#soverign God

[dailyprayerarrmor]

Lift up your eyes to the hills with the powerful prayer of Psalm 121

[amylinneaposts]

Casting Vision

I pray the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in His holy people, and His incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength He exerted when He raised Christ from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and…

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 21﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Neuvillette x F!Reader -> Ruts

the spring time of the year is much anticipated, it’s a lovely weather to have. a lovely season to fall in love with nature, and a lovely season to be shown just how desperate neuvillette can truly get for you. it’s the way he starts to come home early, it’s the slow intricate details that slowly emerge from your partner. he’s more possessive, easily jealous, eyes your outfits more, puts on his perfume on you before leaving for work, until finally… the hydro soverign’s most intimate, and stressful event commences. the rut, you’d find him going through a phase where he wants to create a nest for his pet, his little mate. you’d need everything you have. water, food, clothes. yet it’s somehow so cozy, you can’t help but awe at it. oh, and also — don’t put things here and there. neuvillette isn’t one for rage but he’d pout if you do so. do it at your own risk. ;)

now that you know what’s happening — its easier to guess that this predicament wouldn’t end until neuvillette’s satisfied with you. “god- you feel so good, i’ll breed you into the malleable little mate i have.” he groaned, thrusting deep into your puckering hole as you moaned for him, ecstatic under the feeling of his ridged cock taming you. a beautiful white ring forming alongside the base of it as he churns the mixture of yours and his essence for the third time.

“can- can’t take it- s’ too much, neuv,” you whimper out as your womb physically stops him from rutting & railing further, your knees shoved beside your ears as both his hands gripped them bruisingly. “you will, you are doing so good, my fragile little thing.” neuvillette praises you, leaning in and suckling onto your already bruised tits & marked skin. “you look so delectable like this, meant to be one with me.” neuvillette is exceptionally vocal today, moaning, groaning & saying words that are a mixture of utter sin & comfort.

“but i’m nowhere near done to loving you — angelic being.” neuvillette looks at you with tender eyes, spilling his load deep inside you as his precise movements of tenderness roam around your puffy clit, pushing you off the edge alongside him. you’re reduced to a brainless, overstimulated mess. little sniffles escaping from your parted lips and staining the pillow. you look so adorable like this— taking neuvillette’s cock as if it’s the only thing you’re supposed to it. it is actually, what better than being hydro dragon’s spoiled mate?

“ssh, it’s okay darling, you’re doing so well.” neuvillette praises, adoring you & kissing your collarbone. “let me give my little one some break.” as soon as the breeding haze fades from his mind into clarity, neuvillette is beside you that very instant, soothing you, helping you drink water, rubbing the areas he held too tight which are now reddened. how cute his little baby looks.

“gotta take a break from work it seems.” you chuckled teasingly, and neuvillette smiles with hum, “both of us, darling… both of us.”

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Brother Humble, the Unlikely Usurper

Your party has been hired to escort a delivery to a monestary high in the mountains, not the most glorious job, but it pays well. Word is that an early frost has stirred up the monsters in the region and has the local bandits looking to fill their larders before the snows force folk off the roads. Best to be quick, quiet, and be ready for anything. 

It’s a hard few days trekking up the mountains, and the heroes’ feet are aching by the time they catch sight of their destination. The monks are happy to welcome them but even more happy to receive what they carry: A large reinforced box containing the bones of one of the members of their order, lost  for some years while she was out on pilgrimage and now finally returned home to rest. Such an act of charity has more than earned the party a few nights of rest and hospitality and the monks, who happen to be as skilled brewers as they are devout souls, are more than happy to provide. Among the crowd of holy hermits the party might just notice a dour faced monk in fraying robes unloading their cart despite wearing ankle fetters, though their hosts ask them to pay no mind: Brother Humble is always in a sour mood and not even an act of god is going to change that. 

Screams wake the party that night, followed by sound of the great bell and the smell of smoke. The monks are being slaughtered, and before they can do a thing about it the part of the monastery they’re staying in catches fire. Just as they’re forced to flee they catch sight of Brother Humble, smiling toothlessly as he runs one of the other monks through with a sword of unearthly black metal, laughing as the world around him burns. 

Adventure Hooks: 

Trying to divert the mad monk from his slaughter turns out to be a hopeless task, as despite the fact that the old man should barely be able to lift the sword he fights with an inhuman strength and speed and a skill that far eclipses the party’s best. He’ll toy with them at first but should any of the heroes try to make a stand he’ll make sure to give them something to remember him by: a brutal scar, a missing hand, a burn as he presses their body up against the building as it goes up in flames. Should they somehow manage to hold their own he’ll bring the whole place down on top of their heads, leaving them to wake up and pull themselves free of the rubble in the morning. 

Though well protected in a concealed compartment within the saint’s bone box, there’s a chance the sword will be discovered during the journey either because of the party’s curiosity or a random encounter mishap. In such a case, the party will feel a calm will wash over them as they inspect the blade, a presence intoning that they are a sacred weapon sought by the monk, and it was sent to the monastery so that a great wrong may be righted. What the party do from that point is up to them, though their might be forces that would steal the sword back should they wander too far astray. 

If you’re using this adventure as the launchpad for a campain, consider the party ending the first leg of their journey taking a rest at a local outpost, or friendly mountain town before continuing on to the monastery. Not only will it give your party a break from the action and a chance to connect before shit goes down, but it will also prove a poignant moment when they limp back into the haven with whatever few survivors managed to escape the massacre. 

Background: Before he was a monk the man known as brother humble was named Firodon and he was the disinherited elder sibling of the realm’s previous soverign. Born to rule and a peerless swordsman, Firodon was unfortunately a monster who awnsered any flaw or failure with anger and delighted in petty acts of violence. He wasn’t thinking of the consequences when he dangled his youngest sister over the castle ramparts, he just wanted the brat to know her place. The ensuing fall would mean the girl would always need a chair to get around and showed the king and queen that their eldest was unfit to inherit their name, letalone a crown. 

A hunting accident was contrived, and while it would have been easiler (and saved everyone else a lot of grief in the longrun) to put a bolt through the back of prince Firodon’s head his parents were goodhearted people, and thought that with a little guidance the boy might grow beyond his wickedness outside the pressures of royal expectation. And so a body was produced, a story concocted, trusted servants sword to secrecy. Firodon was dragged to the monestary in chains and finally humbled. The queen and king might’ve been right in their thinking. Though Humble raged at the indignity of his birthright denied, life in the abby was good for him. The rigors of life living so far from the palace gave him an outlet for the energy that spurred his darkest impulses, and the monks were not affraid to correct him when he was wrong, as so many others had when he was crown prince. He was not happy, he never allowed himself to be, but he found peace, or atleast he would have had the sword dreams not started. 

Firodon’s family decended from an ancient line that first rose to power through a compact with Orcus, the now dead god of oaths, part of which involved the bestowal of Dominion, darksteel sword of great power and the service of a spirit set to watch over and guard the royal house. Working from behind the scenes this spirit served Firodon’s parents faithfully, as was its role, but upon their deaths its protection transfered not to their chosen heir but to their displaced eldest child who had never abdicated and was thus the “rightful” king in accordance with the ancient pact.  Since that day it has been working tirelessly to put the sword in Firodon’s hand and see him back on the throne regardless of how much blood it needs to shed in order to do so. 

Art1

Art2

[shinystealingbirb]

Furina has done nothing to stop the impending disaster, Arlecchino has been sure of this fact for years.

And then the flood comes and it leaves and a moment later Furina staggers out of the Epicles, gaunt, shaking, and stares out at her rejoicing people with an expression of horror.

She has half a mind to kill Furina there and then- useless god who cares not for her people- but she looks so pathetic, sunk there on the ground, tears leaking from her empty human eyes, that she thinks letting her live might be the crueler punishment.

After all, she had done nothing.

-

Two days later Furina storms into the House of Hearth, her children hot on her heels, and slams Arlecchino against a wall, demanding “how dare you?”

