth of her Mistress' intentions. Iris, and her daughter.

"My darling Iris, you know I must. The All-Father has spoken, and if I do not leave of my own volition then he will remove me by force. I would not depart from the world in such a way."

"Of your departure I do not speak", replied the prophetess. "I was referring to the Gift you intend to give Eiran upon your departure."

"We have discussed this Iris, at such length that even my patience was tried. The All-Father has given me the opportunity to undo the evil that Nephirthos has wrought, at least in part. In light of my failure to effectively oppose the World-Breaker, refusing such an opportunity would be inappropriate."

Iris' ire and desperation momentarily softened. "My Goddess, you did not fail. In spite of all the harm that the World-Breaker and the Omega and others inflicted on our world, still your people have been preserved - their homes and lives safe. And I have survived because of your love, as has Zeldalia."

At the sound of her daughter's name, the Weaver hugged the young girl tighter for a second. "And yet I did not succeed, for Nephirthos has again shattered our world. Thus I will give the Gift I have planned to give, for Eiran's sake and for the sake of those I love."

"For the sake of those you love you would abandon us forever?"

"By the word of the All-Father I will be forced to abandon you anyway. And the world in which you will remain requires healing. It will not again recover from such a wound unaided."

"The let the others do it! Where is Maeror's healing, or O-gon-cho's light, or Bhakti's love? Why has Adomorn not put forth his strength or Jove her wealth to save our world? When will Hedra Iren or Vadhaka Chorah sacrifice all for Eiran?"

Placing Zeldalia on the sunlit grass, the Weaver let her hands rest on her prophetess' shoulders and let all her love for the young woman fill her eyes. "Oh my Iris. With no aid of mine you have redeemed my brother Simjen from the World-Breaker, and for this deed you will ever be renowned. Do not now dishonour yourself by accusing those who cannot spare you the pain of parting. The other deities do have not done what I am about to do because they cannot. It is my Gift to give, not theirs."

"But you will be lost!" Iris cried as tears poured down her cheeks.

The Weaver gave a small shrug and then enveloped her prophetess in an embrace. "Yet there is no other way. And I am weary beyond measure. I desire to finally rest."

"I will never see you again."

"No. But were I to give any other Gift, still would the All-Father demand my departure from Eiran, and I would be unable to return while you lived. No, I will return to the Weave, and though I will be lost to use and name and life, I will give this broken world what healing I can."

Stepping back she looked Iris in the eye. "Remember Iris, that at the end of your life you also my become one with the Weave, just as Trolin did before you. That Gift I gave to you on the day I chose you and it cannot be undone."

Drying her eyes, Iris nodded and smiled weakly. "It is a small hope, but it will suffice for me."

"I am glad."

"Are you ready then, my Goddess?"

The Weaver stooped and lifted her daughter into her arms for the last time. "I am Iris. All that remains is to say goodbye."

**********

Her eyes wet with the sorrow of too many painful farewells, the Weaver stood in the centre of the topmost chamber of the shining tower of Avenberry and breathed deeply to calm herself. As she did so, her thoughts wondered into the distant past and the last time she had stood atop a tower to weave an incantation. The last time it had been to escape the World-Breaker's malice - this time she would do what she could to undo it.

Slowly, the Weaver began to recall all of the power she had expended over the years since her ascension. The interdiction against the undead that covered Northern Landir and Maeror's cities in Olaern she left, knowing that they would eventually fade anyway, but everything else - her restrictions on who might access magic via the Weave, the Net of Protection that covered Henmil's Forest, and the blinding light of Avenberry - she called back into herself.

On the lush grass outside Avenberry, Iris and Zeldalia watched as the light of the tower slowly flowed upwards, until only the topmost chamber remained shining, though it shone brighter than ever before. Holding her breath and clinging to the daughter of her goddess in her arms, Iris waited for the Weaver to give her Gift.

Small tendrils of power billowed from the tips of her fingers and wound their way through the gaps between the threads of the Weave itself until they were so interwoven that they became one with the Fabric of Reality. Then, with a word of healing and wholeness, the Weaver released her power.

