Fantasy A World Forsaken

[The True Plague]

"..." If not for the mask over his face, his fellow gods would've seen many emotions fight for dominance. Grief, longing, sorrow. All emotions he felt listening to Pauper speak. Even a bit of understanding. He mourned at those words, for they reminded him of a time long past. When once, he too wished for the mortals to be happy, to have a reason to smile during the God War. However, Pauper's final sentence was something he understood too well.

A sentence that, when combined with the words of Altaqula... Caused new emotions to surface. Anger, hatred, disgust even. A feeling that only grew with Severed Heaven's words, and did not change with the Reaper's opinion. If not for the fact Utos answered his questions, he'd likely have flown completely off the handle here. Alas, Utos has done nothing to deserve the bitter poison he wished to spew that some would call words. No, he'd save that for after he acknowledges Utos' words.

"Then, that is rather unfortunate. If we are to believe it is only those of us here today that remains..." Ultio fell silent, joining both the Reaper and Utos' gazes at the empty seats around the table. There he sat for a few minutes, allowing that hateful feeling grow within him. A feeling that he'd have denied place within himself during the war, but one he found necessary in this age. Loathing. Yes, loathing. He hated what the other gods have said thus far.

One might imagine that the sight of the Artefact might shake him out of it. That such a shocking scene would remove that anger to make way for concern. Given the sound of fist hitting marble as he stood, one would be very wrong. Even as he winced in pain, Ultio would turn his gaze not at the artefact, but the ones who had answered his question.

"You think you've earned a peaceful end? What of your followers, who even in a time where their belief means meeting ends I once wouldn't have wished on my worst enemies, still believe? Is it merely their loss, for believing in us when we were clearly never worthy to begin with? What of those we've lost? Were they unworthy of a peaceful end amongst their fellows? Were they unworthy to choose how things end?"

"I also find it funny. Oh. So. Funny!" He'd punctuate that last word with another slam of a fist upon marble. "That you seem to show care that YOU got to do your works. You each have work to be proud of, have had time to sow the seeds so that you may reap the fruits of your labor. Let me ask of you older gods then, what of me and mine?" Perhaps a bit overdramatically, he'd look from one side of the room to the other. "For all I see, are gods who each had a hand in the destruction of that golden age I only ever got to hear of in tales! Be it through active participation, or choosing to sit out on the sidelines. What of the gods born during the war, my brothers and sisters who never had a chance to begin their works? Those who never stood a chance in the world you made for us?!"

"You show care for the world for the mortals, but not your fellow divines." Given where he was looking, Ultio was addressing Severed Heaven specifically. In another time, he likely wouldn't have the gall, but now? It was hard to stop spewing his hatred now that it's begun. "Tell me, how many of the few gods born during the war did you slay personally?" Now his gaze returns to the center of the table, where what once was the artefact remains. "How many gods do we spit upon the grave of, by choosing to let this be the end? Would those we lost, have been content to allow ourselves to cease to be? We still exist. We are the ones who lived damn it!" He went to slam his fist upon the marble again, but alas he doubled up in pain. He'd allow himself to slump back onto his throne, blood feeling as if it were on fire.



"Why should we just accept fading away? You all had your time in the sun, and yet by your choices me and those born during YOUR war will never get that chance. The artefact we collaborated on is destroyed, the contract we made is ending. Now, I get to be the last of the gods to be born that yet lives, so that I can watch those who ruined the world for me and them choose to peacefully fade away?" The anger was dying away, replaced instead with... Sadness. If he were still the child he was during the war, he'd likely openly weep.



"I thought that the one who embodied betrayal was gone, yet clearly they still live in each of you."

Juju Arai Sunsmiter ThatWhichShouldBe AiDEE-c0 @ Anyone who wants to react to Ultio's words.

 

[Solirus]

Guardian gave one final nod to Utos before retreating his hand, "I shall remember you... and I shall miss you..." turning around, Guardian started walking back, halting his movement as the artefact was presented. Even through all the years eating away at his memories, he could still remember the artefact clearly. What stood before all the gods present, was far from his memories.

Had it been targeted? Was it truly due to withering? Was it worn out due to fulfilling it's purpose for long enough? Such questions surged inside of Guardians on head, before being interrupted by Ultio speech, which he now was paying clearer attention to. With every word, with every declaration, Guardian could feel the frustration and anger like a putrid stench, but his words also held a strange familiarity to Guardian.

Guardian slowly started walking towards Ultio as he fell silently. Arriving to him, he calmly placed his hand on the gods shoulder, first maintaining silence at the saddened god. "I have no plans to fade and peacefully accept this present... I wish to see the world returned... to it's former beauty... to atone for my failures... so that you and many others may not simply survive... but live" Guardian carefully removed his hand from the gods shoulder.

His attention turned to all the Gods in the table, "This reunion... has perhaps been of help to me... for while I stand at the edge... I feel an aching within me... one that has awoken me from my waking slumber... and I realize that Utos would not have brought us here simply to grieve of what once was." His sights turned to Utos, awaiting a response.

ThatWhichShouldBe The True Plague Sunsmiter Arai Barbas seasonedcat Rust Zenritch AiDEE-c0 palmtree219 SirDerpingtonIV Historia Calamatium Juju

 

[jmann]

Tes-Nenet
Words flew past Tes-Nenet's mind, their meaning lost in a fog of sorrow and memories. The many gods she had once loved had passed from the world, leaving a handful left she felt she could trust. Now Utos was passing too. It was not fair. Why did she have to endure loss and sacrifice on a level unknown to any other? Why did she have to be cursed with the fondness for mortals, monstrous flaws and all. A force tugged tighter at her heart as she looked onto Utos. It would have been easier for him to pass now, rather than live his remaining days a hollow shell. Why should he be punished for dedicating his entire existence to the protection of the most sacrosanct Artefact.

Tes-Nenet had endured the past centuries in stoic silence, letting nobody affect her resolve to protect those she held dear. Now the universe had told her in no uncertain terms that her efforts were without meaning. Worse still was the reveal of the faded and corrupted Artefact. The thing that prevented the entire world from being swallowed up by the Withering. One question orbited her mind, one she was too scared to address: What had Udreus died for? He had died to protect the world from the Withering and Tes-Nenet had convinced herself that his sacrifice had helped buy enough time for the Artefact to be created. Was his sacrifice only worth the few centuries the artefact had lasted? What would become of his memory now? She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Every fibre of her being wished nothing less than to curse the cosmos that birthed them. But that, too, would be without meaning. Perhaps she should finally stop running; let the Inquisition slay life itself and discover what, if any, consequences would befall them.

They were entertaining fantasies. Of course Tes-Nenet could not simply let herself perish. There were people who needed her and as much as it pained her to admit it, she could not bare the thought of leaving them with even one less —
The slam of a fist rocketed Tes-Nenet out of her mind and into the present. Anger and sorrow spewed from the mouth of Ultio Nothus, a dark god born from tragedy. Ultio had been forced to come of age all too quick, never getting the chance to explore a young universe as many of Tes-Nenet's peers had. She often forgot he was only a child by comparison and had never seen the war with the same eyes Tes-Nenet had. She had mourned his generation, but she had never fought for it. Likewise, she had mourned Guardian's ailment and though she looked for a cure, she had not had the strength to fight for it. Perhaps what she needed was the will to stand up for what she believed in. She had spent the entire duration of the war preventing as much death as possible just to lose it all anyway.

"I would hope Ultio would remember that there is no defeating the Withering. It is indiscriminate and entirely without mercy. If we are to save to save our universe and bring upon the new age of gods, there better be a bloody good plan."

---

Juju Solirus The True Plague

 

[Zenritch]

Marzena | Mare

Marzena had maintained her silence throughout the revelations Utos presented to them. Even when the table devolved into chaos as gods began arguing, one persistent thought kept echoing in the goddess' mind. "What about Einar?". If Utos is gone, then there would be nobody left to care for him. The thought of him being discovered while she was out in the world filled her with dread. If those insolent bastards from the Inquisition were to get a hold of him, they would clearly kill him for sure... and when that happens, scouring the world for where his body would be reborn would be akin to searching for a needle in a haystack, except the haystack covered the world. Then there was the issue of the spell holding. If he were to die, she wasn't sure whether he'd still be affected by it when he reincarnated. If the spell failed, and he's still littered with corruption, Marzena wouldn't have enough power to perform Eternal Sleep all over again. Thus, the only option the other gods would surely come to a consensus with would be to kill him... just as they killed Shiie.

Marzena glanced momentarily at the most notorious killer of their kin, the one called Severed Heaven. She had heard the tales of countless of their brethren falling in battle through his blade. Truly, it had been a fortune that he did not attack Oniria during the war, or else she doubted that even Einar could have stopped him. Even in their current state, she was certain that he wouldn't hesitate to kill Einar if it came to that.

Marzena slowly approached Utos and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Seeing him up close, she could definitely see how much he had deteriorated since he last saw her 50 years ago. Just as he had mentioned, there was no way any of them could make it in time to stop his last worshipper's execution, so this would probably be the last time she'd see him.