She is pale and thin and her eyes are sleepless, but the disgraced lady speaks with such unrestrained ferocity. And as her children arrive she waved them away, and she listens.

She learns of this trickster Archon, who committed godly feats with her human mind, who lost half of herself to the Soverign, who has gone mad long ago, and has died many, many times. Who suffered for five hundred years and watched her world drown. Who stumbles outside to find her citizens rejoicing and whole, shouting “the prophecy was wrong!” That her sacrifice had been for naught.

She learns of Furina, who is living for nothing for the first time in five hundred years, and as the child(?) ends her rant, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming, a little feeling emerges from her chest that feels almost like guilt.

[dirgecomic]

This is Magic Myconid

Unfortunately I can only find a clip kf the whole thing. At the end I use a fake Nere head to cover my ‘junk’. I worked so hard on this goofy bg3 inspired number. I had the idea when entering the underdark, thought it was dumb how often Spaw said coming. I practiced dancing for weeks, bought knee pads, edited together voice overs into the song. I couldn’t find just Soverign Spaw audio so I used a voice changer and used is lines lol - except I say riches of magic and Mike, instead of magic and mind at the end. ( I’ll post a full one if I can get ahold of the video).

I also did a Billy the puppet from saw number to love games by lady Gaga - where I also changed my voice to sound like the puppet and edited together screams and song and lines from the movie. I HAD A RED TRIKE GUYS IT SQUEEKED really creepy like. (Still trying to find a video as my friends were to busy watching the show, if any one from rose city comicon sees this and has pictures I would be so greatful to get them).

My company God of Lore Games got to debute thier live dnd production - we were a last min edition in a back room so I assumed no one would see us but we had so many wonderful people come watch.

I met the McElroys (my hero’s) and managed to nab seats right in the front for my first ever TAZ show.

[theology101]

Family Tree of the Divine in my DnD Campaign - Forgotten Realms/Greyhawk hybrid

So I started DnD with the Greyhawk setting. It’s a dark, depressing setting of beings of good fighting against the oncoming, overwhelming dark. It’s fun, but as time has gone by it has been surpassed by its younger cousin, Forgotten Realms. Both are still around, though - Mordenkanian is from Oerth, not Faerûn, same with Vecna. For my campaign, here is my Lore and Family tree

Ao the Everything

Ao the Everything simply was. Then They had a thought - and that thought was Ioun. The Goddess of Thought and Memory was born, and Ao saw something that both was Them, and wasn’t Them - a part of the collective, yet independent. And when They had finished that thought, the concept of something ending came into existence, and with it Jergal, the God of Death and Endings.

The three set about the idea of making, and every time Ao had thought of a new concept, the concept had come into being too, and with it a God. To track who came and when, Time was created and so was Amauanator. Earth and Fire came next, then water and air. And on and on and on it went. And when it was done, the planet had been formed, the universal order had been set, and the original pantheon was born.

Ao the Everything: God of Creation

Ioun: Goddess of Creativity, Thought, and Memory

Jergal: God of Death and Ending

Amauanator: God of Time and Divisions

Akadi, Queen of Winds: Goddess of the Air

Kossuth, King of Flame: God of Fire

Grumbar, Margrave of Stone: God of Earth

Istishia, Lady of Seas: Goddess of Water

Melora, the Wildmother: Goddess of Life

Avandra: Goddess of Change and Luck

Etherdock, the Endless Shadow: God of the Dark

Targus: God of Conflict

Sune: Goddess of Passion

Together, the original twelve built reality. The Sovereigns of Materials fashioned of themselves places where all was them, as Ao had, and tried to split off themselves and coallesce as new beings, without success. The result was, in the center of the four, a mess of their elements, combining and recombining into a number of half-formed shapes - without Ao, nothing new could be made beyond what it was. The remaining eight were set to work by their Creator, fashioning the core of the Elemental Chaos into the Material Plane, named after the beings it was forged of, the Four Elemental gods of Material.

But the Chaos was peaking through, piercing the Prime Material Plane, turning the carefully sculpted hills and seas into hellscapes and arid wastelands. To protect their creation, another realm was made, surrounding the Prime Material. It was Avandra who decided that there would be no set shape to this realm, and things would be free to change and alter - a fluid, chaotic realm, to protect their solid one.

But the Gods had grown upset with Ao. They had formed their creations, and they were proud of them. Yet they sat their, lifeless and inanimate. Jealous of Ao’s power, Targus was able to rile up his siblings to form a coalition, one which went to their creator and asked for the ability to create themselves. Ao, who had grown fond of the many differences and contradictions within Themselves, asked Ioun for her council - for she and Jergal alone of the Twelve refused to join the coalition.

“To grant us this gift is a gift that can never be undone,” she told the Everything. “We will be able to make alone, or with each other. In the dark, in conspiracy. But it would also grant us joy - as you felt when creating Us. And in our independance, we may hope to give you more joy with our creations too. For when, in all that Amauanator has chronicled, have you ever been surprised?”

Swayed by the Goddess, Ao took a raw piece of the Soverigns and made of it a Tablet, and transcribed Their power within it. And like that, the Era of the Making was finished, and the Age of Divinity began.

Amaunator went to Kossuth and together helped each other make children. Amauanator borrowed of Kossuth’s flame, and set it in the void surrounding the Material Plane, and delegated the keeping of Time to his son, the God of the Sun, Pelor. Kossuth, on the other hand, had Amauantor count faster over a divine flame, and when he did the flame grew hotter and hotter until it became Bazim-Gorag, the Firebringer.

Melora set about seeding the Material Plane with life, crafting from the clay the Beasts of the Field, Sea and Sky. But also beyond, creating Flora and Fauna that could exist in the Chaotic Fluid Plane and the Elemental ones. And it was in the fluid plane that she begat a son, Correllon the Archheart, to watch over this chaotic intermingling realm. In the Prime Material Realm, she begat a daughter named Chauntea, Goddess of Planet Life. Yet still, she felt the planeness of it all, the lack of drive in her Life. The stationarity.

With Pelor’s flame now visible to all on the Prime Material plane, Etherdock began to tire. And so he took upon a shape more pleasing to Pelor’s liking, and the two (bound by Sune’s magic) spawned their daughters, Selûne, the Goddess of Light, and Shar, Goddess of Darkness. Selûne, who loved their father Pelor, helped him in keeping time and spreading Light, forming the Moon. Shar helped as well, but was far too independent to be locked in a celestial body, became the Night, staying away from her father. But then Targus began to poke and prod at the Twin Sisters, eventually erupting into conflict between the two.

From that conflict was the first war, Light fighting Darkness. And from that war came Tempus, it’s god and Targus’ son. The war grew violent, tumultuous, almost as bad as before the Fluid Plane was made. So much so that their fathers intervened and Pelor took on the shape of a warrior before warriors had meaning. When Pelor was in the Sky, Light would reign supreme, but when Etherdock had taken his place, Darkness would. Yet regardless of which god’s influence was dominant, the Twins would be forced to suffer the others pressence. The war did not end, Shar and Selûne would simply not be the ones to fight it. And so, they made proxy servants of lesser strength to fight for them.

Ioun had watched the chaos of the Light and Dark war, and watched as it cluttered and crowded her webs of fate. Destiny had grown chaotic, and she grew concerned. So, she split off a part of herself to help focus the strands, to Weave them into something manageable, something usable. This split was named Mystryl, and she was the Goddess of Magic.

Targus wished to participate, and with Sune’s help, he was able to woo Melora. In their lovemaking, they had several children: Gruumsh the Ravenous, Malor the Feral Lord, Meiliki the Forest Maiden, Lurue of the Talking Beasts, and Silvanus the Treefather. Malar and Lurue set about shaping more animals for their mother, while Melikki and Silvanus set about giving the animals a place to live. Gruumsh gave all these beings hunger, a need to eat and consume. In this way, Gruumsh encourages the creations to make way for new life to grow by consuming the old, Targus watching the conflicts as animals competed and evolved against and with one another.