Before the World-Breaker had shattered Eiran for a second time, her intention had been to strengthen the Weave against the rents and tears and fades and general weaknesses that had been all too common since she left it to become a Goddess. But now she faced a greater challenge. She could not entirely heal the gaping void that Nephirthos had torn in the world, but perhaps she could impart enough knowledge and strength that the Weave might eventually heal itself.

Ripped and rent almost to the brink of destruction, the Fabric of Reality eagerly drank her power, requiring nothing of her but a direction for that power. So the Weaver directed the flow of pure divine energy towards healing and wholeness, that the Weave might again be whole, but also towards growth and knowledge and understanding, that it would not always be voiceless victim of the people and their gods.

It was then that she felt it approaching - the moment when the ultimate decision must be made. It broke her heart that she must do this, that she must say goodbye to Zeldalia and Iris and Eiran itself forever. She knew however, that her power would not be enough. Without the ultimate sacrifice, without the very life essence of a Goddess, her Gift would not be fully given. Refusing to give in to despair, the Weaver held her head high and allowed the moment to pass, allowed the Weave to drink not only her power but also her life.

Once she made the choice, the end came quickly. Already she could feel herself starting to fray at the edges as more and more of her being was sacrificed to the Fabric of Reality. As the sweet darkness of oblivion rushed towards her, the Weaver spoke a final word of farewell, a word she knew Zeldalia and Iris would hear.

"I love you."

As the last motes of her being were consumed by the Weave, the light in the topmost chamber of Avenberry faded, and, her Gift given, Norn passed forever from Eiran.
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PostPosted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 7:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Argothoth's and Melirelle's Duel

The island of Necrontir was devastated by the conflicts between Melirelle's smashing forces and the smaller forces of Argothoth.
The cities of the Undead were almost destroyed, while golems, elementals, daemons and soldiers swarmed over the island like crazy shards.
Argothoth's wrath raged. A short-sighted coalition of g-ds had destroyed his plans.
This was enough! It was Intolerable!!

"Melirelle, you damned witch, you have refused to again ally with me and thwarted my noble purpose. Furthermore, you are the leader of the counterattack against me!"
Thus Argothoth came to his decision. "Before the gods are banished from this world Melirelle must die by my hand!"
Having screamed his ultimatum to Melirelle towards the sky, she accepted his challenge to duel.
From a roiling sky, a black flash of lightening crashed to the middle of the battle front. Thousands of the creatures which comprised Melirelle's troops perished in the fulmination. As the wind blew away the dust and powder, a huge shape dressed in a black robe trimmed with marvelous embroidery of gold and silver was seen to be standing in the resultant crater.
His hands were skeletal, and his face a black skull. Fearsome runes decorated his bones, which cast a grim glow.
Turning grimly to meet his foe, Argothoth summoned a sword constructed of deadly bones to his hand.
"Reveal yourself, Melirelle! You will taste my wrath at your refusal of my alliance proposal!"
Coalescing on the ground in front of him, a dervish caused little rifts to spread in the earth. Then with the strength of an erupting volcano, from the earth exploded the huge shape of the Goddess of Mutation. Argothoth stumbled with the force of the explosion.
Naked was her dress with hair of flesh. Her burnished skin had shards of rock like tiny islands moving on its surface. Her eyes were deep dark pools.

"I stand before you, God of Darkness, Time and Undeath! I accept your challenge to duel. But are you sure you can defeat me? Look! Your followers flee at the sight of my armies, your soldiers die in battle against Maeror and Adomorn, and your allies are weak, they aren't able to help you. You lost; you have nothing to give to this world! Depart from Eiran, leave your lands, and free your followers. I will no longer show you any mercy!"
Argothoth stopped dead at these words. If he had any blood to freeze, these words would have froze it. Then his anger broke through, along with envy, fear, and violence. These were strong emotions for the soul of a god, strong enough to still his tongue at the offense.