"Thank you for protecting Einar all these years. I wish you a gentle passing, old friend. The mortals know not the loss they incurred when they decided your fate." was all the gentle words Marzena could offer before she returned to her seat.

She listened more as Ultio gave a rousing speech, which deep inside, she agreed with. While the others have lost the will to live, and were content to fade as the last of their worshippers were hunted down like dogs by the Inquisition, she definitely thought otherwise. There was so much more she needed to accomplish, and she had just been informed that her safety net was about to perish.

"While some of you may be contented in your "retirement", I refuse to go quietly into the night and wait for that damned Inquisition to snuff the last of my followers." Marzena said as she stood from her seat, the flames of determination brightly flickering in her eyes. "Brothers and sisters, our lives are no longer our own the moment "they" decided to exterminate our worshippers like vermin. If you have resigned yourselves to your fate, then I implore you to track down your remaining followers and make them stop your worship altogether. There is no meaning in allowing your followers to get killed by the Inquisition if you have already chosen stagnation and death. Otherwise, you are purposefully misplacing and betraying their faith."

Marzena paused for a moment as she heard Tes-Nenet's words. The Withering, the ultimate enemy of gods and men, has all but destroyed the artefact they have sacrificed so much for to create. Looking at its state now, she understood how it could inspire despair to her brethren. But just as Einar had not once given up on her, she refused to believe that the Withering is the unstoppable force they perceive it to be.

"How much do we know of the Withering to begin with? Do we know exactly when it started? How it began? If we could trace its origins, then we'll have a clearer idea about our enemy, and hopefully how to effectively counter it. I realize that this effort may be futile, but it certainly beats waiting for the end to come for us all. I'd rather die trying to beat it than perish knowing I did nothing." She argued defiantly.

Deep inside, she had more selfish reasons behind her determination. Chiefly of these was her desire to cure Einar and wake him from Eternal Sleep. But what is a god but selfishness incarnate?

"S̵u̶c̶h̴ ̴h̷u̵b̸r̴i̸s̶!̸ ̷W̶h̵y̷ ̷d̷o̷ ̴y̸o̶u̵ ̶k̴e̴e̵p̸ ̸t̸r̶y̶i̸n̸g̴ ̷s̴o̷,̷ ̷w̷h̵e̵n̵ ̶y̸o̶u̴ ̶k̴n̸o̷w̷ ̵i̶t̸'̶s̸ ̴h̶o̸p̵e̷l̴e̴s̴s̷?̵ ̷W̴h̶e̵t̴h̸e̸r̷ ̶i̵t̸ ̶b̸e̵ ̶i̴n̸ ̸t̵h̶e̴ ̸h̶a̶n̴d̵s̵ ̶o̸f̷ ̸t̵h̵e̴ ̴I̵n̷q̴u̵i̸s̶i̸t̵i̸o̵n̵,̴ ̶a̸ ̵f̵e̵l̵l̸o̴w̷ ̴g̷o̴d̶,̶ ̴o̵r̶ ̶t̷h̸e̶ ̷W̷i̷t̵h̸e̸r̵i̸n̸g̷ ̶i̸t̸s̷e̶l̵f̴,̶ ̷y̶o̶u̸r̴ ̴f̴a̴t̶e̵ ̷h̷a̷s̸ ̷b̸e̵e̶n̸ ̸d̵e̵c̴i̵d̵e̴d̷ ̴a̴l̴l̴ ̴t̷h̸e̴ ̵s̶a̵m̴e̸.̸ ̷B̶u̵t̷ ̴b̴y̵ ̶a̵l̷l̷ ̷m̵e̵a̵n̶s̶,̵ ̸t̷r̶y̴ ̷t̷o̴ ̴r̵e̷b̸e̴l̵.̴ ̵I̵t̶'̴s̸ ̸m̶u̸c̷h̵ ̷m̸o̴r̵e̷ ̴e̸n̸t̸e̷r̷t̶a̶i̴n̷i̸n̶g̶ ̴w̷h̷e̴n̷ ̷y̷o̵u̸ ̷s̶n̷u̸f̷f̴ ̷h̵o̸p̴e̶ ̴a̶f̵t̵e̴r̵ ̴t̵r̶y̸i̷n̵g̴ ̸s̸o̴ ̸h̶a̷r̵d̶.̴ ̵"

Spoiler: Non Cray-cray text

Such hubris! Why do you keep trying so, when you know it's hopeless? Whether it be in the hands of the Inquisition, a fellow god, or the Withering itself, your fate has been decided all the same. But by all means, try to rebel. It's much more entertaining when you snuff hope after trying so hard.

Marzena could feel the Voice taunting her again, but at that moment, she refused to let it get to her. She knew her fellow gods well and a moment of weakness could result in losing the authority and respect she had cultivated all these centuries.

"We may be clueless at the moment, but the same could not be said for mankind. For all we know, our salvation could lie in the knowledge they've gathered all these years."

 

[AiDEE-c0]

𝕻𝖆𝖚𝖕𝖊𝖗

​

Pauper listened absently to Ultio's words. The opinions of the gods, the holding on to fading glory, even the current state of the Artifact all seemed to confirm her feelings. In the end, being a God meant nothing special. It was merely a mantle, a profession they hadn't asked for, which for its functionality required a strong and healthy ego. The youngest god had to be pitied. His refusal to acknowledge reality resembled the anger of orphaned children, who cursed the world for their misfortune—weeping hot tears over the lot they were given. She wished to comfort him, but he was still a divinity, and it would be an unsolicited effort.

". . ."

The goddess of poverty ruminated, disconnected thoughts rushing through her mind like errant currents. What was she meant to feel at this moment? She had only caused harm with her existence, surely she shouldn't even have a say in the future of the world. Drip, Drip. . . The sound of the water took away her ability to recognize her body. Why was she expected to be angry? Why did divine providence have to be so painful? The wet fabric had grown warm. It stuck to her face like sweat—sticky, repulsive. Truthfully, she had no idea what to do. What would her sister want of her? Wouldn't it be merely to smile?

Pauper's heartbeat grew louder. In order to calm herself, she focused on Marzena's words as she began to speak, only for her heart to sink entirely. How could she not have realized? All this time, hiding away in damp caves and saving up coins to buy pastries. . . Chasing her own happiness, had she been a murderer? Without warning, the girl started from her chair. Standing wordlessly, her hands were shaking, her eyes wide and her pupils tiny. Though beautiful things were not allowed to fade away, she herself was ugly. If she had already done so, none of her believers would have had to suffer, nobody would have died by the sword like her beloved older sister. Uneasily, she opened her mouth.

"Mar... Marzena is right. . . Pauper will... Pauper will go now."

After all, even her continued existence had been decried by the universe. Her wishes; those that she barely even recognized; were irrelevant. If only she could see her smile again in oblivion. . .

"It was always Pauper's duty. To relieve the pain of the suffering."

 

[palmtree219]

Aisyr​

Guardian’s state was worse than Aisyr had feared. She had hoped that her chatter would at least draw a glimmer of happiness or an iota of nostalgia, but it seemed that she was destined to fail. At least for now.

“I don’t believe… my current capacities allow me to care about your stories.” The words struck her more than she cared to admit, and her chatter faltered, then faded. With a frown marring her face, Aisyr moved to pat the larger god on the shoulder, only to stop when Guardian began quarrelling with a cute three-eyed cat that had, at some point, wandered over to them.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Aisyr retreated from her seat and its occupant, choosing instead to greet most of the new arrivals, flitting between seats and giving out hugs where they would be accepted, while ignoring the open seat that she could take. She took an extra moment with both Granny Tes and Grampa Grimm to tell them about her recent adventure, before turning her attention to Utos, who finally decided it was time to speak.

Her good mood at the reunion was utterly crushed as the Gatekeeper’s words washed over her like an angry tide. Four more of her family dead, without her even catching the slightest word of it till now. And Utos himself, apparently on the verge of his final death. For the first time in over a century, Aisyr froze up completely, nearly tripping, caught as she was skipping from Grimm’s seat towards Marzena’s.

The room erupted into shouts and questions. She let it all wash over her as well, instead spending the time looking from each god to the next, making sure to etch their faces into her memory, in case more were to disappear when she wasn't looking.

Aisyr flinched back into the moment as she registered Pauper’s words, quickly going back over the words that were spoken as she was distracted.

“P-Pauper! No!” She shot over towards the smaller god and spread her arms out from her sides, attempting to block Pauper from leaving. Then, her head snapped over towards Marzena. “Sister! Please, watch what you speak of. No one here is just… giving up. Not if I have anything to say about it. That just can’t be an option!”

She turned now to Utos. “You’re sure there’s nothing to be done? If.. if I could gather enough of my old power, I could try sending a message to an adventurer in Ylares, send them on a quest to save your last worshipper. If you all lend me your strength, surely I could get a message through,” she pleaded, anger, grief, and fear plain on her face.

“Brothers, sisters, Granny Tes, Grampa Grimm, please, don’t just give up! Especially with the Artifact gone. We have a duty to the mortals, to this world, to one another. Little brother Ultio isn’t that wrong, even if his words were spoken in the most confrontational way he could manage. We cannot just… fade away, not now, when this world needs us more than ever."