Emerging from the Elemental Chaos with no clear creator was Talos, the god of elemental destruction. Grumbar and Kossuth, following Targus and Melora’s coupling, bred together twins of molten rock and stone, and they were the craftsman Gond and Moradin. Akadi and Ishtisha, begat twins of their own; Auril, the Iceheart, goddess of winter, and Kord, god of storm’s and strength. Avandra, watching as their family grew larger and larger, figured it was time she had children too - Tymora, Good Luck, and Besheba, Bad Luck. Both were set loose to inflict chaos.

Much in Sune’s confidences, Mystryl grew fascinated with Pelor. Unlike the other gods, who mostly were content with their sphere’s of influence, Pelor was ambitious, restless. He had turned from simply the Timekeeper to the God around which the whole plane revolved around, literally. He was a fire god now, a war god too (Forced to break up Shar and Selûne’s fights as he was) as well as his role as the literal Sun. Mystryl liked that ambition, and so she approached him, and together they had a son, and his name was Lathander the Newdawn.

Wishing to have a partner, Corellon asked Avandra to make him a wife. And that she did, and she was beautiful and dark. But Sune did not like the pair, waiting until they had produced the fey and their daughter Sedhaine/Ellistrae, the Dreamweaver before setting her husband Targus upon the pair. Lolth and Corellon started arguing, and that arguing split their children. The Fey did as their gods did, and fought and split into the Unseelie and Seelie courts - receiving patronage from Shar and Selûne respectively. The Fey took on the nature of the Fluid Plane, wild and chaotic with beings and geography shifting and altering at random. Gruumsh inflicted himself upon the Fey in equal measures, feeding into their love of mischief

All was well in the realms until Pelor, Targus, Mystryl and Avandra came up with a scheme. Though they could create new life, new beings, these beings were only aspects of themselves. Parts of them. Though they could become more, as Pelor had, and his and mystryl’s son had after, but they weren’t new. Not fully.

So, Lathander approached Ao the Everything, and asked the venerable Progenitor to teach him how to plant. He took a scythe into the earth, and attempted to use it as though it were a hoe. Amused, Ao the Everything took upon a physical form so that They may show the young god how it was done. They took the seeds from Lathander’s hands, summoned and focussed the winds to part the ground in furrows. Having never taken physical shape before, Ao found the experience enlightening, enjoyable even. So They asked Lathander what ground he wanted parted next, and after that, and so on.

Unbeknowst to Ao the Everything, They were not plowing randomly into the earth. Lathander was there, guiding and requesting as they went, shaping row after row of soon to be plant life, into creating a massive runic symbol. But Mystryl and Shar were able to obscure that from Ao, just as she obscured that Lathander’s seeds were banefully cursed. Each drained some of Ao’s divine power. They could’ve noticed it, perhaps, but Besheba ensured it was the God’s bad luck to never check.

With each seed planted, Ao summoned pure Water. It was then that the trap was launched. Pelor added his own divine flames, and like that - another Tablet had been formed. Made of the raw materials, Ao was tricked into separating off themselves in another covenant. Three of the four prime elements were involved in the phony farming scheme, and when Pelor added his flame the tablet was set.

There, with what was left of Their power, Ao could have smashed thr Tablet, restored to Their full power. But Targus had appeared from behind and restrained him, Mystryl’s magic beginning dissolving the Creator into his raw components as Selûne flooded Their eyes with light and Shar with darkness. The Everything tried what They could, using what was left of Their quickly fading power to strike at Their Betrayers, but Pelor overwhelmed Them with the full Force of the Sun, long enough for Lathander to take his scythe and carved out the Heart of Creation.

Without Their heart, Ao was defensless as Mystryl’s spells finished their work, scattering the Creator to the Elemtenal Chaos. The Creator was dead - but from those seeds that had been planted sprouted the first mortals. The Age of Wonder had begun. Or so they had thought.

Jergal appeared then, the God of Death’s scorn painful to behold, let alone suffer through.

“You arrogant children,” he spat with venom. “You bumbling, foolish and spoiled Children. Dodst thou truly think Ao destroyed? Nay. They art All - to destroy Them is to destroy thyselves, too. Yet, forsooth, we stand. The End of All Things is not yet, but thou have ignited it. And when Ao doth Return, thy’s end will be of your design.”

The new creations were not as great as their previous ones. They were small, and weaker too. But they were free in a way that the Gods never could be. And yet, he who had never created, Jergal was their ultimate master. For all the new creations, inspite of the Gods wishes, were not eternal. They were mortal - and eventually, Jergal came to collect them, spiriting them away to the Astral sea.

They all took a hand in it. Leaving the Feywild, the Fey who longed for a concrete appearance turned into the first elves, orcs and gnomes. From their forge, Gond and Moradin made beings as strong and stout as the steel they worked, imbuing within them the same desire to create that Ao had given all the Gods. The Dwarves, as their machines were called, set about creating too, emulating all the gods who came before in their wish to make. Kord’s lightning struck a mountain and that Mountain became Aman, who began begatting the Giants. Even the Material Soverigns were involved, sculpting from the elements the Genasi.

But from the seeds that Ao had planted came Humans. The accidental creations. The Curse and Seed of Ao. And within each of them was the same unlimited potential of Ao.

Graaumsh and Lolth both chafed under Corellon - though all were Gods of similar power and pedigree, Corellon the Archheart was the Master of both the Fey and Elves, including Gruumsh’s Orcs snd Lolth’s Drow - the Fey to whom were Loyal to them. The Children of Melora erupted into violent war. Corellon, Silvanus, Sedhaine, and Lurue fought Gruumsh and Lolth, snd while Malar attempted to join on their side, his inability to focus made him practically neutral with Melikki. The war between them was long and bloody, only ending when Amauanator deemed that the ‘runt-orcs’ as they were called at the time, were distinct enough from True Orcs that they were a different species entirely. While that did not necessarily mean Gruumsh would lose their allegiance, Targus chose that moment to make the runt-orcs institute a revolt against their True Orc masters. From their collective hatred and rage, the runt orc’s made their own god, Muglibiyet, by worshipping one of Gruumsh’s aspects so hard it became a new being. The sheer shock of the event made all the gods in question put down their arms, at least temporarily.

Humans, with their terribly short lives, started to spread. Slowly, and steadily at first, but accelerating once Mystryl taught the first human magic. All spellcasting prior had been intrinsic, natural, or divine - but now, through conscious effort, spells could be made.

Kingdoms and Empires were forged and destroyed and forged again. Lesser spirits, not quite gods but not mortal either, took to these kingdoms, becoming patrons of certain cities or states. And then, to their shock, the spirits got stronger. Through reverence, the Mortals had imbued psrt of their power into the Spirit. Not much, not anything tangible to them, but built up and in the right hands, these spirits became lesser gods.

This, of course, was part of the Four Traitor’s plan. Through worship, they gained power, yes, but they gained even more when they claimed a Soul. Jergal escorted the souls of the Dead to the Astral Sea, but from there Lathander would steal the ones most loyal to the Betrayers and dole them out accordingly. And soon, Pelor, Mystyl, Targus and Avandra became stronger than any god could’ve imagined. Especially Pelor and Mystryl, both of whom had absorbed what they could from Ao when they destroyed him. Yet it did not change that Death lead to uncertainty and chaos.

See, Ao just vanished, or so the other gods thought. Only those involved, plus Jergal and Ioun, knew what happened to Ao. All thr others could sense, suddenly, that he was gone and they had new abilities. When Mystryl told them that Ao had given himself for them to create, they believed. It was their dark and hidden secret.

Pelor commanded his son to hide the Heart, hide it some where it could never be found. So in the lowest plane he could fine, he made a mountain with nine distinct layers, surrounded it by a River, and put the heart at the bottom. Lathander was given command of the Peak, and granted his friends and colleagues positions all throughout the length of the monument. It was there that Lathander stored and processed souls before granting them to the betrayers.