Freezing Melirelle with the power of Time, the God of the Undead moved behind the shoulder of the goddess, bearing his weapon high into the air as Time began to flow again.

Unable to dodge the blow, Melirelle suffered a deep wound to her back. Roaring her wrath, the goddess gestured with her hand, and obeying her summons a huge spur rose from the earth, perforating and destroying many of Argothoth's ribs.

Having survived the attack, the god of the Undead changed strategy. Avoiding the earth, the domain of Melirelle, Argothoth sprouted huge black-clouded wings and floated a good distance above the ground.
Taking the initiative, Melirelle used arcane words to raise a huge volcano behind her, spouting jets of magma and searing rocks down on Argothoth like cannon balls.
He managed to create a shield out of darkness, which partially absorbed the blows before making contact with him.
Raging at the affront, Argothoth gathered his necromantic forces and raising his hand to the heavens cast down dark bolts of power on the goddess, who shielded herself via rocks shields that rose from the ground at her command.

The battle raged on. Thousands of troops from both factions died due to the fallout from the duel. The armies started to flee, seeking refuge as far away as possible from their battling gods.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, Argothoth called upon darkness to pounce on Melirelle, blinding her vision with a ring of darkness.
While whispering a dark and evil curse, the god of Time placed his hand upon the chest of the goddess. A black lightening bolt crackled forth, blinding the entire island and chasing down all of the creatures upon it.
The force of the bolt threw Melirelle into the water, where the sea greeted her with a mighty splash! A victory cry was emitted from the throat of the god. Grim was the laugh, and long lasting. Until the laugh was relentlessly interrupted.
At the same speed the goddess was thrown in the water, she returned under the earth, exiting again near Argothoth.
He was still laughing when she attacked.

Sprouting multitudes of tentacles like rock worms all over her body, Melirelle wrapped Argothoth's body, and he disappeared in the horrible embrace.
The frightening sound of breaking bones came out from the completely enwrapped body, and Argothoth's howl of pain was heard for miles beyond the shores of the island, before it was extinguished in muffled gurgling.
Melirelle was ecstatic in victory, and she laughed out loud with pleasure! Her tentacles continued to crumple the remains of the Undead god. Dust and ash dropped from the tentacles to the ground. Suddenly, a change occurred. Spreading forth from the tentacles was a dense dark smoke, true darkness, that started to coalesce not far from the Goddess. In a matter of seconds there again stood the completely recovered huge shape of Argothoth in front of her.
"It seems that your tentacles cannot harm me, sister!" he exclaimed with pride.
"Instead your lightening of negative energy caused me damage?" she mocked him back.
Once again wrathful, the skeleton deity turned next to his domain of blood. He aimed his opened palms towards the goddess, then suddenly closed them tightly into fists.
“Suffer damned witch! Suffer like I have suffered at your hands!”
The goddess was nearly dead, but in the blink of an eye something changed and Argothoth knew she wasn’t defeated. She shook off the weakness and pain the god of Undeath was inflicting on her, gathered her power, and covered herself with a strange and unnatural energy, fiendish in intent. The bonds of blood Argothoth held tight in his fists were severed. Melirelle intensified her concentration and created a huge sphere of near-living light, red and pulsating with power. Then, with all her energy, she threw it at her foe. He attempted to block it, opening his hands in the belief he could stop it. But he was relentlessly overwhelmed and humiliated.

Once again, Melirelle burst out with a fierce laugh at the fall of the god of the Undead. Argothoth realized that both deities energies were in short supply, so he decided to go all out with everything he had.
"Forces of Necromancy, answer to the call of your Master," a sphere of black energy appeared in the right hand of the god.
"Forces of Darkness, answer to the call of your Lord," around the black sphere a grim smoke started to float, making rings.
"Forces of Blood, answer to the call of your Sovereign,” in his left hand a blood sphere from the blood of the goddess started to grow.
"Forces of Time, answer to the call of your Commander," around the blood sphere ripples of Time started to twist reality.
As Argothoth brought his hands together, the remaining forces of his domains, the very essence of a god, were merged into something that no one, god or mortal, has ever seen. A wave of black and red light, consisting of overwhelming energy, routed on Melirelle, destroying anything in its path. Reality itself could not withstand against that much power.