ThatWhichShouldBe The True Plague Sunsmiter Arai Barbas seasonedcat Rust Zenritch AiDEE-c0 SirDerpingtonIV Historia Calamatium Juju Solirus

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

FORGEFATHER
​

With burning feet, the Blind Smith wandered across the barren landscape. The sun shown high, and Bari's old injuries still simmered, the Corruptants' touch forever leaving him burned. The walk had been unpleasant, for all the years that it had lasted. Coming out of the Northeastern Wastes, coming across the frozen North, crossing through the Frozen Peaks, and heading south-east. Home. Or.. towards the direction. The world had grown stranger in recent times, through the time that he had been walking. Some Inquisition had come to power across the lands, and they were hostile to the Gods. Bari didn't quite know why, or how even. Ordinarily such people would not even be worth consideration, but they spoke of dead Gods and a world upturned, which worried him. Of course, those Bari had met, he had either evaded or killed.

Yet, despite having survived, things did little to improve for Bari. The Walk was exhausting, and having to evade people, alongside beasts - the walk was exhausting. It didn't help that despite the years that had passed, Bari still struggled without sight. Misplaced footfalls on the path led to injury, stepping on wrong objects, walking into objects. It was all a constant pain. To live as a Mortal was one thing, to live as a Mortal without sight; another.

The Forgefather stopped, unable to walk much farther. Each breath came heavy, the weight of the brass and iron adorning his body growing too heavy once more. Bari bent over, handso n his knees, coughing and hacking. It was dry, ragged, and yet still, something came from within, splattered across the ground. The former God groaned, a burning in his throat. It felt now, as if he was dying. As if the Corruption had, after all these years, claimed him.

Bari was pulled from such thoughts by the humming, the chiming, of the Key. Yes, the Key. Bari remembered it still, remembered having met the Council before. The Forgefather reached down, pulled the small item from a pocket within the leather apron he wore. He raised it up, burnt, calloused fingers clutching it still, before he dropped it to the ground. The magical hum of the door opened forth, and Bari lacked the strength to move. His knees buckled.

In the Room of the Council, Bari fell to the floor. A heavy sound, metal clanging against the floor as the Forge-God lie there, breathing. The realm was silent - or at least, more quiet than it had been before, filled with music and such. "Greetings Kin-Gods," wheezed Bari from the floor, lying bloody and exhausted on the floor.

 

[ThatWhichShouldBe]

Severed Heaven

---

Severed Heaven nods at Baris. The Forge-God had always been a strange, and curious thing. He gestures over to the broken, rusted artifact with a finger, for Baris to see, before the War God stands and begins to speak. There's something old, and once dead, entering Severed Heaven now. Something that the assembled Gods had not heard from Severed Heaven, perhaps, in an age. The heat of the War-God's voice, that great and terrible passion that had once moved Severed Heaven to slaughter gods and angels and mortals alike, in the pursuit of all he desired. Channeled and directed towards a purpose, yes. Like a finely-forged blade being drawn.

But even so, a naked edge was no less dangerous, and it is old memories that Severed Heaven evokes now. Old memories of a world aflame, of those desperate days of forging the artifact before the Corruption claimed them all.

"We swore together to end our war. Not for vengeance. Not for our pride. But because we put world entire before ourselves. The forging of the Artifact may well have killed us, lest ye forget, but we chose to do it anyway. For the sake of this World, and all its mortals. And now the Artifact shatters and breaks. And now, before long... the Corruption may well return."

He looks to Utos, before looking to Aisyr.

"It is too late for Utos, Aisyr. But it is not too late for the rest of us. Once... He passes, we must take the artifact. And as the Artifact is decaying, we must gain the power once again to repair it. To reforge it.

Alone, we will not be enough. We will be hunted by the Inquisition, picked off one by one, and hauled to some prison to be tortured for the rest of our days. I suspect that more than a few of our missing comrades met such a fate, and must be freed."

Left unsaid is 'it's what I would do, if I were them.'

"We must find those mortals who still resist the Inquisition; and yes, they do exist. And we offer them the aid we have not given them in the past 50 years."

 

[Historia Calamatium]

SEN'ARRIC

​

Khirin frowned as his hands tapped the circular table he sat at with his brethren. He was trying his best to conceal his rage at the news of Utos' impending passing.

He was angry at the unfairness of it all. At his compatriot's acceptance of oblivion as if it were a forgone conclusion and not something that could be prevented. At his acceptance of the death of an innocent who's only crime was that they placed their faith in a coward. Most of all he was angry at his own impeding demise, which seemed all but inevitable either via withering or an inquisition purge. But he was always good at channeling his anger into being productive.

"You'll forgive me old friend if I don't offer my condolences until after we've exhusted every option to save you. May the withering take you if you're interested in dying. Or better yet let me strike you down right now. But do not speak of your situation as if it were as inevitable as the rising of the sun. When your light fades it will because you could nothing to prevent it not because you threw your hands up and proclaimed your work finished as an innocent dies in your name."

Sen'arric could not keep his anger in check. He would've been content with living a peaceful life if it had been permitted but knowing he could do something to atone for his sins. For the blood that now coated his forearms. He would not sit by and do nothing if he could do something. He was glad that he was not alone in this sentiment.

"My dear little god of vengeance if you're hoping to find likeminds in my brothers and sisters your attempts will be in vain. If there is one thing my generation is great at is our ability to be both self centered and cowardly. See how they shift to their own survival and to delay their own deaths after being told that one of their fellows faces the abyss?" Sen'arric proclaimed as his voice cracked. Anger once again bubbling to the surface. His eyes reflecting a challenge to all who sat with him.

"And you who has spilled more godly blood than even I, who are you to say anyone is beyond help?" Sen'arric diverted his attention now to Severed Heaven. "Do not mistake your callousness and selfishness for pragmatism. You speak only of self preservation. Only of saving you."

Sen'arric had always hated bureaucracy. It was time consuming and offered little solutions especially amongst the gods who believed their approach was the best approach. They'd probably be here hours debating and arguing but for Sen'arric. For the god of strength the time for talk has long since passed.

"Utos send me back. I don't want to spend your final moments rubbing shoulders with cowards and bystanders." Sen'arric stood up from his seat. "If you won't step in then I gladly will in the name of protecting innocents."

 

[Arai]

Altaqula

Goddess of the Water

-ANGRY- Solirus Historia Calamatium Zenritch The True Plague - DIVINE FORM

Altaqula stood, and the waters of the temple stood with her, violent waves lapping the steps of the structure and disrupting the tranquility of the lake around the group. She scowled at the assembled, hands pressed harshly against the table, and glared at some of their number. Some could be excused for their opinons, the validity of them. But she was too old to sit and be insulted, by beings that , while intelligent, were too eager to let their sphere's of divnity rule their actions. A show of strength was required. The human shaped form peeled away like sea foam, and a spout of water erupted from her chair. In it's place was a much taller woman, towering over the majority of the assembled, with deep black hair and a pale gray skin. Scars and cracks and injuries littered her body, and every breath was a pain. But Altauqla needed to be heard, to be seen, and this was the best way to get what she wanted.

"I AM NOT A TRAITOR" She boomed, glaring at her Ultio, then at Sen'arric. "AND I AM NOT A COWARD. AND I AM CERTAINLY..." she paused, and took a breath, her form shrinking slightly. "I'm not content to retire," she finished, looking with some sadness at Marzena. She stood from her place, touching Guardian's shoulder as she passed and squeezing it. TIme was they had been steadfast friends, siblings of the world itself. Now she felt like the antique in the room. "I'm afraid," She admitted. "The last time we disresepected each other like this, threw accusations at each other, let our powers control us, we ruined this world, and landed ourselves in this position,"

She closed her eyes for a second, and twisted her arm to show her palm. Along her forearm was several snaking lines of deep crimson, at odds with the rest of her appearance. They seemed to writhe and branch off like twisted flowers, until the abruptly stopped at her elbow. Those with the memory or experience would recognise it as the withering, and to her knowledge, Altaqula was the divine being assembled that had fallen furthest to it that lived still. "The withering isn't a sickness, you don't feel like it's killing you," She started, flexing her hand. It still hurt. "It feels incredible. It's a rush of power and strength and passion, and it fools you into thinking that you are the only true force of power in the world, unconquerable,"

In the past, Altaqula had remembered encountering the withering some time after an alliance with Severed Heaven, after hearing some warnings from the others about the threat it posed. And, in hubris, had elected to stop it herself. The sea was vast and mighty, it could take in anything that threatened it and survive. But the withering was something else. After she had fallen, the sea had become an impassible and violent storm for years on end, with her at the center, revelling in the fury and the rage and the blood. She had no idea how she was eventually stopped, only that she had woken on a beach surrounded by her kin. But the scars had never healed. Of course she was afraid to wake those powers again. "I worry that now it's even more addictive in our twilight. Because we are in our twilight," she pointed out with a pause. No use denying that.