It wasn’t until a young mortal woman, who’s name has faded from existence, was able to make a spell. She had lost her family in tragedy after calamity, watched with her magical talent as they were split and separate, so the family could not rest in peace. So she made a spell, coalescing all the pieces of Ao she could and binding them to herself. In a moment, the mortal girl had become a Goddess. Cloaked in the rotting and black power of Ao, she flew to the Land of the Dead, beseeching the Lord of the Dead to grant mercy to the dead.

But Jergal could not grant mercy, for he was not the one who was inflicting their torment. He was the God of Death, yes, and he took the Souls when their time had ended, but he did not own the Souls. He did not want to. So he allowed them to do as they wished after he collected them. It mattered not to Jergal if a Mortal’s spirit was locked in Elysium or the Elemental plane of fire. And so, as her domain, she became the Shepherd of Dead, and their judge. When Lathander went to retrieve his harvest from the Astral Sea, he was shocked to find it nearly empty.

The Raven Queen, for she had shed her mortal name, met with God and named him fiend. Souls, all Souls, would go through her before she decided where to take them. Enraged, Lathander took upon a fearsome aspect of red skin, leathern wings, Fangs and several sets of Horns. Wing against wing, claw against talon, the newly made Goddess held firm. Her mastery of magic had only enhanced upon her apotheosis and was able to match the child of the Sun and Magic. For in claiming her mantle, she was granted access to the strings of fate, and with it she learned of the Betrayer 'secret.

The Raven Queen, for she had shed her mortal name, met with God and named him fiend. Souls, all Souls, would go through her before she decided where to take them. Enraged, Lathander took upon a fearsome aspect of red skin, leathern wings, Fangs and several sets of Horns. Wing against wing, claw against talon, the newly made Goddess held firm. Her mastery of magic had only enhanced upon her apotheosis and was able to match the child of the Sun and Magic. For in claiming her mantle, she was granted access to the strings of fate, and with it she learned of the Betrayer's secret.

They were gone speaking for a time, and when they were finished, Lathander was smirking. The Betrayers would keep their secrets, and they would receive their souls still. But now, any Mortal who pledged themselves to a God would be escorted by the Raven Queen to the Astral Sea

Several others followed the Raven Queen to Godhood, but with intentions less pure. The Dead Three were mortals who spread Chaos and Death in the realm of Mortals, and eventually they fought their way to Jergal. Instead of a battle, Jergal instead lifted each of them to godhood, allowing them to choose thier own domains. Bane chose Tyranny and Power, Myrkul chose to be master over all the dead, and Bhaal wished to unleash his bloodlust on a scale never dreamt of. But Jergal had tricked them - by taking a divine seat, they were bound by all the laws of Gods and they lost their ability to act without the Divine noticing - and possibly stopping them. Yet, as Custodian of the Dead, Myrkul allowed Necromancers to summon vast hoards of undead, Bhaal and his daughters unleashed plague and suffering en-mass and Bane’s patronage aided the darkest of Despots. And so, Mystryl incarnated in mortal form and guided two mortals to godhood. Cyric, who’s position of strife and chaos would destroy Bane’s kingdoms and shatter the control of Myrkul’s necromancers. Kelemvor, who would be the Judge of the Dead - giving souls their sentences so that they would not be fodder for summoning. But Mystryl had grown wroth at the impetuous mortals who thought they could be Gods - and so she found a Necromancer of phenomenal power known for his hoarding of knowledge and secret. And so, she whispered to him the secrets of Ascension, knowing that he would then wipe out all other sources of that information so that he alone amongst mortals could ascend. And so, Vecna rose as a Divine and went to claim the crown of the dead - only for Mystryl to correct that false assumption. Vecna would be the God of Secrets and a patron of necromancers - but he was still bound to the laws of Magic. Mystryl’s laws.

Such was the status quo of the Age of Wonder, and for seven thousand years, there was peace. Consistency ruled the heavens and the mortals worshipped as their gods walked the earth. Millions of legends come from this period, where even the most mundane of mortals could sprout an oasis in a desert or incinerate a beast. The greatest of these mages met in the Ivory City of Heaven, meditating on the nature of the Universe and Ao.

For Ao’s name was still known, the Everything was still worshipped. The revered Missing God who had given Themselves to oblivion to allow their mortality - or so the Gods told them, and the Betrayers, Ioun, the Raven Queen and Jergal were not inclined to argue. And so They continued to receive worship and, like all other deities, They received power from it.

And in the Elemental Chaos, They took form.

The Doom would come from Karsus, the greatest living Wizard and Emperor of Netheril. His home city, Nether, had been a piss water port on the coast of the great inland sea. When Karsus was a boy, the town was besieged by a dragon. Karsus, only a child, ripped a hole into Baator’s second level, stole several hundred of Mephistopheles servants, dominated them and tore the dragon to shreds. Over the next several hundred years of his life, he acquired magic and power unseen since the ascension of the Raven Queen, helped along by Mephistopheles, who had become fond of the mortal.

Karsus learned of the ritual that the Raven Queen had attempted, but Karsus wanted more. Made of Pure Earth, forged in the flames of the Fire Plane, quenched in the Sea of the Water Plane, and carved by the True Wind of plane of Air - Karsus forged his terrible artifact. The Crown of Karsus, a twisted mockery of a Tablet. And through that, he tried to ascend. He called all the fragments of Ao to himself that he could. And for just a single instant, Karsus was everything. And then he felt himself be carbed off and seperated, madness fracturing him as Ao had, the history of everything filling and breaking his mind until the spell was complete.

Karsus was gone, and emerging around a cold void was Tharizdum. All of Ao’s hate and anger and rage - all They had left - in an all consuming storm of a god. Tharizdum was Ao’s vengence, and It was set on consuming all that there was, returning everything to Itself so that It could never be betrayed by Its children again.

In Baator, the Heart burst itself, forming a pit of unending depth, and from each layer would step the Demons. Robbed of his ability to make true life, all Tharizdum could do was pour Itself into these beings, and their infinite numbers all hated as much as It did. They, too, entered the Primer Material, tearing through the Abyss and in to aid their father by punishing all the little mortals.

Corellon and his allies took themselves to the Feywilds, using the Chaos of the realm to their advantage as they battled Demons. Gruumsh, seeing the opportunity to finally claim his brother’s crown, betrayed the Fey by opening a portal to the Abyss within the valley that divided Seelie and Unseelie. Orcus, Exarch of Gruumsh and his demi-god son, had no idea about his father’s betrayal, and flew to do battle with Zehir, the Cloaked Corrupter. The Serpent God bit Orcus, injecting into him the pure Abyss. Orcus was twisted by the venom, his traits exagersted into a monstrous mockery of an already wicked god. While this was happening, Gruumsh had dueled Corellon for the crown once again, freezing only when he saw his son turned into a Demon. Corellon used the moment of weakness to stab Gruumsh through the eye, and banishing him and hid followers from the Feywilds. Yet it was too late - Zehir was already here, and was now aided by Orcus the Necromancer.

Grumbar, Margrave of Stone, lumbered into the Prime Materiel and did battle with Tharizdum. The massive Earth titan collided with a storm of chaos and raw creation, fists the size of islands cracking against It. But Tharizdum did not stumble, did not break, and began shredding the Fourthborn. All the while, Demons feasted and rampaged through the country sides. The Gods were deafened by unanswered prayers. And then Grumbar was pierced clean through the chest.

It was then, rising with the morning sun, that Pelor charged into the fray with his heavenly host, while in the west, Lathander rose, a dark reflection of his father, with an army of his Devils and mounted upon the Ember Phoenix. Father and Son baited and pulled Tharizdum with them, granting Grumbar some reprieve before he was set upon by Torog.

Coming to rescue their brother, the remaining Material Sovereigns emerged to do battle with demon lords. They were, however, too late for Grumbar. In his weakness and before aid could arrive, the Crawling King burrowed into the Titan’s flesh, carving out tunnels and opening tears into other planes. It was too much for the Earth titan, and he collapsed into the inland sea, making the Hollow Hills.