But Melirelle was prepared, and calling upon her own domains she gathered energies in turn to oppose Argothoth’s attack. The earth rose once again to protect her while she drew upon the fiendish energies of her minions for her final attack. She joined her hands in turn, and a wave consisting of rocks, the fiendish energy of her followers, and chaos spread forth from the goddess. The two waves met in the middle of the battlefield with a mighty detonation that destroyed the larger part of the island. A crater appeared, and the cold waters of Undine’s domain poured into it.

But the battle wasn’t finished. Indeed, the two waves were in balance. Neither one was able to prevail over the other. The more power Argothoth fed into his wave, the more Melirelle fueled hers. The two waves pulsated between them; at times they were near to drowning the Undead god, at others Melirelle was nearly overcome. Finally, in the end, the two duelists gathered their last shards of power and both emitting mighty roars of frustration and hunger, one last time hurled the waves one against the other.

The detonation was massive. Earthquakes and tsunamis resulted one after another on what was remaining of the island. All mortal creatures were wiped out, destroyed by the wrath of the gods. Neither deity could withstand the force of the blow, and both Melirelle and Argothoth were thrown violently on to the ground.

Time passed without its Master to oversee it. It ran along its course further than either deity would have wished. In that time the seas settled and the shifting of the earth calmed. Gentle breezes disbursed the heavy cloud of debris. Once the air cleared, the change to the landscape became instantly apparent. Necrontir was gone!! In its place now was an archipelago of small islands. The two bodies of the battling deities were floating on the becalmed waters; their duel having drained all of their powers from them both, leaving them unconscious.

Yet, they were still alive…
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Death is the threshold through which life eternal is reached.
Saving Eiran is the main reason for existing.
Embrace Death as the best means towards this goal.

The most powerful god in Eiran Pantheon 2.0
Divine Rank: 11
Total Worshipers and Prevalent Race: 2.411.443 (undead humans)
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PostPosted: Tue Nov 20, 2007 12:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

O-gon-cho looks upon the devastation that is now Eiran with horror and dread. Her intended gift which she will bestow later, strikes her as possibly too little too late. The Unbinding of her liege and his wife, and the final gift of Norn, has stricken her to her core. Yet she decides to still wait before bestowing her own gift and departing.

Thinking of the upcoming departure of the Pantheon, her thoughts turn to one who befriended her right away upon her hatching and ascendancy. Her brother Argothoth. Always he has been an enigma to her. Not inherently evil, but lately seduced by the madness and corruption of power. And her brethren believe otherwise of him, that he has finally shown his true nature. “There must be something that can be done to return Argothoth to himself before the isolation of interdiction causes him to be totally lost to himself.”

Always, from the time of her hatching, O-gon-cho and Argothoth have agreed to not use their opposite domains of Light and Darkness against each other. Yet the success of the Golden Light of Healing, along with the Song of Healing, sent forth against the Screech’s effects encourages her to not view using her Light upon him as an attack against him, but as a gift to help him, and she decides to make an attempt.

Sending out her call toward the Lady of Healing, she finds that her words only fall upon empty silence. So, if anyone is to attempt anything, O-gon-cho decides she must try on her own, now, before the interdiction is effective.

She has nothing but her domains, her own blessing upon her attempt, and her own sung prayer upon her lips as she sends forth the tiniest tendril of golden Healing Light towards Argothoth…

***********************************

Bracing herself for the expected fury of Argothoth once he realizes what she is doing, she feels his initial resistance to her efforts. Yet…he does not strike back. His resistance stems from an automatic defensive reflex of a mighty battle he just completed. “Ah…Argothoth!! Melirelle!! To engage in such as we are preparing to leave Eiran. I will never understand.”