She tried to address the assembled. She couldn't breath anymore, and could feel blood on her face, a deep black ichor. "I don't want to survive, because I beleive my fate is deserved. And I would say for several of this council that they also deserve this fate. We are serving penance for our actions. I'm sorry you didn't cause these problems Ultio, and I'm sorry but you yourself embody vengeance. On some level, you are born out of this hatred and guilt. It's unfair, but it's how the currents have flowed. But we cannot..." She stopped and coughed violently, spilling more ichor. Point made, what remained of her divine form melted away, back to the comfortable skin of her mortal identity. She grabbed her cane to steady herself, wiping her mouth.

"We cannot do anything with the same vigor and might that we used to. What followers we have would suffer for it. We have to play the inquisitions game, act with intelligence, not strength," She said, with some regret. "I would daresay those relcutant to help also feel guilty, tired, or something else that warrants their choice. Just as I wouldn't dare fault those wishing to fight for their followers. It's noble," She continued. "I would gladly join those who wish to stop the withering, but cannot afford accusations and disrespect and bravado anymore. I beg the assembled to show some respect to one another, because if we don't? If we act without thought and to spite our fellows? We'll just be making things worse,"

 

[Sunsmiter]

The Reaper​

This time, Death’s grin was cold. And bitter. “Oh, believe me, I would not wish for any of you to fade away peacefully, to give up your struggle. Go on, rage against your death. It is what the mortals have always done with me. The mortals still yet remember, although they try to forget.”
THEY STILL YET REMEMBER OUR BLADE. SOON WE WILL REMIND THEM.
For a moment the thoughts that were not his seems to catch the old god off-guard, empty robes fluttering just a tad spectral for a moment as false memories vied for attention.
“Perhaps this is what it feels like to end. But none of you would know, of course. I can tell you, for today is not our end.”
Perhaps none can return from the oblivion where all gods go when they die. And perhaps those who do, sincerely wish they hadn’t.
The gods did not need to know when they will end, when the final candles are snuffed out.
“And believe me. I have spent my unlife hunting those who will not pass willingly. And of course. Every life crumbles. Every empire decays. So fight while you still can.”
Again, his callous, indifferent stare, empty without even eyesockets in his divine form. “This is not my end. We will refuse to allow it to be.”
The Reaper did not seem to notice how his robes, once more, flickered spectral.
At Aisyr’s words, his robes once more flickered back to full color, blackness spreading like ink from his invisible grin. His stare seemed far less callous when turned upon the adventurer’s goddess.
“There’s no need to worry. I am the god of death, whose worshippers fight the most vehemently against the end.” He shrugs, almost mischievously. “Why would I peacefully fade into the void?”
YES. WE WILL DIE IN BONES AS WE WERE ONCE UNBORN.
Oh, quiet, you. However annoying the Church of the Candlelight may be, the Reaper wanted nothing more than to forget they existed, especially right now.
"Perhaps we are little more than living corpses-"
WE WILL DIE. IT WILL BE GLORIOUS.
Quiet. You.
"- but we still owe our worshippers. We owe them for their faith if nothing else. I visited the Garden of Bones only a decade ago, you know. They had fled from the Inquisition, from me, from all the sins of the past to run into the endless depths where even I would not tread."
Because there were...things down there in the dark. Unliving things. Things that should not be. The land where the dead breath for the living.
"We at least owe it to them to try. It is not as if we have anything more to lose."

 

[The True Plague]

Ultio sat upon his throne, slumped over slightly as he waited for the reaction to his words. Did he go too far? Did he go far enough? Was his hope that the other gods would agree with him misplaced? Only time woul- Ah, Guardian was approaching. The God of Vengeance did his best to straighten up as he approached. As he saw a hand approach, he almost lifted his own... But chose to drop it instead. Something about that calmness... It was reassuring. The words spoken helped with his choice to not smack away the hand.

"... The Withering." Ultio stated simply, glancing between Tes-Nenet and Mare as he decided to give it some thought. "I can't say when it started, I don't think any of us can. I can say, it seemed to get quite noticeable after the Yolan incident. If that's right, there is at least an obvious way to slow it, if not reverse it." He'd place his hands together in front of him, as if mimicking a prayer. "We need to reignite the faith of the mortals."

"Pauper. Whose suffering do you end with this course of action?" Ultio spoke simply, eyebrow raised behind his mask. "The suffering of your worshippers? Yours? It certainly wouldn't be ours that you relieve, given you'd be missed amongst the divine. It can't be your worshippers, it'd merely break their hearts to hear you tell them it was pointless to believe. If it's your duty to relieve suffering..." If it weren't for the burning sensation in his blood, he'd likely have stood up like Aisyr to block the path. "Then we'll certainly need you for the road ahead. It is unlikely any plan we do won't leave suffering that needs soothed."

"... Little brother?" Ultio kinda just... Let that hang in the air for the moment. Does he exactly feel like a brother to these gods? Not particularly. He identified more with his generation, lost as they were. "Would I not be more a nephew? After all, you each are so old, it's hard to imagine such a gap between siblings." Just a teensy bit more of that mischievous child he was poked out. One could almost imagine the smile on his face at his next words. "Also, nice to see that despite my, allegedly confrontational means of expressing my opinion, you agree."

Bari would receive a nod of acknowledgement, along with a "Greeting, God-Kin... Anyone want to help him up? Feels wrong to have this meeting with one of our number face down on the floor." He'd do it, but he doubts he could physically even move Bari's hand, let alone the whole body.

Ah yes, the one Ultio worried the most might take his words wrong. Severed Heaven had gained something in his voice that was missing the first time he spoke. Something that a small part of Ultio's mind screamed meant danger and to run away. A part he did his best to ignore, because the words held no danger. There was no hint of immediate threat to his person. "It is weird to agree with you, Severed Heaven. But yes, we need to reach out to those mortals who still believe. We need to remind them of why they believe, and in turn convince others that they should've never lost faith." Man, he somewhat wishes he had a drink now, his throat wasn't used to so much speaking...

"It would appear, my dear old God of Strength, that my words were not wasted." Ah, if that voice didn't convey the smugness of his smile at hearing one be wrong about the effectiveness of his words. "It is more than likely Utos would not call us together, if there was a way to avoid his end. How many meetings did he call in the past fifty years after all? He has not called us together for a social call. The best we can hope for, is to avenge Utos and his worshipper. Which we can do, by working together. After all, if we gods can agree that we wish not to fade, Utos does not die for nothing. It means Utos' gave the remaining time of his existence, to grant us and our worshippers the best chance we have to continue on."

With shaky hands, Ultio would push himself up from his throne. "It is better we work together against our common enemy who takes Utos from us, than try to stop what seems all but inevitable. After all, we may know the location of where it'll happen... But I doubt any of us would get there in time as we are, even if one were to leave as soon as Utos said it."

A soft sigh left Ultio as it became Altaqula's turn to express anger. In a different time, this would likely be tied with angering Severed Heaven as things Ultio would literally do anything else but face. However, he could hear the pain in each breath. See the way that Altquala's form simply wasn't what it once was. So, he chose to weather the storm of her anger. Which lasted all of, like, one sentence before it petered out. "I apologize, Altaqula. My words were meant to rouse you divines who entertained the idea of letting time pass until you too faded."

One can easily remember him as the God of Vengeance, any who've spoken to him likely could guess philosophy, or poison. However, many seem to forget he is the God of Trickery too. The feelings may be true, but the words were meant to provoke. "I may feel betrayed by the older Gods, that is more for the war I was born into, then your choices in this matter. It has an appeal, fading away in peace. However, it is likely that if any of us chooses to give up, we may not have enough support for those who wish to fight to survive."

He'd place his hands upon the table, wincing slightly as he supported himself. "Penance for one's actions, for any who feel guilty and wish to fade, can be paid in many ways. Atone by helping your fellow divine. With the state we're in, we can not afford to lose any more now if we wish to defy the Inquisition. Not just because it'd be a pain to add another name to the list of those I must avenge, but because we got into this mess together. Only together can we get out of it."

  Solirus Sunsmiter Arai SirDerpingtonIV palmtree219 Historia Calamatium jmann Zenritch ThatWhichShouldBe AiDEE-c0

 

[Barbas]

Belgrin sat in silence as some of his fellow Gods squabbled amongst each other. Usually, such things would have gnawed at his fierce temper, but it seems like that was yet another thing that was dulled by the Withering. That, or it was simply overridden by both the confusion he felt when some of the others spoke of atonement for past actions and the responsibility they had to their mortal followers. Sure, he understood the need for Gods to honor their obligations, but anything else just felt strange to him. Mortals existed to provide worship and the Gods offer blessings and other such gifts when they deem fit. That was their relationship, and Belgrin viewed anything else as an aberration. It would be akin to a farmer becoming overly attached to a plow and refusing to replace it after it broke.



After sitting there in silence for some time, Belgrin decided to add some input to the current conversation.



"I have to say that I agree with Altaqula and Ultio, at least regarding how we should best confront the Inquisition. This conflict is one that can only be fought with cunning and guile. To attempt a direct confrontation is folly, and will only serve as a glorified suicide. That, and not only should we use a subtle hand, but we must also combine our efforts. Otherwise, we will fail, and suffer a similar fate to a lone sheep encountering a pack of wolves. " Belgrin said, and began letting out some awful-sounding coughs. This coughing episode went on for a few moments before it stopped and he was able to continue.