Ioun had seen the murder of Ao by her daughter and grandson, yet had stayed silent. Mum. If Ao were to return, Ioun would serve Them again, and gladly. But Tharizdum had none of Ao’s mercy or creativity - simply a drive to end everything.

And so, Ioun did what she did best - think. Tharizdum could not be destroyed, nor could It be overpowered with strength. And so, Ioun told Mystryl and Pelor how to defeat Tharizdum - bind him.

While Lathander and Pelor dueled the Storm, Ioun was carving a third tablet - a true tablet, unlike Karsus’ abomination. Gond and Moradin forged manacles of adamantine, enchanted to stay solid even against the Chaos of the Void.

Pelor, using all his strength and power, struck at the God, and the impact shattered the land and broke the mountain. It was only due to the bravery and skill of the maid Mahthillidis that the city Lagharic survived the blast, as every other structure, from mountains to forest, were scorched snd blasted away from the blow. Weakened temporarily, Mystryl used the Weave to ensnare Tharizdum, Kord pulling hard on the Weave as he held It down. Ioun chanted as Lathander bound him in Adamntine Manacles and Mystryl fought to cage all that he was. With Its final, angry strike, Tharizdum slew Mystryl and in that moment, all Magic died too. Tears of flame dowm his cheek, Lathander rode Desirat straight to the Hells, dragging the Chained God behind him. It was only when Baator Mountain pierced through Tharizdum like a lance, shattering what was left of It’s mind. Where he had hidden the Heart was now the opening of the Abyss, and so Lathander reclaimed the Heart and chucked Tharizdum into the Abyss.

Without Tharizdum opening rifts and forging demon lords out of the environment and things around It, the rallied and inspired Gods were able to banish the last of the demons, but with great loss.

Besides Mystryl, hundreds of spirits and lesser gods were killed or corrupted into demons, and Targus simply vanished. The second the Abyss opened, Targus brandished his war axe and rode his bull mount down, never to be heard from again. That was not Mystryl’s fate.

The Web of Fate and souls needed to be replaced, and Mystryl had prepared for the posdibility of her death. She seperated some of her divine spark and entrusted it to the Raven Queen. When the dust cleared and all was well, the Raven Queen released that spark. Soon, it grew, and then Ioun was with it, teaching it. And then Mystra was born, and she set about restoring the Weave.

Lathander, bloody and injured and mourning his lost mother, took refuge in his holy city, Lagharic. He had expected ruins but when it was in one piece and he learned a Mortal woman was responsible for its safekeeping, he went to her. He granted her a Crown of Infernal Iron and named her as Queen and Mother of his people. For those who had been in the blast radius of Pelor’s strike and survived, they were forever altered. They adopted the form that Lathander had - horned and barb tailed - or they had residue of the divine glow in their skin. They were a people apart now, changed. And Mathildis and her son with Lathander, who had taken upon the name Asmodeus, Gerald would start a dynasty that would last for over a thousand years

[nomorefstogive]

What if Columbina is the Cryo Dragon Soverign?

This is just a random idea that occurred to me while playing through Fontaine, but what if Columbina is not a Seele but is instead the original Dragon Sovereign of Cryo, theu nease that Childe feels around her being due to just how ancient and powerful she is, and Wanderer has at least some hint that she is by no means what she appears to be.

Her reasoning for working with the Tsaritsa would be readily apparent then, revenge on the First Usurper that is Celestia, a chance to settle whatever debts she has with the Abyss and once all of it is done, the opportunity to roam a world without the Principles looming over it.

Aside from that, I have no proof of this being the case, like I said this is just a crack idea, but I feel it would be an interesting if not unnerving twist of events, with us having to face a Dragon Sovereign that bears a delusion while also contending with any other number of problems.

Part of me imagines that she uses her songs and such to deceive and manipulate others, making us fight friends while thinking they are foes and such, but all of that is just a mask to disguise her true might which she reveals when she is pushed far enough to open her eyes and take us seriously.

Anyways, this is just a crack idea I came up with and I hope everyone enjoys considering, maybe she is just a Seele or a powerful illusionist or something else, maybe even a fallen god of old.

Either way, I hope everyone takes care and stays safe.

P.S. If this is all over the place it is because it is nearly 4 in the morning and I am tired lol.

[lesbonym]

Yeah you had me at “how about I make this decision nice and easy for you” (which also happens to be the very first line). I’m all yours. That much wasn’t in doubt, but still :3

Please Nym, my Soverign, my Goddex, please make me feel good. I’ll be nice and pliant for you, do whatever you want whenever you want. Please

Maybe I should get some new lingerie, something nice enough to catch your eye, but cheap enough so your pretty knife can slice right through. Or maybe I surprise you, have a brand new knife laying on my bare stomach like a brand as you come home from a long day

Just throwing ideas out there :3

Vampire story should be coming soon

-🐦‍⬛

Mm, good girl. Love that you know that you're all mine. It's never a doubt because we all know that you're mine. I'll make all your decisions that you think too hard on, keep you acting so good for me.

I love it when my baby stays nice and pliant. All wrapped up in the prettiest lingerie. But I'll buy you a new one if I get too eager and have to cut them off. God, but it would drive me insane to get home and see you so ready for me. The thought of you loving so pretty for me with a knife ready, just makes me wanna ravish you.

Edit: I got distracted by the thought of you laod out and knife. But I'm super excited for the vampire story too lmaooo.

[dualisume]

@qilyns asked ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ // unprompted? ' let them say what they want, we won't hear it. '

Scared, Humiliated && Hated , that's what furina feels after the grand finale of the magnificent trial tha focalors had planned for her , it was true that the prophecy had been destroyed ; the sins of her people had been forgiven but humanity cannot grasp what was hidden behind doors , what the sacrifices furina had to make during all those years && instead just opted to what is presented to them , blamed the one they can easily blame , they were furious at her 500 years of reign , at her crimes on fooling them , && she didn't blame them , never had && never will , for it's their right to feel the anger that the diety they loved && praised so much was a fraud , that the god that is supposed to help them , have no power to do so.

So furina fled, far , far away from the place she used to call home. It was spur of the moment after the brief explanation of the Iudex regarding what happened, furina requested to rest && return to her chambers, but in truth she had left fontaine without even a single goodbye, the ex hydro archon , had found herself wondering around nations, -- first the scorching hot dessert of sumeru , then the rainforest -- until she found herself in the land of contracts Liyue.

Her divinity may be gone , but her name && face wasn't so it was a surprise when all of sudden, when a woman , welcomed her to their lands , her appearance && atmosphere is slightly similar towards the hydro dragon soverign , so furina knew that she is no ordinary person, she could be safe around her but still the ex hydro archon was alarmed after being found , panic runs through her body as she stepped back , causing her to stumble on her feet, and fall down into her rear.

of course , why would she not be afraid ? Perhaps the news of her fooling a nation && heavenly principles had spread like a wild fire, and now there's bounty on her head && the girl was sent to her was there to jail her && give her , her punishment.

❛ P-please , don't hurt me ! I know i fooled everyone, i'm a fraud of a god -- && i run away from my crimes, but I'll take responsibility for it , just please don't hurt me --! ❜ Humiliating... a god should never begs for her dear life , after all the savings && sacrifice she did. Then she heard her speak , it was soft yet comforting as if it was a loyal retainer respecting her Lord . ' let them say what they want, we won't hear it. ' Ganyu stated before She held out her hand && before the qilin could even react the ex hydro archon , pounces at her hugging her tight , and weeped into her arms. Letting out all the emotions she had surpassed, for 500 years up until the present.