Then, O-gon-cho feels Argothoth’s resistance to her efforts cease, his defenses come down. And she instinctively knows that he still trusts her.

Taking advantage of this knowledge, O-gon-cho resends her Healing Light with as much of herself put into it as she can and with her prayer Sung molto vocce to Argothoth. He trusts her, and she knows he is not angry at her choice to use her domains upon him.

Suddenly, she is with her brother more than she expected. With the dropping of his defenses, Argothoth allowes O-gon-cho full access to his mind. Her Sung prayer is melancholy and direct, her healing Light shows him the effect of what his actions have done to others.

Fear…”

His mind reels as the visions of what bringing forth the dead of Eiran has done to those still living impress themselves upon him.

Hunger…”

The power…the power he received from all of his forced, yes forced followers. Even now he craves it. But despite his assurances to the Pantheon, what real choice had he given the Undead?

Focusing her intent, O-gon-cho makes her prayer and healing Light ever more direct and purposeful. And Argothoth accepts her melody and visions.

Violence…”

Violently reacting to the visions, Argothoth cries out forcefully as he realizes all he has done. The blindness on his vision caused by the corruption of power is slowly stripped away, and the final thing O-gon-cho feels from her brother as her prayer and Light diminish is

Regret…”

The sorrow of the recollected alliances of the past that he gave up as he pursued ever more power. The sorrow of harming the living, when all he ever wanted was a safe haven for his followers. Regret for allowing the madness of power to corrupt and blind his purpose.

With that, O-gon-cho finds herself expelled from the mind of her brother.

And finished with what she can spare without affecting the plans for her gift, she sits back and waits to see what, if anything, she has wrought.
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PostPosted: Tue Nov 20, 2007 11:12 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Redemption and Gift of Argothoth

When Argothoth regained consciousness he was surprised to find he still held his physical manifestation. It should have dissipated due to his weakness after the battle against Melirelle. He quickly looked around, searching for his foe. But he was weak, so weak; if Melirelle decided to attack again he would be unable to defend himself.

He arose from the surface of the water, slowly walking over the ripples of the ocean. He had no love for the oceans and water in general, so he preferred to remain as dry as he could. He thought of Undine…perhaps he had witnessed the battle…

Eventually he came to the shores of a small island. In front of him the steeple of a temple arose from the sand. He drew closer, and with sadness realized that the steeple was the only remaining artifact of the great temple in the city of Ai-Tomb.

He looked at his oversized hands, but his physical size did not reflect his current concept of himself. He decided to shrink to human size, to be more attuned to his mood. He sat near the feet of the ruins, and scooped up a fistful of sand with his boney hands. The skinless bones were unable to hold on to it, and it started to flow between the articulations. He felt powerless. He was not able to keep the sand within his hands. A small thing that any living creature was able to do, he was denied.

This hurt him, as he realized that even a god has limits, sometimes very mundane limits. Using his divine sight, he again took a look around. Still no trace of Melirelle. She most likely retreated to her realm to rest, as he was doing.

He looked at the sun, but could not feel its heat. In the end, his natural domains even now drove away its natural heat too easily. Argothoth himself was cold, his touch alone could kill a mortal being simply by depriving it of its life’s warmth. Once again he looked around. “The time to leave Eiran has finally come,” he thought, “Vadhaka has the right of it. Most likely the only right thing to do at this time, who knows? Maybe if I was not so powerful, less full of myself, I too, the mighty Argothoth, could have been able to do something to help the world, instead of persisting in destroying it.”

His thoughts sprung out of his head like a flooding river.

He never felt self doubt such as this, why now? He wondered at it, as he never felt such feelings.

“What is happening to me? Has the battle against Melirelle weakened me so much that I am now doubting my highest work?” he wrathfully asked himself. “I am the one that arose a dead god! I am the one who awakened all of the dead of Eiran, I!” he said, standing up and crying to the sky. “I am the most powerful god among the Pantheon of Eiran, so why have I failed? Why are they defeating me?”