"Also, while I do believe that we should take measures to ensure the survival of the few followers we still have, all of us have to be willing to take a more pragmatic approach. Our followers are valuable, but in the end, they are still just expendable pawns, and we must be willing to sacrifice them if it ensures our long-term survival."


Arai The True Plague

 

[R U S T]

Ectu

​

Ectu turned his head towards Utos, curious of why this meeting was being held in the first place but, it would soon be revealed that it was not for any good reason.

Listening to the dying god made Ectu feel pity for the god, knowing this would be his very last interaction before his last and final worshipper would be executed and soon he would face his demise as his follower did.

His head turned sharply and deadly accurate as the god of Vengeance began to enter a speech of rage and his obvious anger towards the inquisition and others, most notably how his speech seemed to be also taking about Severed Heavens acts in the god war. Causing Ectu to also stand up from his seat and ace his hands on the table, gripping the table with a growing anger.

“ Consider yourself lucky that this meeting is holding me back from ripping your heart out and feeding it to you Severed Heaven, I will brutalize you like the few friends you’ve had and others that have attempted to stop me. “

He said with the purpose of threatening the war god.

He then turned to Belgrin and listened to his opinions and thoughts of their current position.

“ I say we should kill them all. The bastards think they can oppose us? The inquisition has gone far to long thinking they’re above everyone else, those dogs need to be put down. And I’ll gladly kill any that I see.“

He said before sitting back down onto his throne, listening to the conversations the other gods held with each other as he starred at Severed Heaven with murderous intentions.

 

[Juju]

Utos & Cervasis​

---

---

The True Plague

Utos had expected the reaction before him, and yet it made it no easier to endure. Ultio's outburst was not a surprise, after all the young god had been born during the war and had only known the fall of divinity. The world’s glory had long faded by the time his eyes first beheld it.

Such bitterness was understandable, and it seemed to stir up similar grievances among the gods he accused. Utos listened and watched them quarrel, a shadow over his face. It was becoming difficult to maintain his focus, but he poured what remained of his energy into concentration.

---

Zenritch

Another god approached to share their condolences, this time the dream goddess. Utos nodded in thanks for her kind words, but was keenly aware of the troubled thoughts she would be having. Afterall, he had been entrusted with the safekeeping of her beloved. The concern was something that he knew all too well.

Before she returned to her chair, Utos carefully removed a key from his collection and presented it to the goddess. “When Einar was first sealed away I formed a contract of protection, one that I intended to uphold even in the event of my death.”

The key glinted faintly in his palm, as if reacting to his words. “The vault that contains him is sound enough to last even without my divine power, though I must warn you that the withering was something none of us could have predicted. Once the vault is opened you will be unable to seal it again, so I urge you to only use this when you are sincerely ready to face what is inside.”

---

Solirus

Utos’ eyes shifted to Guardian when he asked about a plan, and one could almost swear the corners of his lips twitched. “Perhaps you have too much faith in me, old friend. In that case, might I trouble you with one last favour?”

“With my passing I shall leave many things unfinished. Though it pains my heart, the regret cannot be helped.”

Within the folds of his robes he once again produced his keyring, “Not all contracts end with death. For some, it is only the beginning…”

Utos glanced down at the intricate and unmarked keys, all hung from a hoop of gold now tarnished with age. Since the dawn of all things, when he had first made it, the keys had always been by his side. Some had been used to protect cities or make the realm they all stood in, while others remained unknown. Faded as they were, the keys served not only as a divine tool, but as the very symbol of his divinity.

After a pause of quiet thoughts, Utos held out the keys for Guardian to take. “When I am gone, Guardian, I trust you to keep these safe in my stead. May they serve you all well.”

---

palmtree219 ThatWhichShouldBe

Thankfully not all gods present had fallen into anger or hopelessness. Even Pauper, who had once given up, found a renewed drive. The goddess of freedom, Aisyr, was among the hopeful, as always. Even as the moon neared its zenith, she still thought of ways to save Utos.

Ruaka had been fond of Aisyr and all of her antics, and spent a good deal of time writing songs to contain the adventures of mortal heroes. She reminded him a lot of Ruaka, both blessed with a hope that endured even in the darkest days. Although he hated to see hope fade, Utos could only nod gravely in agreement with Severed Heaven.

“I am afraid Severed Heaven is correct. Your concern for my well being is touching, yet I do not wish to bring about another's death in a futile attempt for my own life." He finished with a warm, yet tired smile he hoped would reassure her.

---

Arai Historia Calamatium The True Plague SirDerpingtonIV

Wrathful waves disturbed the peaceful lake, causing the golden lotuses to bob up and down, some torn from their roots. Utos' eyes went to them as the discussion heated up, sighing in dismay. Even when the storm settled, the lotuses continued to fall down into the water one by one along the edge of vision. Slowly but surely, it was circling towards the centre area.

Sen’arric’s words were sharp, but the only reaction it earned from Utos was a slight frown. It was none other than Ultio who came to his defence, a gesture that the tired god was grateful for.

“Indeed. Perhaps with my miniscule power I could have changed the outcome, or perhaps I would have been struck down and lost in silence. All decisions were weighed, and all others found lacking. My duty is to this council, one that was entrusted to me long ago. I chose to use the last of my power, the last of my moments, to bring you all together for one last time, and to make appropriate preparations. Consider it foolish if you may, but it does little to change my resolve in the matter.”

He nodded at Sen’arric’s request, “If it is truly your desire to leave…”

A golden light shone from between Utos’ fingers, dull and flickering, but was interrupted when someone arrived late. They were heavy and loud, clattering like broken armour and scrap metal.

Very little done or said at the meeting brought Utos any surprise, but the arrival of Bari changed this. If Utos had the strength to stand, he would have. The light he had been summoning fizzled out with his concentration.

“To think that as I die the dead would come back…” Utos muttered in bewilderment. Bari had gone missing shortly after the Artefacts creation, lost in his mission to see the corruption eradicated. “So the corruption didn’t take you after all. It is a shame I cannot hear your stories.”

---

---

seasonedcat Solirus jmann SirDerpingtonIV ThatWhichShouldBe Barbas Arai Historia Calamatium AiDEE-c0 palmtree219 R U S T Sunsmiter The True Plague Zenritch​

---

---

Bari was not the only late arrival. Shortly after he fell into the realm something else invaded. A bird-like screech filled the air as something burst from yet another doorway. From afar it looked like a fuzzy ball of blue wings and dust. With two sets of arms it clutched onto a glowing key like a lifeline.

The flying creature clumsily nose-dived into Bari and bounced off his armour to land on the floor nearby.

“Ow oww owww…” the tiny creature whimpered. It crumbled into a ball on the pale marble, shaking and pressing tiny hands against their eyes. The key they had been holding fell to the ground beside them. Puddles of water left by Altaqula’s waves were soaking into their fluffy wings. “Too bright. It hurts, it hurts… Oh, I've failed. Forgive me Moonmother, forgive me Mendeshe, I failed you all!”

Cervasis leapt from the table and was upon the little creature in a matter of seconds. The creature was hardly half the cat’s size, but it didn’t seem to notice anything around it, including Bari and the feline predator. Eyes forced shut against the light, they simply rocked back and forth in pain.

“A moon fae…?” Utos muttered, disbelief clear on his face. “Cervasis bring them here. Might someone assist the forgefather as well?”

As instructed, Cervasis brought the creature to the table so that the others could see it clearly. They were humanoid, though just barely. Their body was covered in fur and chitin, patterned in shades of blue. Claws tipped their little hands and large moth wings grew from their back. One of these wings was broken, the delicate scales ripped away and silver blood leaking from where the appendage had snapped and torn. A tiny metal collar fitted with red crystals was strung tightly around their neck. It had chafed away at the fur on their neck and left the skin raw.

Spoiler

Cervasis dropped them and they flopped onto the table, broken wing held out at an odd angle. They sat up and cracked their eyes open, straining from the effort. Upon recognizing Utos they let out a gasp, eyes widening to their full bulbous size. “Utos?”

The shock had made them forget, but the instant pain reminded them. The moonfae pawed at their face again, tears streaming from their eyes. “Ow ow… O’ happy day and O’ happy night! The key worked and Utos lives! Mother- er I mean Jericho was wrong, very wrong! She said he would be dead and you would all be fighting over his corpse like nightcrows! Oops, oh maybe I shouldn’t have said that part…”

Eyes squinting, the fae struggled to adjust to the light. “My name... My name is Nishi. Nimble Nishi. Jericho sent me. Oh please, you must listen! Jericho says this is the only chance!"

Utos shook his head, many questions running through it. Years had passed since he received word of Jericho’s death, and many more since Bari’s disappearance, and yet they were still alive. He looked at the fae seriously, eyes cloudy, “Unfortunately Jericho was right about my death. I am to fade away at the moon’s zenith. Please, speak freely.”