[amylinneaposts]

John 10:4

When He has brought out all His own, He goes before them, and the sheep follow Him, for they know His voice. John 10:4 When we place our lives into God’s hands, He guides us. We trust Him and in return, He guides us step by step. Can be comforting when you realize Who is now in control. Even when He leads you into the dark. When God guides us into an ugly part of life, what do you think He…

[idyllic-affections]

now that youre done with the archon quest; what are your thoughts on how the sinth production was handled? i found it kinda weird how its entire distribution was dependant on just a guys (also its like a cartoonish caricature of a drug, makes you feel amazing but almost immediately sends you into withdrawl too? like how was anyone buying this)

also, what do you think of neuvillette being a parental figure to furina? i've been thinking of making furina focalors' daughter instead of a different version of her. I also think her and neuvi should've been old friends, which is why she trusted him to take care of furina. And i think it would make focalors' death much more impactfull for him

(P. S. happy early anniversary!)

🐌.

man. i have so many thoughts about the archon quest. Probably enough to warrant their own post tbh HAHA

tbh, it was sort of just... there?? i don't have any particularly strong feelings about it, it felt very much like it was there exclusively to serve the purpose of progressing the more overarching plot. which isn't inherently bad. sometimes we all just need plot devices 🙏🙏 that's definitely how it felt to me--plot device-y. vacher didn't serve much of a purpose other than for progressing the plot--making you aware that fontainians return to their oceanid forms when they dissolve, letting you know they CAN dissolve, etc. he was just there to serve the bigger ideas imo

HE SO IS HER DAD IN MY BRAIN MAN. he's all of fontaine's dad if we're being real /hj /lh...... bro loves these people so much that he could never even consider deeming them guilty, and he KNOWS it. god. even though he's a soverign. even when his power was unjustfully taken from him and used to provide humanity with a throne for a god. Idk. hes so. such a gentle and empathetic guy. he really is even if it does not outwardly seem so. he's such a DAD. he's so furina's dad. she reacted so viscerally to his disapproval multiple times in the aq. he is making sure she is taken care of even though she no longer has to play archon. *head in hands* dad behavior. Dadittude.

i was actually quite fond of the whole "mirror me" situation, but this does have it's own appeal too! and focalors and neuvi being old friends would definitely be such an interesting path to explore..... definitely would make her death that much more devastating i think

(and thank you dear <333)

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 23﹕✦﹕┈・୧

event masterlist

-> neuvillette x f! reader -> aftercare

"please, please neuv- agh!" you exclaimed as neuvillette pulled out another orgasm out of you, with his skillful fingers rubbing at your sensitive clit and his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. He's not a normal human being, he's the dragon soverign and the very fact that he's build different, makes it harder for you to handle him. His cock has ridges, the way they give your cunt the most friction It could possibly take, the way the girth almost tears your pretty pussy apart. Neuv loves it, the blacked out expression on your beautiful face when you get accustomed to him fucking you in his shape.

"there there, that's alright." neu's thrusts halted for a moment, watching you cream over him and letting him fill you up all over again. The left over cum dribbling down through your plugged pussy, strained from his cock. There was only so much you could take after all.

"it's okay, I got you now." neuvillette cooed, kissing your forehead deeply to ground you from the haze, he's not been gentle tonight and now he just needs to remind you how gentle he can be. Hands traversing through your skin, massaging your arms, your pelvis, petting your sore breasts he nipped on, kissing your collarbone, kissing your cheeks. "such a good girl you are, darling." he smiles softly, glancing at the way you stare at him, so love drunk and so immersed in subspace. "you know I love you right?" neuvilette crooned, craddling you into his arms after he pulled out. "ssh ssh ssh, it's okay." he hummed, watching your ragged breaths slowly taking the direction of calming down. you were wordless, mindless and oh so fucked up in the best ways possible. No one could ever make you feel so good after all, it feels like you're floating.

"let go," neuvillettte gently commanded, watching your pupils shut down as you strain yourself to keep you awake. You croaked a small, "I love you" to him.

"I love you too my darling mate, please, let go. I'm here for you." neuvillette reminded you tenderly, his knuckles running gently through the apples of your cheek.

"let's run us a bath, how about that?" neuvillette suggested after letting you gather yourself enough in his warmth, in his soft embrace. You nodded, leaning in against his chest, humming in approval.

He picked you up princess-style, making a beeline towards the rest room, turning the jacuzzi on of the bathtub, cradling you into him like you're his little baby. Like you'd break if he was even slightly careless.

The warm water soothed your aches, while neuvillette used this opportunity to hold you close, cooing sweet nothings into your ear- how special you are, how you make him feel loved, how you made him feel like he's a part of fontaine, not an outsider, how you kiss him every morning when he leaves for work and how he can't wait to come back to you. God- you make him spiral so good for you, in all the best ways. "I'll not be kind to anyone who even thinks of harming you." there is a slight sense of degeneracy attached to the tone of his sentence. You hummed, sighing and letting yourself bask into the sweet feeling of being taken cared of. You nodded, "no one's gonna harm me, not until they know who's wife I am." you chuckled, and neuvillette for once, agreed, too. He would do anything to protect you after all. <3

[meandmyechoes]

Kingohger ep16 speculation

Gokkan had a royal family???!!?

Everything Rita is RITA and not GOKKAN KING??!!（😍😍）

Morphonia is the last princess!!

-> her being the sucessor and not-loyal to Rita in spite of their ages make so much sense now I'm so down for Rita being Morfonia's knight

---

That man was Rita's first trial

The previous Sovereign/Queen was murdered in God's Fury

That man passed a vial of (Scorpi) poison to Predecessor

-> That man cannot be directly responsible for the whole incident or they'd have had answers (and he confirmed God's Fury is an delibrate act in the appeal)

Is the assassin to Ishabana just an assassin? Is there a larger group, if not bugnarok, that orchestrated the mass assasainations of the five soverigns? (From where Jeremy stands, the story calls for a third antagonist group)

私はもう間違えない

I will not be wrong again

They made a mistake in the man's trial 15 years ago (that was corrected by ep16's appeal trial)? Or were they timid before being a judge and this is a word of reaffirmation?

What happened during God's Fury/their first trial that made Rita push neutrality to the extreme? I imagined Gokkan to be weak in the chips in terms of political games but the regime wouldn't be outright corrupt - yet they might very well have their own stance and alliances.

Did the Queen gave a biased judgement that lead to her murder? Did that inspire Rita to remain neutral to the extreme? Or is their 'immovability' what got them chosen?

---

Did the man file an appeal or did Himeno brought up Gokkan Queen's assassination that Rita now connects with God's Fury? If the man is the culprit, why has he not been sentenced to death (or simply his death sentence has not been carried out?) Keep in mind that it would've been Rita's judgement… Has he made a deal to provide information in exchange for a life sentence since his death penalty is coming up? Or has someone else's orders prevented his death?

It couldn't've been the Queen's direct words becausr Scorpi poison acts immediately amd the repeated means in Ishabana would raise suspicion much earlier. So how did the Queen die?

---

taking a closer look at the Gokkan Queen she has dark hair too? Only the bangs/front are silver like Morphonia. But her having two-toned hair makes me suspect if Gokkan royalty IS halflings…

Nothing rules out Rita and Morfonia being related yet… I mean, I wouldn't rule out the Arendelle sisters plotline…

#but Mon if Gokkan royalty is halflings is Rita cast out because they are NOT halfling enough? why then would they need to hide the odd eye?#do you wanna hug a moffun~

--

Culprit is wearing a militaristic uniform in the flashback. Most of his head is out of frame but some silver hair is spotted on him present day.

I lean to occam's that the silver hair is just due to age -- unless cousin theory is back with him being the Queen's sibling AND Rita's father. (Rita's father is a popular theory on twitter and the actor is credited as シロン)

Back to basic, he is at least a high-ranking official if not his crime the reason Gokkan no longer has a military force.

hmmm idk I feel like he being Rita's father actually is highly probable (stacey parallel

2 am theory time: Rita's father (General) murdered Morfonia's mother (Queen)...

He's handing her a poison vial -> he knows of Scorpi's location? i.e. Gokkan's secret treasure?

He hands her a posion vial =/= murder on-site. He could be threatening her to use it, or to go easy with it in a trial.

