Mythological RolePlay

[RP-Antolone]

Stray eyes fell upon suffering mortals; a rain of mercy embraced them in their time of need but not much more than a minute's worth, he couldn't spoil the cages of flesh even if they were creations. With all the hostility in the atmosphere, Gazee couldn't help but join the fray by sending his creatures unto the realms, there he gathered his strongest myriad of creatures. They stretched from the vicious Chimaera to the Centaur.

"Oh, what a pity, I slipped some creatures into your worlds."

[Whightwolf]

Tordal took the chalice and gazed into it for a long moment. Truth be told, he was weary, while the Gibrah had been fighting his black crusade and the Interloper had breached the walls of their reality he had been Outside, battling the cold, cold denizens of the space between the realities as they tried to attempted to fall upon this new born creation. At last he had driven them off and he was tired, still he had a duty to do. Taking a long sip of the wine the Watcher looked up at Death once more.

“None hold sway over you, you know this, I know this. But the mortals if the mortals choose to believe they have a chance of escaping you then let them, for in the end they cannot. Even this one the Interloper stayed your hand for will be yours in the end. It is not for you to write the destines only great Kamin commands the Fates. You and I are functionaries, our roles are not always pleasant ones, you think you are the only God they try to cheat? The only one who is feared? Show me an evil being who does not fear me and mine in the darkest hour of the night. True they fear you but you were never derided except perhaps out of fear. It is now they laugh, now they think you are dead that your power over them is gone.” Pausing with a long sigh Tordal looked down at the wine, when he looked up his expression was resigned. “You will of course do as you will but when you make your decision I wish only that you be looking upon one this.”

Splashing the remaining wine across a concave stone to form a shallow pool showing the reflection of the garden in all its glory. Tordal waved his hand across the pool and the vision changed. A great pit, is walls lined with the eternally dieing. Somehow their fearful, almost human moans came through with the image, a choir of the damned.

“They call it the Pit of the Restless, I can read you back their entire lives, each and every one. You and I alone, save perhaps Kamin, see every detail of their lives, every small sin or great virtue. Tell me mighty Charok, how many of them deserve that?”

[dementedmongoose]

Gibrah had killed his avatar.

He had but one thing left to do before he would be able to answer supplications and bestow blessings upon great generals. He entered the land of pestilence and disease, and requested that Gazee bless Gibrah's armies with magics of disease and pain.

[RP-Antolone]

Gazee was much too occupied to grant mere wishes, instead he invested most of his power into his own creations manifesting them with a poisonous bog which swelled around them. Pleased with his creations, he sent them to war testing their strengths against his peers' creatures, though, his own creations were nothing more than blind juggernauts with no sense of directions besides the one that went, 'kill kill kill'.

[Astral Harmony]

"Thank you for showing up on such short notice. I was hoping for a more peaceful resolution, but all I can see is a world filled with creatures that have no loyalty towards any god and would make a mockery of Kamin's creation as well as the gifts from the other gods."
One goddess, six generals, and the goddesses' "daughter" were in the single room at the biggest temple Phrayce's servants constructed on the mortal realm, either sitting at the table or standing around.

First is Budgula, an ugly creature with smooth dark green skin speckled with dark blue spots. She has six arms, and each of those massive arms ended in claws that can dismember multiple limbs in a single swipe.
Moe is a black haired noblewoman with slanted eyes and is clad in an impressive and lavish bright blue kimono. The long, wide sleeves conceal more swords than Phrayce could care to count, and Moe is somehow able to skillfully hold five swords in each of her hands, becoming a whirling nightmare as she pleased.
Daruna is an immensely powerful brown skinned catgirl who uses a large cannon in battle and also has a very large sword in case the cannon is ever destroyed in combat. After all, accidents do happen.
Maegrid is a brunette centaur clad in bright green armor who wields a lance in her right hand and a large axe in her left and can travel at great speeds to intercept enemies.
Ludo is a woman/spider hybrid who has a near insatiable appetite and usually eats anything near her that consists of meat. She rapidly produces her offspring and consumes a good number of them herself. She seems to have extremely high metabolism and can even ignore pain when a meal stands within reach.
Vitroli is the only male general who serves Phrayce, and much like Budgula uses brute strength in combination with blades to produce lethal results. The only exception is that Vitroli is handsome, bald, and his weapons aren't bio-organically attached to him.
And finally, the "daughter" Prietal seems to be a combination of a woman and a hermit crab, complete with shell and six segmented legs. There is also a set of gruesome pincers which are separate from her own arms that currently dual-wield pole maces.

"The other gods don't seem to care at all about the situation and are only interested in testing out their wonderous creations. Thus, the number of Restless are growing rapidly and I don't think the threat of eliminating their races fertility or making their females too unattractive to want to mate with would sway them in the slightest. So we're going to do what we can do and protect our people. Already we're getting sightings of strange creatures and Restless groups forming. I need something done about this and I'm counting on each one of you, myself included, to keep this land protected. Are there any questions?"
Maegrid nodded. "Why has Divine Charok abandoned us?"
Phrayce would love to know that herself. "I am not sure, though I think it may be due to some insult he received. Unfortunately, I also do not know when Charok will restore the release of death upon the world, or if he will at all. Anything else?"
Nobody else had anything to ask. Phrayce looked at each one of them and nodded. "Very good, then. Focus on keeping the enemy from increasing the number of Restless and try to stop the Restless from harming anyone by any means. You are dismissed."