Time was flying away, the Time that he claimed dominion over was still flowing. Although it was his domain, he has never had the power to stop it completely, not forever. But at that moment he really wanted to, he wanted all the Time in the universe for himself, to attempt to understand, to try to decide, to think…

He fell to his knees as he once again tried to keep a fistful of sand in his hands. But it, unforgiving, still flowed from his bones.

"I can't keep this sand, as I can't stop Time forever and as I can't stop the inevitability of the doom." A sour laugh came from the fleshless throat like blood from a wound.

Suddenly, something blinded him. At first he thought it was the sun, but then he realized the Light stayed with him, as if it was sent directly towards him. It was similar to a melody, a song…it was marvelous and he was almost enchanted by it…but then he refused to fall under its spell. It could be an attack of another deity that wanted to help Melirelle. He took another long look around, but found he was yet alone. After a short time the Light again blindly stroked him. Something was definitely trying to break through to him but it wasn’t an evil act, he could discern that much.

Then all was clear. It was O-gon-cho. She was singing for him. She was attempting to say something to him, using her domains and her will.

Argothoth lowered his defenses and allowed the beauty of the Song to pervade his mind. He immediately understood that it was not happy. The Song was a prayerful cry. It was melancholy in tone, and the visions it carried talked about terrible deeds against mortal creatures, about broken lives and trampled rights.

For the first time in his life, Argothoth saw what he had done through the eyes of another god, with those of the Goddess of Light and Music.

Argothoth’s point of view shifted, once the blindness from the corruption of power lifted from his eyes. All became clear, much too clear for him. His eyes hurt and he could not gaze long at what the Song forced him to see.

Mothers with their children killed by their Fathers who were reanimated from the battlefields.
Restless ghosts that tormented the sleep of the living, ripping the serenity and happiness out of life.
Lives passed too quickly in Argothoth’s Time accelerated cities, Life’s youth burned away. There was no serenity in his realms, there was no happiness.

“Where, then, is the gift of which I preached? Where was my conscious and my wisdom when I forced the living and dead beings to follow me? How did I become so blind? Why did I not see the biggest of my mistakes?”

The Song picked up tempo, becoming more intense. Its volume increased so much that his ears were unable to tolerate it. “The God of Love was my ally, he was my friend, but no longer do my followers love. Nor do I. The Goddess of Light tried to enlighten my path more than once in the past, but I was blinded by power and my followers with me. The God of Mutation, Nor Yekith, was not an example to copy, but I thought that I was better than he, able to do the right things.

“How could I be so blind, so stupid? How? I who have preached to have knowledge, to seek knowledge, I…I learned nothing. NOTHING!!!!

The god screamed aloud, so loudly that the screaming echoed throughout the entire archipelago of Necrontir.

Once again falling to his knees, he gazed upon his bony hands and saw that they were no longer black, but changed to the natural color of bone, to ivory. On that day Argothoth did not defeat Melirelle, on that day Argothoth was not the most powerful among the Pantheon, but on that day Argothoth learned something. The greatest thing he had ever learned in all the millennia of his existence. On that day, Argothoth learned the meaning of forgiveness.

Allowing his hands to fall, he looked once again at the sun, and this time he seemed to feel its heat penetrating him. From his empty eye socket a lone tear formed, trickled down the face of his skull, and fell to the ground.

As it landed, the physical manifestation of Argothoth shattered like a broken mirror. Ten shards were cast upon the winds of Eiran, into the domain of the Goddess of Air, and hurled around the world by the force of the detonation.
Never again was the God of Darkness, Time, Blood and Undeath seen, but there resides in O-gon-cho’s heart a certainty. No longer is Argothoth black with the corruption of power. Never one to shine with the whiteness of Light, Argothoth has returned to gray.
_________________
Death is the threshold through which life eternal is reached.
Saving Eiran is the main reason for existing.
Embrace Death as the best means towards this goal.

