Mythological RolePlay

[Squishy Cheeks]

"So you say there are pockets of restless survivors that have learned to hide themselves from my death dealers."

The death dealer nodded.

"As my creation, I shall name them Lichkind. Your standing orders are to kill them on sight, They are an abomination. It may be time I taught you the ways of warriors my death dealers, I feel things changing and not for the better. The outsiders wish to pollute our task, I have sole power over death, and I will not share it."

[dementedmongoose]

Gibrah had become bored with standing by, watching the fruits of his violent labors ripen and begin to rot. The Orcs and Ogres had stagnated in their bloodlust, the Minotaurs and Centaurs had fallen into pitiable infighting, the Trolls, Ettins, and Giants had retreated into caves and up to the frozen north, and the Duergar had gone into hiding, not crafting their wondrous and dark weapons, nor even fighting to save their pathetic hides, but worst of all, they'd forgotten Gibrah, and the holy crusade of their ancestors, abandoning him for more "noble" pursuits, and following kinder gods. It was time to create a general to lead his children in the perfect war, one that would never end.

Thinking long and hard, Gibrah found the answer in one particular Lich. Stepping back down to the Material, he approached this Lich, a scarred, pitted, and ruined looking man naming himself The Unforgivable. Gibrah made this Lich his personal minion, rechristened him Waer, and infused him with Gibrah's own blood.

Gibrah issued many orders to Waer: first, he was to reunite all the clans of Orc and Ogre, second, he was to reform the Minotaur Empire and the Centaurian Republic, third, he was to draw the Trolls, Ettins, and Giants back onto the battlefield. Lastly, he was to force the shamans of all races to drink Gibrah's blood, and reinfuse them with the bloodlust they'd come to this world with.

OOC: Yeah, he's more of a "make things happen, then watch them unfold" person, rather than an "interact with the other gods" person

[Astral Harmony]

"They say a few of the restless fled into an underground tomb. We intended to bury the nearby Restless down there, but came under attack. Apparently, they've gained some kind of dark power that comes with resisting the duty to perish."
General Daruna and Princess Prietal looked at each other.
"Divine Charok missed a spot?" asked Daruna.

"Gods don't make mistakes...I think," Prietal responded carefully. "Lord Charok is only one god and can't possibly watch over the entire world, especially since not everything in the world is his domain. He should have servants that harvest the souls and bring them back to him for judgment. It's likely that with the innumerable amount of Restless up until when Charok restored the concept of death unto the world, there are a few areas that his servants might not have gotten to yet, or haven't checked thoroughly enough."
Daruna looked down the steps into the tomb, the shifting darkness animated by torches dancing in circles. "That's a good point. If it was time for my soul to be ripped from my chest and I had a chance to avoid it, I'd be hiding too."

The catgirl general took several steps inside, her large cannon sitting on her shoulder, then turned back to the strange combination of a woman and a hermit crab with two large maces. "So this is the stuff that Charok's minions should be doing. Why're we going to put down these fugitives of fate?"
Prietal descended the steps toward Daruna with surprising ease given the face that she was walking on six segmented crab legs. "The responsibility for the snuffing out of lives does indeed belong to Charok's servants, but these are our people, turned insane by the pain and grief they suffered and have now sworn violent action on all who would stand in their way, even those who would know and love them. Phrayce would not ignore this. We shall not, either."

It was a small tomb, and thus relatively easy to find the lichkind that were vaguely described by some frightened villagers.
"You would try to defy death and only intend to spread your hatred and suffering upon the world." Prietal said accusingly. "Step forward and face your final deaths with dignity, or cower and be put down like dogs. The choice is yours."
"How amusing! It appears our actions displease you." The lead catlich laughed wickedly. "Perhaps you should abandon your role as the adopted daughter of Phrayce and become a gravetender, instead?"
Daruna raised her cannon without a word. Prietal whirled her twin maces and made ready. "Silence, worm!"