[Squishy Cheeks]

"I hear they're cries never ceasing it is as nails on my mind and it breaks my heart to teach them this lesson. Perhaps it is time I returned to my task." Charok vanished like smoke into the air.

__________
He appeared outside the world as it looked like a jewel in the night. His massive form vissible as the sun and the moon. He cocked back his hand. and place Death's mask on his face with the other.

"Hear me mortals. I have returned, cower, you unworthy, and tremble as I stretch forth my hand. Know that none of you has cheated me, it is I who have cheated you." With his hand he grasped a piece of the icy dome of the heavens and dragged it across the sky in his fist, cold blue fire eminating from it. He slammed the sky rock into the oceans creating terrible flouds and clouds of darkness across the face of the world as the seas boiled and dark clouds covered all. The death dealers were released upon the world once more.

____________

As quickly as he left he returned to his realm.

"Would you like some cheese or bread, we have some wonderful chefs down here, Tordal. I could have them build you a winter home if you like?"

[Astral Harmony]

"Rain of Teeth!" shouted Phrayce and tore into one of the Restless rapidly with deadly lunges. Even when reduced to nothing but the basic parts, they still lived, and still suffered greatly. But this one didn't.
Phrayce didn't understand until she saw it happening around her. Suddenly, the Restless were dropping dead on the spot. Moe was with her on this particular battlefield. "Do you think this means?"
Charok has bestowed death back unto the world. "Oh, thank god!" Phrayce cried out, and shouts of jubilation spread out among the nearby forces. Not all was good news. Phrayce didn't have long before she encountered an elderly catgirl.

"I am sorry that your granddaughter had to die now. However, she had been dead before and was simply restored. I am afraid that I can do nothing about it, nor would I take action if I could do something about this."
Phrayce took the catgirl's hands in hers. "Regardless of the fact that her body is able to sustain her now, her soul belonged to Death when she died. He merely hasn't collected it until now. Please try to understand that he is only doing his job as commanded by Divine Charok just as I do my job when I gave your daughter the ability to give birth to her in the first place. All you can do is pray to Divine Charok to be merciful to her soul in the afterlife."

Phrayce prayed to Charok as well, and explained things to the other worshippers nearby, which somehow consisted of all six generals and her daughter. "Let us never forget the heavy burden of Divine Charok's tasks. It is an easy and wonderful task for me to grant the joy of fertility to all, just as much as the task of reaping the dead must inspire a fear and hatred of him."
Phrayce decided that she would try to get more involved with Charok, realizing that what she said was possibly true. Charok probably didn't like tearing away people from their loved ones, but as a part of the circle of life, it is a very necessary step. And he had taught that lesson by calling off his death dealers for that time. All of the generals aside from Moe had left the realm and the mortal races in particular began the task of burying all the sudden dead. Burial grounds were springing up like wildfire, many of the stones simply inscribed with race and class as there were a lot of killed Restless that couldn't possibly be identified anymore.

[Whightwolf]

Feeling a weight fall from his shoulders as Death finally returned to the world, Tordal sat down on a stone and looked around him. A paradise had been created here and the offer of a winter home was tempting, but alas he did not spend enough time in his own realm as it was.

“I am afraid I must decline your kind offers Charok and must be about my work once more. But I believe a connection between our realms would allow me to partake a moments rest from aeon to aeon. Goodbye my friend doubtless I will return.”

Expressing his thanks Tordal made his way to the edge of the garden and the silvery slash of light, with a gesture he changed it, an arch of the same dark granite as the bridge, of the same age, the same sense of fresh permanence. Nodding at his own handiwork Tordal stepped though and gathered up his Blade and strode off, vanishing into the white.

***

This time the Bridge appeared high in the mountains of his own realm. In a valley of harsh stone, lined with caves, the valley was arranged in such a way that wind flowed through it constantly no matter the weather. A single figure came forth to greet him, old and hunched came the ancient Fenreir and elder of this clan, Tordal in an instant his name was Garval. An old one of his kind, still his clawed feet found easy purchase upon the stone as he walked forth from his dwelling. Spreading his wings he leaped and seemed to change. Slow and hunched on land, in the air he still soared like an angle.

Rushing with the wind the elder came to stand before his God. Non of the Fenreir knelt, all he did was incline his predatory avian head. Once more leaning on his staff he awaited the wishes of his God.
“Garval, Elder of Clan” The screeching noise which Tordal made defies our alphabet it has more meaning than can be translated without becoming unwieldy but we shall call them the clan “Red Scar, gather your warriors we have business in the mortal realm.”

When the old Hawkman spoke it was in his own tongue of screeches and caws for beaks do not well form the words of the gods.
“As you command Lord Watcher what would you have of us?”