“EEP! I must be quick, very quick. Jericho said not to be stu-... not to do anything reckless! That the inquisition wants to scatter you all by targeting Utos. Something about ‘desperation forcing you to act, drawing you out of hiding and sc-scattering you like hunting dogs’… and-and that they’re right to think he’s the only thing holding mon-... holding you all together.”

Nishi covered their head and winced, as if expecting someone to strike them. “B-but but but, she also said you wouldn’t work together unless it benefitted you so she told me to say this first. Uh oops. Supposed to say this first; the Inquisition isn’t just able to track down worshippers. They’ve been researching a way to kill gods directly… and they are close, very close! We… we all had to watch… c-ut and torn…”

The distress was causing ice crystals to form along their wings and soon frozen tears fell freely from their eyes. They began to sob. “Jericho said to ignore her, not to plead… but oh please you have to save Jericho and the fae. It's our fault, if-if we didn’t get caught then she w-wouldn’t have been killed and t-taken away! They’re hurting her… hurting us! She’s dying, and we are too.”

 

[ThatWhichShouldBe]

The distress was causing ice crystals to form along their wings and soon frozen tears fell freely from their eyes. They began to sob. “Jericho said to ignore her, not to plead… but oh please you have to save Jericho and the fae. It's our fault, if-if we didn’t get caught then she w-wouldn’t have been killed and t-taken away! They’re hurting her… hurting us! She’s dying, and we are too.”

Severed Heaven

---

Senarric's tantrum goes ignored by the old War God, as he turns his full attention upon the arriving Fae. He watches as Cervasis deposits the Fae on the table, a frown on his face. It seems that his words had been more true than he realized, if Jericho had had to grant her key to her children rather than arrive herself. She had to have been bound. Severed Heaven, for all his impassive demeanor, couldn't help but crack a grin and chuckle as the Fae stammers on. Indeed, if Utos was dead, then this conversation would not be happening between the gods. They would be having their own little war for the keeper of the Artifact now, in all likelihood.

Severed Heaven simply begins to laugh aloud, harder, as the Fae continues to speak. The Inquisition planning to fracture them apart, and hunt them down each. It only quiets once she speaks of the Inquisition trying to kill gods directly, rather than hunting down their worshippers. At that thought, Severed Heaven frowns. Impatient. The inquisition were impatient. They were winning their war. Killing the worshippers of the gods one by one, slowly. Eventually, all the gods they hated would vanish to dust.

So why try to move faster now? Why try to kill the gods directly now, when they had all but won? It made no sense... unless there was a new development.

Severed Heaven walks towards the Fae, his left hand grasping one of the scabbards at his side. The scabbard of the mortal blade he carried, the signifier of the path he'd chosen. To watch the world and not interfere, to live as a mortal and not as a god. He takes up that scabbard, unhooking it from his belt... And he tosses it to the side. The lacquered wood skids across the stone of the meeting-realm, as it rolls away, the sound echoing throughout the room. And the War-God speaks, with a ghost of that ancient strength that had once overturned mountains and slaughtered alliances of Gods upon his blade.

"O' child of the Moon, dry your tears. Tell us all that you can. Once any of those who wish to join me are ready for the journey, we will march to Jericho's aid. We will march to the war these mortals seek so dearly."

jmann
The War-God looks to the Goddess of Life, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Tes-Nennet, have you strength enough yet to tend to her wounds, or has even that fled you?"

 

[Sunsmiter]

THEY ARE LIKE CANDLES. TO BE BURNT AND TO BE INCINERATED.
QUIET! YOU!
"Etcu!" The Reaper sounded aghast at his suggestion. "Have you lost your mind?" Luckily, before the old god could form a rebuke(or if his ever-so-helpful candle-counterpart could), his attention was seized by the fae.
"They are searching a way to kill gods? Oh dear...oh my..."
A sharp, searing laugh echoed in a mind slowly fading from the Withering, a voice both there yet not, a voice only the dead could hear. The Lady in Black's laugh was no more sharper than the Reaper's, no different than his own grim chuckle, but it was here, and it was malignant.
SOON. SOON. SOONSOONSOONSOONSOON WE SHALL DIE JUST LIKE FOOLS-
QUIET. YOU.
"Oh...dear..."
This was bad news indeed. Rising from his seat, the Reaper slowly approached the moon fae, making sure not to startle the small creature. He did not want to appear like death incarnate, coming to reap their soul.
Unfortuantely, he did.
"Do you know...more of their research? More of how they plan to end us?"
There were many ways to kill a god. No one knew this surer than the god of death himself. But, as of the most likely choices, the Reaper may or may not have an unfortunate idea of what it might be....
Oh dear, Azrael....you mnight be right after all.

 

[Solirus]

Guardian

Interactions: Juju ThatWhichShouldBe SirDerpingtonIV ​

The anger from the other gods seeped out, some more obvious than others. Guardian refused to show it, but he could sense it like the stench of a corpse in broad daylight. Guardian did not utter a single words as the gods conversed yet when Utos directed his gaze unto Guardian. Without hesitation he approached his friend to listen to his last favor.

Guardian did not find the words to respond, in his awakened slumber, he had questioned his own abilities, he could see figments of the past, tainted with failure. Deep down he questioned if he truly could protect anyone when so many had died under him, yet if one thing was clear, it was that he could trust Utos's judgement. "Thank you Utos..." for believing in me when even I hold doubts. "I shall keep these safe with my life." Guardian took the ring of keys, clutching it tightly on his hand and attaching them to his waist.

With the strength he had remaining, Guardian moved towards Bari crouching down and helping the large god up, "I'm glad you are still with us Bari." Guardian helped the larger god up, assisting in walking him and sitting him on his chair. It was an exhausting maneuver for Guardian, but he could scarcely reveal that to everyone involved.

What came next was most unexpected. A moth like creature entered the realm, holding most urgent and grave news. The news of Jericho being alive was good news, but at the mention that the inquisition sought to kill them directly, an unknown feeling spiked within Guardian before being subdued. The words that came out of the God of War did not make things easier. Guardian marched directly to SH until the blank expression of his face was mere inches away from SH. "Call it what you desire, but our first priority shall be the rescue and safety of Jericho." His voice lost its calmness. "If we are to unite for a cause I shall not tolerate senseless murder or sacrifice. Let us not fall into the abyss of depravity that the Inquisition gorges upon" His words spoken with certainty for all in the realm to listen.

 

[jmann]

Tes-Nenet

Tes-Nenet's face turned from hope to bitter disgust. Her face scrunched up like a putrid smell had hit the air. The very thought of marching off to war against professional god-killers was one of the most foolish things Tes-Nenet could imagine, God of War or otherwise. The Inquisition forests at the rumour of Tes-Nenet's passing, they tortured families she had so much as spoken to in passing. Even the children were not safe. Tes-Nenet had looked into the fiery and hateful eyes of soldiers she nurtured as children. Their love had turned to the zealous of everyone she held dear. Tes-Nenet had heard the rumours of Severed Heaven ambushing Inquisitors and disappearing before the Inquisition reaped their vengeance on the town Severed Heaven had left without a care.

Of course, Tes-Nenet wished more than anything to save Jericho from their clutches. She loved Jericho as she loved all others who she struggled alongside in the war. Jericho had an incorruptible spirit and a thirst to do good. Her violent inclinations were understandable even if unappreciated by Tes-Nenet. But there were... complications, for lack of a better word. Bursting through the gates was exactly what the Inquisition wanted and nobody would be saved if they were all dead.

"What a fool I was to think you had changed even slightly from your youth," Tes-Nenet spat with the disappointed scowl of a scornful mother, "A wiser god would learn from their mistakes but I see no such wisdom in your eyes. My abilities will not be questioned by a god who cannot think beyond than the length of his sword. The War should have taught you better."

Tes-Nenet's look softened. Such anger weighed heavy on her heart and pushing herself would only strain her body further. Tes-Nenet lifted herself from the chair and beckoned Nishi forward, reaching forward and placing a hand over the base of Nishi's wing. A warmth passed through her hand and green tendrils braced against the back of the wing, holding it still and boosting the recovery of the broken wing. Those same vines wrapped partway around Nishi's neck to soothe the ache. She could not remove the collar by hand, but she could aid the fae's pain. With a satisfied sigh, she gave Nishi a smile and lowered herself back into her chair.

"Thank you Nishi, be sure to keep that wing still for a moment. Would you be as kind as to guide us in our efforts to rescue Jericho?" Tes-Nenet turned back to the council. though she did not eye contact with Severed Heaven, "Guardian is correct, Jericho must be our priority. If we are not together in this endeavour we will fail, in this I am sure."

---

ThatWhichShouldBe Juju Solirus

 

[ThatWhichShouldBe]

Severed Heaven

---

Solirus jmann
The war god looks at Guardian and Tes-Nenet for a moment, tilting his head. The only change in his expression is a long, slow, blink. He looks from one face to another, a wry smile on his face, before he shakes his head. He had thought them all too old for this. He had thought they had all seen the inquisition as he had, faced them as he had faced them. Seen their resolve with his own eyes, known their hearts as only warriors can know one another, in the ringing of steel and the heat of drawn blood. Severed Heaven speaks, his voice kind yet knife-sharp, as he delivers unpleasant, undesired truth.