Several minutes with lots of multicolored flashes and sounds later, Prietal and Daruna walked out of the tomb like nothing had happened. Their task was complete, and the girls just assumed that Charok would immediately receive the unbound souls in due time.
"A lot more bark than bite, I'll say." Daruna commented.
"I am a princess of Goddess Phrayce, and you are one of her six generals. The likes of us would sooner die from consuming our own flesh than suffer a loss to lesser magical beings such as they."
"Still, they provided and important clue with their whole 'become a gravetender' idea." Daruna looked thoughtful. "If there's one place on the continent where these undead spellcasters are hiding out, there's gotta be others."
"That's a good idea." Prietal approved. "I'll talk with Phrayce when she returns. We can use the high priestesses and the temples to form an information network for pinpointing lairs for these advanced Restless. I would feel a lot better if these things weren't terrorizing the locals as soon as possible."

[Squishy Cheeks]

The dwarf kings of orged forged day and night the weapons for the death dealers, mighty enchantments of death were placed on them as well the divine metal mixed with the blood of the death dealer to wield it. They were 7 in number, a holy number.

"You are my Reapers. To you I give you providence to defend souls and death from those who would oppose us. Weach of you have assisted these mighty lords in the forging of your personal weapon that will be the badge of your station. You are the mightiest of my servants and now it is my turn to add my power to yours."

He unsheathed the first sword, a massive blade in the Zanbatou style, taller than Charok himself, and with the precision of a master he tested the blade. "This blade is keen and blanced perfectly." The blade glowed blue in his hand. "It's name is Moon Scythe. Carry her with honor, Yama." He handed the blade to a red skinned giant in white robes and black armor.

He performed the same ritual with the next sword, a skinny rapier with an elaborate hilt. The blade glowed with purple light in his hand. "This blade is called Black Rose, strike with precision, Azrael" He handed the blade to pale woman with blue-black hair, she was beatiful to behold.

Again he tested the next weapon, a set of short scythes similar to those used by farmers. The blades glowed with a red light. "These are the twin blades known as the Black Rabbit Scythes. Cut true, Inlé" He handed the blade to a Short man in white clothes and a black scarf around his head.

Next he tested a Naginata style blade that glowed with orange light. "This is Fire Talon, Defend the innocent, Enma." A black skinned ogre in a white toga stepped forward and cllaimed the weapon with a bow.

He held aloft a massive club, studded with spikes. The club crackled with yellow electricity. "This is Thunder Breaker, Crush the unworthy, Ankou"
A human in white monk style robes claimed the weapon and bowed.

He tested the next weapon, a saber with a skeletal hand gaurd. The blade glowed a sickly green "This blade is Deadly Viper Fang, be merciful Surma." A skinny looking girl in a simple white dress took the blade and bowed.

The last weapon was a Battle Axe with a skull motif. The blade was black as night and seemed to absorb the light. "Executioner Song is the name of this weapon. Bring Justice, Mors" The last weapon was claimed by a Godling who was the spitting image of Charok save for short black hair on his head versus the long White hair of Charok. Mors bowed to his adopted father. He wore White robes similar in cut to those of Charok.

"We will not fail you my lord." Mors said.

"Bring an end to the Lichkind my reapers, hunt them down to the last."

[dementedmongoose]

Gibrah was pleased with Waer's performance as a prophet. So pleased that he decided he should empower more. Gibrah decided to empower eight more, one for each race, with Waer to lead. So he had Waer seek out three of the most violent, stubborn, wicked human Liches, and feed each of them a portion of Waer's blood. Waer would have power over them, and they would control the Orcs, Ogres, and Duergar. Gibrah himself empowered the other five, one from each of the Minotaurs, Centaurs, Giantkin, Trolls, and Ettins, and elevating them to nearly the same status as Waer's own, forming them into a democratic council known as The Council, with Waer as leader, and Gibrah coming in only to break split votes. Gibrah had heard of the new Death Dealers that Charok had empowered, and knew he would not be able to fight them off, so he instead decided to broker a deal for his prophets.

Gibrah entered the realm of the Death, and approached Charok, offering ritual sacrifices from all of his children, in exchange for amnesty for the prophets.

[Squishy Cheeks]

"You feed my realm well, as it is in your nature, but your races praise me for giving them purpose. The lichkind are remnants of my actions, You say you want eight, but where does the line stop. There will be no compromise. Train them in the arts of war and see if the are a match for my reapers who are trained in the arts of death. Would not that battle please you?"