Tordal slowly drew his blade, it seemed to capture the light from every angle, the world reflected in it a little lighter, a little purer a little better. Swinging it round he levelled the point at the white elders heart. The elder closed his eyes, he knew what his God was doing, he could feel it, looking deep into his soul weighing and measuring every part of him. Silently the elder prayed he was not found wanting.
“Tell your people Garval, tell them they fly to War and tell them you shall lead them.” Light poured out of the blade and into the ancient one.

At first it seemed the elder had been consumed by white fire but slowly the flames died away and revealed a stooped old one no more. A head taller than his seven foot kin Garval’s white feathers shone like pearl against the inky red of the Scar like tattoos of his Clan, his eyes burned with the fire of youth and in his hand a great golden spear replaced the staff. Clad in a white kilt and a belt of gold Garval stood before him, remade, stronger than he had ever been in his true youth.

Raising his head to the sky he let out a great screeching cry. Too arms brothers.
From every cave they came forth, warriors tall in stature, each clad in a kilt and wielding a weapon, long spears were common, but as were maces, hammers and morning stars, two thirds carried also either a shield or another weapon and the last third carried the compact short bows of the Fenreir.

“Go now Garval, help the other races restore order, reward the righteous and punish the wicked.” With another great screech the Fenreir soared into the air, forming a great spear with Garval at it’s point they swept up the valley. Arcing round they came back towards Tordal a screeching lance of warriors. With a gesture Tordal opened the barriers between world and set the clan loose on the world.

[Arhra]

"Do not stand between me and my task. All that is born dies. All things come to an end, and I am that end. I will claim you too someday, if you want to prevent this mortal's death so be it. In time he will beg me to come for him. His cries will fill your ears, and without me his end will not come. Your new way is a path of cruelty. Death is a mercy I give these people. Let us see how they handle life without Death."

"If all that is comes to an end, then may even Death die?" Tcharne asked rhetorically in answer. "You may believe and do what you will, for that is your right, but you do not know me or the paths I seek. I am the Unfettered One and I call myself Tcharne. I shall live forever." Tcharne whispered as Charok departed.

The god turned and looked at the warrior who had been at the heart of the matter and gave a grand sweep of one arm, "Be whole in body once more." Bruises vanished and wounds knitted together as if they had never been. "What is your name?"

The warrior, hesitant and uncertain, spoke his name.

"No," Tcharne said gently, "You are reborn. What name do you choose for yourself?"

"I... I am sorry Great One, but I do not know. My head is spinning. Why did you save me? I cried out as I lay dying and you asked something of me, but it is all confused now. Why me?"

"Names are important things. You are right in wishing to wait. I saw in you a potential that I did not wish to see vanish. A greatness. I have freed you from the fetters of mortality so that you might develop your potential and aid me."

"I am immortal?"

"Nothing is perfect. But, essentially, yes."

"Then how may I serve you my lord?"

"Let me first explain what it is I seek. Many speak of the inevitablity of the end, a stop, a cessation. The Wheel turns and we end up exactly where we started. But what I seek is the Broken Wheel." Tcharne drew a crimson spiral in midair, "What do you see?"

The warrior's face suddenly lit with understanding, "The end never contacts the beginning. It goes on forever."

"Yes. All changing and growing, never caught in stagnation... forever. Now we must move. There are things to set into motion."

And so Tcharne swept him up in winds of magic and transported them. As the still nameless warrior watched on in amazement, Tcharne went amongst those who should be dead. Those pining for the afterlife Tcharne ignored, looking to those who had a will to live, who would struggle and survive and strive. Who would become greater than they were. Tcharne told them of changing, to not be content with an eternity of torment or empty contentment. Their souls left lifeless bodies to be born anew.

Charok made his return in thunderous dread. All Tcharne said of it to the warrior was nine sad words. "You can not captivate the hearts of men with fear."

Tcharne moved next to see Phrayce, one the newcomer god had not yet met. Winds of magic again were summoned to carry the god and the warrior. As before, feather cloaked and falcon-masked, Tcharne bowed to Phrayce and spoke, "I would speak to you of resolving the war that still rages. War without end creates nothing."

[Astral Harmony]

Moe readied ten swords when Tcharne and the nameless warrior appeared before the two of them.
"General Moe, put those away. It is Divine Tcharne."
Moe nodded, slipped the swords back, and kneeled. Phrayce bowed formally before Tcharne.
"If you sent us word ahead of your arrival, we could have prepared food and gifts." Phrayce said, smiling.

She chose her own response carefully. "I would disagree if it was just the mortals going to war, but I know now that the gods themselves are interfering in developments of the mortal races and, if I don't want to see my people destroyed utterly, I shall have to do my own part."
Phrayce then snapped her fingers and Maegrid the centaur was promptly summoned. "General Maegrid, you're with me. General Moe, I leave you in charge."

Moe bowed. "As you wish, my goddess."
Maegrid checked her armor and weapons quickly. "At your call, my goddess."
Phrayce cleansed herself of the blood she had got on herself dealing with the Restless and all the burials and prayers. "So, Divine Tcharne. What would you ask of us?"