"Rescuing Jericho is our objective, of course. But do you not see? The Inquisition's guards will lay down their lives to stop us from freeing her. Whatever complex they hold her in is no doubt in the heart of their power, ensconced with rings upon rings of protectors and watchers. Every last one of them would see us dead, and they would shed their blood in rivers before they ever allowed us to reach her.

And once we have rescued Jericho? Once we depart for safer lands with her in tow? Do you think they will let us go?"

Severed Heaven speaks with all the certainty of the grave, his words like funeral bells.

"Their hounds will howl for our blood. They will know that the Gods have bound their strengths together to survive, and that the Inquisition will not abide. They will come for us without mercy and without restraint. Any who shelter us, any who offer us succor, will be fed to their pyres and their torture-racks."

The War-God crosses his arms over his chest, raising his head as he pronounces words that cannot be denied.

"You take my will for blood-thirst? By the stars, have you all forgotten?

This fight did not begin here, in this room, when Jericho's child pleaded for our help. It did not begin when Bitteredge fell, it did not begin when they made Hartwood a grave for countless souls. It began the day they decided it would be better to re-enact the fate of Yolan on a dozen cities rather than to allow us to be remembered. It began the day they chose to make the rivers run red with the blood of their mortal kin, rather than accept we exist. All the atrocities that followed were an extension of that absolute belief."

He gives them a look.

"And now that we finally wish to face them, to defy them, do you really dare think it will be anything less than a war? Oh, we cannot match them strength for strength. We will have to hide, to trick, to cheat. Such is the nature of war with something stronger than you.

But even so, it will not be kind words and a gentle touch that frees Jericho from whatever prison they have her in."

 

[The True Plague]

Ultio, for the briefest of moments, questioned if all the gods were worth saving. Sure, he said that he'd not want to add any more names to the list of those needing to he avenged but like... Come on. Got one of them talking about how they should be pragmatic and willing to use worshippers as pawns, as if the gods had enough to justify such actions. Then there's Ectu who seems only to know destruction... Typical of the older Gods, truly.

"You've a point on being more pragmatic if we wish to survive, but I do not believe the answer lies in treating the worshippers we have as expendable. If we do that, we risk losing what worship we still have. Why risk a painful death at the Inquisition's hands, for gods whom would gladly hand you over to save their skin for a bit longer?" Ultio really, really, REALLY wanted to make a joke about calling Belgrin a snake. Like, he could see the opportunity right there... But not right now. Maybe later. He'll have to remember it. "As for you," Ultio would turn his gaze towards Ectu. "I doubt we could kill all of the Inquis-" Ultio would've continued, but he fell silent upon seeing the newest to arrive.

What, in all of creation, was that short creature? Utos had said something, but Ultio couldn't quite catch the muttered words. Whatever it was, it seemed it had something to say. Something highly concerning. "The Inquisition wishes to slay us directly?" A small part of him wanted to call that commendable. Smart too, honestly. After all, the casual murdering of worshippers suspected or real did feed at least into Ultio's own worship occasionally. Better to go to the source, leaves less collateral as well. Purely getting back at those they've deemed wronged them...

"It is not my place to ask you to delve deeper into the likely traumatic sights you've seen, but I must ask. Any poisons that they've been trying?" Perhaps one or two might find a sense of guilt in his words. After all, Ultio had been the one to pioneer poisons to use against gods in the War. It was entirely possible recipes could've been copied from him, passed down by worshippers who could've been forced to tell the Inquisition by torture, or worse joined the Inquisition for vengeance against the gods for Yolan. It would be both fitting, and depressing if his work was what let the Inquisition finally murder the gods. Fitting due to acquiring vengeance, depressing since that would mean the mortals outdid him on his research...

Honestly, Ultio kinda tuned out the part about rescuing Jericho. Not to say he didn't want to help his fellows, but like... He is currently quite concerned on if any of his followers would've joined the Inquisition or revealed some horrible concoction he's developed. Honestly, if Severed Heaven hadn't been so inconsiderate as to toss a scabbard aside, Ultio would still be internally debating if he may be the reason the others would die. Instead, he refocused on the now, listened to the words of Guardian, Grimm, Tes-Nenet, and even SH response to the response his words got. Ultio's grip on the table loosened, much like his tongue.

"March to war? I doubt we've the strength to openly war with the Inquisition as a whole as we all are currently." Ultio steps away from the table, mostly because the scabbard SH threw ended up skidding not that far away for him, and he wanted to pick it up. Utos is dying, don't litter at essentially his death bed. "Also, what safer lands do we even have, Severed Heaven? Where exactly would we take Jericho, assuming we even could get into, as you propose, likely a location within the very heart of the Inquisition's seat of power? That's not even accounting for..." He'd kinda look at Nishi, once again questioning what that creature was. He has honestly never seen one before. He'd point to it with his left hand.

"What of its kind? Do we leave them with the Inquisition to save Jericho?" Ultio would place the scabbard in front of his throne, on the table. "What stops them from slaughtering whatever worshippers they hold captive? What if they're tormenting Jericho purely because they've got the last of their worshippers already and could kill them to spite our rescue? What if one of us is captured in the attempt to rescue Jericho? Then we end up back at step one."

Ultio stood up straight as he could, doing his best to not aggravate his blood by getting riled up again. "It's fine enough to say we should focus on saving Jericho first, but is there not steps between that we need to first make? Finding their location, setting up somewhere safe enough to at least run to to get some breathing room. " Ultio would attempt to slide the scabbard over the table back to SH. "You're right in that this will likely be war between us and the Inquisition, but this is also vengeance for what they've done to our fellows. For what they've done to our worshippers. It will not do, to exact vengeance before a plan is made."

Whether the scabbard makes its way back to SH or not, Ultio would seat himself upon his throne. "I will ask though, who exactly will be leading this?" He'd steeple his fingers together, looking around at the other gods. "We wish to rescue Jericho, we will have to wage war with the Inquisition if we attempt to rescue Jericho whether we fail or succeed. As the little one pointed out, Utos was really the only thing holding us together. We can't rescue Jericho if we don't work together. We absolutely can't successfully war against the Inquisition if we splinter apart or fall into infighting. So naturally, would this not mean someone must step in to keep us united as Utos did? Who of us could handle that responsibility?"

  ThatWhichShouldBe jmann Solirus Barbas R U S T @ anyone else who wishes to respond

 

[Juju]

The End of the Beginning...

ThatWhichShouldBe Sunsmiter jmann The True Plague Solirus SirDerpingtonIV Barbas Historia Calamatium AiDEE-c0 Arai palmtree219 R U S T seasonedcat Zenritch​

---

"O' child of the Moon, dry your tears. Tell us all that you can. Once any of those who wish to join me are ready for the journey, we will march to Jericho's aid. We will march to the war these mortals seek so dearly."

"You’ll help us?” Nishi choked, a look of relief shining through their tearful eyes. They did their best to wipe away their tears, as Shattered Heaven urged, though they still fell freely. “Oh thank you, thank you! I will tell you everything I know!”

Despite The Reaper’s best effort, there was no helping the terrified reaction of Nishi upon seeing the God of Death approach them.

“Eek! Oh please don’t take my soul yet!” They screeched, scrambling across the table desperately. Forgetting about their bad wing, they tried to flap away but only succeeded in tumbling across the table into a broken heap.

Whimpering, they curled their two sets of arms around their wing. Seeing as The Reaper was still there after their pathetic attempt at escape, Nishi simply screwed their eyes shut and waited. Only instead of taking their soul, it seemed that Death had come to ask them a question.

"Do you know...more of their research? More of how they plan to end us?"

The fae gingerly cracked open an eye, then their other. Realizing that The Reaper had not yet come for them, they raised their head from their cowering. “All I know is that they’re using the-the bad crystals. Red l-like winterberries. Lots of research…tests… many on Jericho. H-had to watch. They’ve used it to… oh no, they’ll hurt Jericho and the others when they find out I left… oh no, no, no…”

Nishi’s breathing became irregular as they clutched their head in a panic. Ice crystals had formed a fine layer of white across their fur and wings and frost spread on the table below their paws. Stuck in a daze of despair and starving for comfort, they almost subconsciously followed Tes’ gesture to approach. Stiffly they walked up to her, dragging their broken wing behind them.

The moonfae instinctively flinched at Tes’ touch, but after realizing there was no pain the trembling fae stood still enough for the goddess to do her work. A warmth spread over their little body and before they knew it the aches they had become accustomed to were fading. Their snapped wing began to straighten and the bleeding stopped as the torn flesh stitched itself together again. The only wound that didn't seem to heal much was the raw flesh under their collar.

The fae looked back at their wing in wonder, stretching it out to test it. They surely would have taken flight had Tes not warned them to rest the wing. With a happy cry they rushed at Tes-nenet’s arm and grabbed onto it in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you! I thought my wing was done for when I squeezed through that door, but if it was for Jericho and the fae it was worth it, very worth it! Then you healed me…”

They buried their face into Tes’ arm, crying a little less than before. “Yes. I, Nishi, will guide you all to Jericho. I swear by the moon, I’ll do everything I can to help you! Jericho trusted Enitoh, and then Mendeshe, and now Nishi with her key all in hopes this day would come… I-I have to save them. I can’t fail them, not now. Not after everything they did…”

"It is not my place to ask you to delve deeper into the likely traumatic sights you've seen, but I must ask. Any poisons that they've been trying?" Perhaps one or two might find a sense of guilt in his words.