[Arhra]

OOC: Uh, some slightly awkward timing in the talk with Phrayce as I want to have some other things done after getting the reply. You know, things to do, faith to spread.

"So, Divine Tcharne. What would you ask of us?" Phrayce

Tcharne interlocked long fingers, "I am but new arrived here. My realm is small and few worship me. There are many things I must attend to so that I might establish myself better. However, I believe that an alliance of gods could step in to end wars that rage overlong or spread too far. I mean to recruit some towards that end. But, for now, I would ask only your friendship and your blessing, that my worshippers might prosper and multiply."

On receiving Phrayce's reply, Tcharne returned to Kul Tcharuk, the nameless warrior awed at the beautiful, otherworldly landscape where only strange mists dwelled. The only structure was a single narrow tower, seeming as if it had grown from the earth and rising to a tip like a closed flower's bud.

"This is Kul Tcharuk." the Falcon-Sorceror told him. "It is small and barren for it is only yet newborn, but in time it will grow and flourish with life. Here your training will begin." A single attenuated digit indicated where a rock, a night black heap of stone that squatted toad-like, sat. "Move that boulder to outside the door of the tower." The warrior nodded and set to work with a will.

Tcharne left the warrior and then moved through the lands, looking for those seeking escape or searching for a purpose. Tcharne offered it to them, bidding them gather to be welcomed into Kul Tcharuk. The Dancer Beyond the Stars flitted through the world like one in a dream, studying the beasts and trees that Kul Tcharuk might be barren of life no longer. Knowledge Tcharne planted into the minds of those with the talents of magic, opening them to seek the waiting god and with their own bargains have new sorceries granted to them. Lastly, Tcharne sought those who had the rare gifts so that the number of the Interloper's closest disciples might increase from one.

[dementedmongoose]

Gibrah thought for a moment before responding. "I ask for nine. Eight to lead each of my races, and one to lead the eight. The line will stop with the nine I have. This battle you speak of would greatly entertain me, but it occurs to me that you only have seven of these more powerful Death Dealers, whereas I have nine Liches. I've got the advantage. However, you do have a demigod in your seven, so I suppose it's even. Let us make a further wager. If my nine prevail, I take the ability to put souls into fallen members of my army, and they will fight for me. If you win, you get my orcs. It seems a fair wager."

[Squishy Cheeks]

"Indeed. I accept your terms, shall we set this up like a formal duel and name a time and place, or do we let this thing happen naturally and wait for both sides to meet?"

[dementedmongoose]

"I would prefer the carnage of letting them meet, but there's no honor in allowing a wager to play out like that, so let us make it a duel. Allow me some time to properly arm and train my prophets, and we shall work out a place for this duel." With that, Gibrah left the realm of the dead, hindered only when Thulsa recognized him and begged for mercy. Gibrah shook off the old fool, and returned to the material to acquire the best metals his Duergar had mined out. He then took Waer and the other Lich-prophets to the realm of Gil'nah, along with the metals, and personally forged for them suits of armor, lighter than their clothes, but more powerful than steel.

He then crafted for each of them a pair of weapons, one longsword and one steel staff for each of the Men, made of dark obsidian and enruned with powerful prayers to Gibrah, offering Gibrah's personal protection to whomever wields them.

For the Minotaur, he created a pair of obsidian greataxes, carrying greater magicks to make them light enough to be held in one hand as effectively as with two, and were further magicked that they could be thrown at a foe and would return, even if they were buried into solid rock.

The Giant was given two greatswords, with the same lightness magicks as were found in the Minotaur's axes.

The Troll and Ettin were given two obsidian spiked clubs apiece. For the Centaur, he gave a bow, with the strength to pierce a Rock Golem, but light enough to be pulled back with alost no effort, and a quiver that was always full of flaming arrows that exploded shortly after impact.

Waer was given the greatest weapon of all. For him, a black scimitar, made of obsidian, cooled in Gibrah's own blood, giving the wielder a direct mental link to the god of war. The second weapon was a longsword, made of a single piece of molten glasssteel, infused with the blood of Gibrah, giving an otherwise perfectly clear blade a veined and evil look. Gibrah plucked out his own eye and put it into the hilt, so that he would always be watching his most favored servant's back