[certified-anakinfucker]

10.11.14.15.16.18.21

(from these swtor asks!)

10: An NPC you love to hate? — Koth. I am shitting on him day in day out for being an annoying asshat. Honestly. Or Lorman, fuck that guy fr. KALIYO DJANNIS KISS MY SWEET ASS CHALLENGE

11: An NPC you hate to love? — [heavy breathing]

14: Favorite attack? — That zeroing-in charge noise on the Sniper’s “Ambush” shot makes me see God tbh, or the Knight/Warrior’s leap attack.

15: Favorite color crystal? — LICKS THE BLACK-PINK CRYSTAL but also that blue/purple/white one.. Tythian Flame.. so many actually oh my god and the gray-red, I could go on

16: Least favorite color crystal? — eh. I believe there is always a crystal to match something but like. Red-Blue, Menacing Glare, Soverign Gold and Blue, Eternal Gold-Blue …… make my eyes hurt blegh

18: Revanite or Black Bisector? — YOU. Hilariously I forgot what the Black Bisector was despite the fact I literally just finished that questline when we were playing. LOL Revanite <333333

21: Favorite planet? — I’m standing outside your door with “The Occupation of Balmorra” blasting from a wholeass speaker system.

[writinginsunlitcorners]

Inklings challenge 2022

*CRAZED LAUGHTER*

Here is a snippet from my inkling challenge. I wanted to post from the beginning of the story, but my rough draft is so rough you can’t make sense of it. You miss out on some of my (very mess) world building because I’m dropping you off in the crisis. So here is a quick overview.

This is is set in the fantasy world of Malia, but my world-building is still in it’s young stages and is terrible. Basically this is a world set in a kind of medieval time frame. It is very pagan but there is a new (ish) religion called the Callow’hal which honors the “Hallowed Hosts and the Soverign,” and has been trying to root up the black practices and pagan ideas from the past. But they’re kind of discriminated against and though of as crackpots, and the King’s Royal Guard takes pleasure in tormenting them. They don’t honor their own pagan faith in any real devout way, but they’ve taken a spite to these “Pious Cultists” who they see as taking over the country. Even the the Callow’hal are basically just small people doing small things and they’re not actively trying to take anyone down or physically take over. (By the way, not all the pagans practiced black rituals. The people who practiced that  stuff were like druids. Kind of. That’s the stuff I’m still working out. The rest of the pagans were more like Native Americans meets Rome, very “spiritual” but not “supernatural” if you know what I mean. Juri is a young Callow’hal who is married to a  Nalvi, who believe vaguely in the “gods of the stars” which guide your way and the ‘spirits of the water’ which shape your destiny.

Juri used to be a member of the Royal Guard but he left it because they had become to cruel and greedy. One day he is home with his wife and seven year old son, and a small group of soldiers come to collect “Protection Money” from the town. The Guard are suppose to protect civilians from the Monsters in the woods and mountains, but really they’re just a bunch of goons that steal money and leave the people to suffer with whatever creature attacks them. Juri is the one who protects his town from the monsters, not the Guard. 

When the Soldiers come to Juri’s home and demand money, one soldier tries to touch his wife. Juri defends her and is killed protecting her. Her son, Eilin, also steps up to defend his mother. He is struck down by a soldier, but as he is bleeding the sign of the Hallowed Soverign appears above his head; the three-pointed star. It grows to bright and fearful to stand and the soldiers scatter. Once they’re gone, Nilah prays for help in saving her son.

ANYWAY This thing is really messy and unorganized. I actually VERBALLY RECORDED this entire segment and wrote it down from the recording because I couldn’t make my thoughts flow any other way. This isn’t everything I have, but it’s the only semi-coherent thing. Also, since it was verbal I repeat a lot of names and I’m too tired to edit right now.

 @inklings-challenge I know I am INCREDIBLY late to the party. I almost didn’t post at all because this is some of the the most scattered wriiting I’ve ever done. I wish I could have participate more.

I’m probably going to regret this later but here we go. From where Nilah prays for help.  🙈 🙈 🙈

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

A voice echoed from the mark above Eilin’s head. “take your son outside and pierce the ground with your husband’s sword.” Nilah did as she was told. She went out and struck the earth with her husbands sword. Instantly, a fountain bubbled up from the earth a, spilling over into a warm fountaining pool.

“Draw your son into the water and bless his head with my sign,” said the Voice. “Life shall return to him, from whence it came.” Nilah did as she was bidden and Eilen’s eyes were opened, and mother and son reunited.

Juri was buried in the town graveyard. There were many mourners. Juri was one of the last great Knights, a man not consumed by greed or arrongance, but driven by duty and respect.

Now, it came to pass that the fountain which had sprung up didn’t not dissipate but remained forevermore. Sick and ailing children could come to it and have their infirmities healed answered. Men and women would come and leave their prayers buried in the earth around the pool, in hope their prayer would be better answered. A shrine of sorts was made there, and even some of Nilah’s own people came, at last bucking their superstitious and praying to the Host who dared to bear the mark of the tree, and the Being who dared take the three-pointed star as his own sigil.

And Nilah herself, who herself had long criticized her husband’s faith as mad, found that she also believed in the Hallowed Host and their Kingdom.

Now, Eilin grew into a great man of tall bearing and merry laughter. As a boy he was always gentle but firm. The younger boys loved him for he could not stand a bully, and the young girls admired his strength and his smile. Then, with maturity of age, came maturity of attitude. His neighbors often called the Eilin the great, Eilin the gentle giant, the oak warrior - for he was larger than most men in bearing, spirit, and courage - and strong as an oak tree. Much like his father in laughter and personality, their was a devotion and kindness in his voice and mannerisms that endeared people to him. He was fearless and would often go into the forest to free children who had been ensnared there.  He fought the monsters who lurked in the trees, the belching reptiles that climbed up from the depths, vomited out from those places desserted since the Callow’hal people had come.

As Eilin grew the demand on his time grew as well. More often trolls and wraiths from the black altars would sneak their way into the forest and the mountains, ensnaring men and women alike. Eilin, bearing his father’s sword, went out to meet them. Some people whispered that such demands were too much for a young man – he was certain to fall into vanity or pride – or worse, he would fall prey to the monsters he boldy faced.

           Yet for all his grandeur he would not join the royal guard however they asked. In his youth he was sent many a letter in the King’s hand. He was offered gold and silver to work for the state. He was begged and entreated. However, Eilin would not answer the messages. When at last, the Steward sent his own guards to claim Eilin, Eilin sent them back with a message of his own.            “I will not serve a sovereign who treats his subjects like slaves. My allegiance lies with Hatha, and the Hallowed that dwell there.”

           With this great rejection, Eilin’s reputation grew. A new name was added to him. “The People’s Knight.”

The Royal Guard’s grew jealous of Eilin and his fame. In their jealousy they became more cruel and vicious than before. They burned homes and attacked people who had done them no wrong – attacked especially those who believed in the Hallowed Hosts. They plundered, killing the men, enslaving the children, and treating the women with shameful disdain. Wherever they went chaos ensued.

Always, Eilin followed in their wake, making right their wrongs, mending what was broken. He became an everlasting thorn in their side, and their jealousy and hatred of him grew.

At last one of the soldier spoke. “Listen to me, my friends. Eilin is a terrible man. Great and tall. Who can bear him? Always he seems only two steps behind us, and when he is not two steps behind he is two steps ahead. He protects those who used to fear us, and with him to defend them we cannot obtain the money we once demanded to give them protection form the monsters in the woods. He gives back anything we manage to still – never can we get our share of plunder. Never do we have enough women to satisfy our needs. Once we had all these lands in our hands, caught in terror of our greatness. Our king was away, his charge on us, and the country was ours for the taking. But now a pompous, self-pious man has crept from the water like some deformed evolution of earth.”