The most powerful god in Eiran Pantheon 2.0
Divine Rank: 11
Total Worshipers and Prevalent Race: 2.411.443 (undead humans)
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O-gon-cho
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PostPosted: Tue Nov 20, 2007 11:15 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Raising her voice in a reverential hymn of thanks for the trust he has placed in her, O-gon-cho draws the donated power of the final gift of Vadhaka into herself and once again manifests. Her Despair at the Unbinding of her Liege and his wife to protect Shakari in response to Nephirthos’ Malice towards all of Eiran, and the resultant Hatred she feels towards Nephirthos and all potential deities of such overwhelming malcontent strengthens her resolve to do what she can to prevent such from needing to happen ever again. And their example of instilling Shakari with self defense reinforces her attempt to provide all of Eiran with a similar ability. It may be too little too late, but she will do as much as she can to protect the future.

Withdrawing the Song she had drawn into herself and cleansed as much as she could of the corrupted effects of the Screech during the course of the Summer, O-gon-cho realizes the changes she has made to it was still not enough. With regret at the thought of diminishing the strength of the Song, she expels the “blessings” from Conquest and Battle, Madness and Luck from it completely, returning it to what she and the other deities had intended it to be.

Once again she sends out the Song of Eiran, purified to its original intent. The donated blessings of the deities still flow through it, with the removal of the blessings above.

Quote:

All that the members of the Pantheon send her are joined within her, and sent out to every atom of Eiran. L-rd Adomorn sends her his great Strength, and Protection for Eiran. Vadhaka sends his Power, so the plans of Chaos and Destruction, Malice and Discord will be Assassinated. Undine sends her the permanence of Water's motion. Hedra Iren sends her the Law that preserves against Chaos. Norn lends great Magic and the blessings of Fate. Jove sends her the raging storms; the gentle breezes; the absolute stillnesses; all aspects of Weather. And she sends a Wealth of species; of experiences; of thoughts. Maeror sends her the Lifeforce of an entire planet. And he sends her the Death that leads to endless cycles. Bhakti sends her the Love that binds all; that leads to more Births and Lives; the thing that gives Life meaning. And he sends her the interplay of all things in Nature; the infinitely intricate threads that weave the world, the way voices weave a song. Argothoth sends her the Blood of all that live, and the Undeath of those who do not…

… The Song's harmonies are a structure of such complexity, such Order, that it is an Absolute barrier to Chaos and Destruction, Malice and Discord. An antithesis.



This time the Song is sent forth as a perpetual action, to be called upon by Eiran itself in times of plantetary need without divine triggering needed, per infinitum. These needs will be limited to only when Chaos and Destruction, Malice and Discord strike on a global scale, provoking undue suffering worldwide. For Astavyastataa Kadna did teach Eiran lessons that were learned: that without Chaos and Suffering, the world stagnates; and the pleasure and joy at the release of their hold would be denied if such were never felt.

Ending her Song with a fervent prayer that this time all will go as she wishes, O-gon-cho reverently steps back and looks over the changed Sirocco one last time. Unlike the rest of her brethren, she knows she will return, but the pain of separation already wracks her soul. She does not resist the will of the AllFather, and goes forth willingly to the Interdiction. But her heart is heavy as she drops her manifestation and releases her claim to the domains of Air, Music, and her loves, her Dragons. Setting her resolve, she wraps herself in golden Light, and dissolves into stillness to await the summoning of the AllFather.
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Xar
Pantheon AllFather

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PostPosted: Wed Nov 21, 2007 8:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

And so it was that, as the last of the gods stepped out of tortured Eiran, the Mists flowed around the world, and sealed it against divine interference through the word of the AllFather. Interdiction was raised, that Eiran may recover from the wounds it had suffered, and perhaps return to the beauty it had once known; and the gods, leaving behind their people, their struggles, their loves and their hatreds, stepped away from Eiran, looking back only briefly, remembering all that had transpired in the years they had existed within it. But Eiran was forbidden now, and would be for an Age; and many of the gods had chosen nonexistence over interdiction. And those who remained looked at the Mists behind them and the Mists ahead of them, and heard the AllFather calling them home...
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