           The men with him said, “aiye,” and “it is indeed true,” and there was much grumbling. The Soldier continued. “Let us call upon some fell beast of darkness and send him upon “The People’s Knight” who thinks himself invincible. Suppose we call upon a monster who will destroy him for us and bring down his foundations. Suppose we destroy his reputation and all he is, humiliate him before the people. Suppose we get rid of this false warrior – this infected ‘oak tree’.”

           And his friends gathered together and agreed to this hideous plot. Now the mastermind of this plot is a fiend and a horror and his name must not be forgotten for it shall be cursed in the lands of Malia, and perhaps at the end of all things all people’s of all kingdom’s shall know and despise it. It has been recorded as Falgo the Deciever, and henceforth we shall call him by this name, that he shall bear the shame of his crime even in his grave.

           Now, Falgo the Deciever and his conspirators banded together to call upon a monster who had long ago been struck down and imprisoned by the Man in White for whom no one had a name – but the Callow’hal honored as a holy ancestor and hero.  The Man in white and his band were pure of heart and mind, warriors and poets, who studied the heavens and thus rejected the numerous ‘gods’ of the cosmos. They believed in the Hallowed and looked for the coming of the new world. Some said they had been blessed by the Hallowed to rid the land of this monster; the great snake whom Falgo the Deciever now set to release.

           In many dark rituals he and his knights kept vigual. The Dark Rituals tainted their minds and souls. Their hatred grew furious, their jealousy shrinking their characters like poison. Now it came to pass that during the night, admist the rituals, several wraiths came to them, drawn by the arts they were performing. Falgo demanded of them the Master, who had long ago ensnared them long ago, and whom they now followed and worshipped. The Wraith’s in their high voices, laughed them to scorn. “The Master only answers to those who will serve him.”

           In their blind jealousy, the soldiers were all to eager to destroy their enemy. They said as one; “We will serve. Ye, even to become Wraith’s like you, if only to gain an audience with him. For it is said of old he brought up a terrible beast of great power who could utterly decimate lands and destroy peoples. We wish to call upon this beast, and have control of it, and use it to take down a dreadful man . He is our terrible enemy, and he is an enemy of your Master as well, for he serves the Hallowed Hosts.”

           So, the Wraith led the soldiers into the Center of the woods, and down a stairway into the depths of the earth. Here, they were presented to the Master. The Master was pleased with their bargain. In his black mind he thought, what fools, what fools, to bargain so much for so little!

           He gave to Falgo the Deciever and his company ten months; Ten to destroy their enemy. He said to them, “Yes I shall call upon a monster and you shall have control over it. It cannot be the same beast which was slain long ago, but it is of the same fabric and long have I worked on it.” And the Master laughed to himself because such beasts were created by malice and hatred and jealousy, and he had all he needed for his monster in the hearts of these men. “In these ten months you will have every chance to destroy the Eilin who has been a sore to you. However, I must tell you that if in ten months Eilin is not destroyed, I will take the Monster back. And you shall serve me evermore.”

           The Soldier’s agreed to this. Then the Master bid them to kneel before them, and he lay his dark hands upon their heads, and cursed them. Then he gave to each of them a ring from his fingers, and taught them words in a dreadful language, with which to control the beast, weaken Eilin, and sew iniquity among the good people of Malia.

           The Master then drew out from the hearts of Falgo the Deciever, and all with him, the darkness which rested in their souls, and fabricated a monster.  It was only a puppet, a shadow with no soul but akin to a machine the black arts could manipulate. It rose into the air, burning and scorching, ready to destroy all in it’s path. It had a great body of writhing mass which could slither like a snake or fly like an eagle.

Falgo the Deciever was given chief charge of the beast, with the others following his charge, able to control the beast to a lesser extent, and able to twist their words so people would grow confused, and brave men frightened.  Armed with darkness the men set out with their prize to destroy their enemy.

Falgo commanded the creature attack the smallest villages first, and the creature did as it was bid. Then, Falgo sent one of his men to feign innocence and ask Eilin for help, and so they would ensnare him.

The man played his part well. He ran into Eilin’s home and fell upon his knees. “Friend,” said Eilin. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Eilin, Eilin, If you were ever a friend of the people, help us now! Our village is under attack by a terrible monster. He will destroy us. You must come, you must come immediately. Help us, Eilin.”

“Show me the way.” Eilin followed the soldier to the door. Quickly he turned to his mother. “Mother, I go to war.”

“Son, I am with you.” His mother kissed him, drawing on his head with her finger, the three-pointed star. “Son, remember your mother. Return to me. Remember the healing that comes here, from the Hallowed.” She offered to him a waterskin. He tied it to his belt, He always took some Fountain Water with him, for himself and other who were harmed. Even a few drops would heal those who were injured. “The Host’s be with you!”

Eilin sheathed his father’s sword and went out. He was not afraid. He had fought many monsters and survived, for the blessing of the Hallowed was with him and had been ever since he was first bathed in the sacred water, drawn out by the sword of his father’s sacrifice. He wore with him his Holy Colors and the medallion, set with a three-pointed star. It was his custom to visit the shrine before an attack and to get a prayer from the Selgate, but the soldiers begged and entreated him, and he left without his visit, and without the Selgate prayer.

He followed the malicious soldier to the first village. He found it burned and destroyed. Many people lay dying. More were seen fleeing for their lives. Some were hiding from the flames which pelted from the sky. Then, he saw the monster.

           A warning sounded in Eilin’s heart.  He knew this was a beast from the Black Kingdom. But it was not like the wraiths, trolls, or mutilated animals which lurked in the woods. This one was shadow and bone, neither living nor dead. This was a cursed beast, a damned impression of reality which the Black Kingdom controlled like a doll. He wondered from whence it had come and how it could have entered this land again when, long ago, the Holy Wit’atal (the man in white) with his band had brought down the same beast and freed Malia from it’s clutches.  

           Falgo saw Eilin coming. He raised up his hand with the ring and commanded the beast. It surged down upon the innocent people, mouth open,  Eilin, brave as he was, drew his sword. He challenged the Shadow in the tongue of the Callow’hal.

           The Beast fell to the earth like a massive serpent, and reared in fury. The holy tongue was to him, like fire on his body. He charged Eilin with terrible speed. He caught him in the coils of his shadowy form, and he enveloped the cold black breathless void into his eyes, and he pierced Eilin’s neck with the spikes which were set on his tale – spikes of icey malice. He threw his prey to the ground and roared in pleasure. Few men could survive hatred’s shadow.

           Eilin pushed himself to his knees. There was blood on his tunic and blood on his knees, but he kissed the medallion he wore and stood again. His horse, loyal beast, stood near. Eilin knew better than to mount him. He said “Stand back, my friend. Wait for my call.” He raised his father’s sword. “Aba!” He cried. “Wit’atal!” And he struck. The blade struck the Beast who lurched back in surprise and fury. Moral weapons were not suppose to trouble him, yet this one had caused pain. The Beast caught Eilin by the neck in his fluid tale and flew high into the sky. He struck Eilin with his teeth once, twice, thrice, and dropped him from a great distance. Eilin fell.

           Before he struck the ground, Falgo had a terrible idea. Suppose the Beast caugh Eilin once more, and with his claws, drove him into the ground and thus ended him in dust, humiliated and broken? Falgo thought with his mind and the Beast respond. He caught Eilin’s body in his shadowy claw and bore him down, intending to make and end of him by teeth and fire, and devour him when dead.

           Caught in darkness, Eilin saw his Father’s face. Wake up, Eilin, Juri whispered urgently. Wake up. And he touched his son’s eyes. Eilin awoke. He saw they were near the earth, moving at a mighty rate. He cried, “Be with me!” and as bravely as he could, he turned in the Beast’s grip, and drove his sword into the claw which bore him down. The Beast screamed in pain and dropped Eilin with only a moment to spare. The warrior fell to the ground and was still. He would have ended then and there, but young women from the village got between him and the beast, and shielded his body with her own, and she was born to the Halls of Light, and the Beast was weakened by her love and fled away to recover his strength.

to be continued....