“P-poisons…? Like bad potions?” Nishi stuttered, staring up at Ultio with eyes wide and terrified. They were hyperventilating again, their fuzzy chest rising and falling to the runaway beat of a frantic heart. They shivered, “The b-bird lady liked them. She made many bad potions, very bad. Dragged us away when there were more of us… so many poor mothborn…and Jericho…”

They crouched down, covering their head as if it would keep the memories locked up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I told you I would help. I will, I just need… give me a moment…I…”

Nishi huddled into themself while Ultio addressed the group of gods and discussed his opinions with Severed Heaven. When the topic switched to the remaining fae population, and whether or not it could be a trap, Nishi couldn’t help but wonder if that was why Jericho wanted them to stay away. They whimpered, “It’s true. We’re all that's left of the fae.”

“Grief must come later. Steel yourself for just a little longer, Nishi.” Throughout the entire questioning period Utos had been quiet, yet now he spoke.

Dark fractures had formed on his face, stretching outwards in a netlike pattern beneath his tired blue eyes. His face looked like cracked porcelain, or a damaged marble statue. Those who had been present at Yolan would have remembered Shiie’s demise. She had burned out before their eyes, body dissipating like a letter held above a candle. Utos was very different, as if he were being crushed under tremendous pressure.

His voice was strained as he asked the fae a question of his own. “Do you recall any details as to where you were taken? Be swift.”

“I-I woke up in my cage, but but but Mendeshe said she was awake enough to remember some things. She told me that she heard the sound of a strange bell, and-and cheers. Then it all went red.” Nishi sputtered out, panicking at the urgency of Utos' voice and his current state. “Mendeshe would never make up tricks! Never!”

Just like Utos, the realm had begun to crack. What was once an endless expanse of tranquil waters had shrunk into a meagre circle around the marble platforms, forming one giant circular waterfall into a dark abyss. The golden lotuses floated with the current, disappearing over the crest of the waterfall never to be seen again. Even the gentle skies had changed from clear morning light to the red of sunset. High above, a crescent moon glared down at the gathering. The stagnant air had picked up into a stiff wind from the pull of the void below. The curtains of silk billowed and the ashes of The Artefact were beginning to stir and blow away.

The realm was finally collapsing, along with its creator.

“It could have been the Obsidian tower, in Ylares. It matches my own information.” Utos said, the pain making his voice unsteady.

He lifted a hand to his chest, and finally the floating sword could be seen. It made one wonder if Utos was breaking a contract, but instead of being skewered through, Utos simply reached into the hole in his chest to produce a small object. It looked like a ball of liquid gold, shifting and melding into itself. In Utos’ cracked fingers, it turned into a key.

“Cervasis… if you would…” The cat had taken the key before Utos could even finish the request and ran it over towards the entrance area.

When dropped the key created a large tear in the very fabric of the realm. It was similar to the door that had led them here, only instead of a clean cut doorway it looked like a vertical whirlpool of liquid gold. The edges of it licked away in flecks, betraying its fragile stability. It was clear it would not hold for long.

“This is the last I can do for you… it will take you close to the city. A previous residence of mine. Take anything you need, but do not linger long. I fear the Inquisition may investigate it shortly. Farewell my friends…”

Utos’ eyes turned downward to find Cervasis sitting on his lap again. He smiled, and for the first time looked close to tears, “You too, Cervasis.”

The three-eyed cat pinned their ears back. Cervasis was refusing to leave Utos.

Nishi grabbed onto Tes' cloak to avoid being blown away in the wind.

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐
Scenes will be switching soon!
Please finish up everything you want to do!
There is no going back...
└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘​

 

[Arai]

Altaqula

Goddess of the Water

-Embarassed-
The True Plague jmann Solirus ThatWhichShouldBe SirDerpingtonIV Juju

Alataqula had shied away from speaking up again, already regretting her childish outburst, and guilt rocked her as she noted the damaged lilys in the water. Old habits were easy to fall into, and so she had stepped into the entryway to assist Guardian with Bari as her old friends hobbled back to the room. Both of their armours were scuffed, but Bari moved and made noise like a room filled with metal, his very movements sounded like hammers hitting steel.

It was strange, considering their ages, that Altaqula would be so much better off than her siblings. Bari could barely stand, and Guardian seemed to have one foot in the grave already. Gods of Air and Forge indeed. Maybe the secret was adapting and embracing the new normal, though the Goddess of Waters was wise enough to know that admitting such a statement now would only rile up her youngers again.

"I'm glad you are still with us Bari."

"Likewise," Altaqula added. "I was worried you'd decided to die silently. I didn't think it was in your style," She said, trying to lighten the mood as she and guardian dropped him somewhat un-ceremoniously into his chair. She noted upon their return that the argument, which was what it had become, was still ongoing, aggravated by the anger of each other, Severed Heaven and Tes-Nenet were now trading blows of their own, drawn into misdirected anger and judgemental insults. Ultio was trying to get the group to think, but the string of earlier comments made her reluctant to listen even now, as his comments were valid.

With the moon fae safely in their compatriots hands, it began to tell them what it could of Jericho. Altaqula nodded at Utos' theory, pretending not to notice his rapidly deteriorating condition. "The bells of Ylares were made with an imperfect alloy," She added helpfully. "It gives the bells a unique sound. The cheering is likely from the square near the prisons, where they exec...where they take the devout," She concluded.

She watched as Ultos opened one final portal, it's golden surface shimmering and shrouding any idea of where it would take them. She felt the waters dropping away into nothing, like it was simply...ceasing to be water anymore. The marble was cracked across it's surface, and Altaqula quietly lamented the loss as the back of her throne broke apart, falling in coral chunks onto the fractured floor tiles.

“This is the last I can do for you… it will take you close to the city. A previous residence of mine. Take anything you need, but do not linger long. I fear the Inquisition may investigate it shortly. Farewell my friends…”

Moving with speed, she put a steady hand on Ultos' shoulder, and held him close for a second. The two weren't exactly friends, or even acquaintances really, but he was dying, and she was sad. His oversized cat protested as she leaned over it. "I...You...Goodbye Utos," she settled on, words failing her.

Stepping toward the portal, Altaqula splayed her arms wide and pulled them in close and the waterfalls surrounding them seemed to grow shallow for a moment, as she pulled what water remained into a steadier foundation to walk on to reach the glowing portal ahead.

"The debate on how we rescue Jericho can continue in the mortal realm. We can't stay here," She said, trying to let the group know that they had at least agreed on that. "I can hold this platform after Utos...after the temple crumbles. But please hurry, it lost only as long as there is water to build it" She called to her brethren, before stepping into the golden light herself, and vanishing from sight.

 

[jmann]

Tes-Nenet

Tes-Nenet was beginning to calm herself after her outburst. Such exclamations made her feel like a fool. Who was she to argue with the God of War? Surely she had not been so naïve as to think he would ever change. Even Cyrus' change had only been one of behaviour and their perception of the gods. Their true nature had remained the same. Tes-Nenet listened to Ultio, turmoil twisting her gut. What he said would have been correct in most circumstances, but this was not most circumstances.

"I fear time is luxury Jericho cannot afford. If they are poisoning her and erasing her people then we have such little time to rescue her. Anywhere that will take the Inquisition more than a day to find. We can find our haven as we escape, all we need is to stay two steps ahead —"

The crumbling of the realm caught Tes-Nenet off-guard. She wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, she never was. Tes-Nenet swept up Nishi into her arms as she stood. She tucked the fae into her collar before rushing around what was left of the podium. She had been ignorant to Utos' fading, she thought she would have at least another few moments.

Tes-Nenet dropped into a tight hug around Utos, almost forgetting to leave him room to breathe.
"You have been a truest friend to me, Utos. I have never forgotten your kindnesses. I have said more goodbyes than I care to count, so instead I promise on my soul we will save every god, and it will be because of your words. Never forget that... please."
With a teary smile, Tes-Nenet forced herself to withdraw, her hand lingering on his. If she was going to live up to her promise she would need to live first. She turned to Cervasis, steadfast and loyal as always. She knelt down and offered a hand out to pet them.
"Come, friend, we must serve your master a final time. But to do that we'll have to leave this realm before we are taken to the void along with it. I beg of you, help me save his family."
The realm was crumbling too quickly, Tes-Nenet would not have time to ensure everyone's safety. She checked a final time around the room to see everybody making their leave before running through the shimmering portal, its edges threatening to collapse altogether.

 

[Sunsmiter]

The Reaper​

Location: Divine Council
There was a flash of what might have been relief at the words of the fae, as Death gently gave them a nod and turned back to the other gods.
"If it helps, I will agree first and foremost to the rescue of Jericho. I do not want another divine funeral." There had been more than enough death already. "But, please, do be careful..." There was no one who was more familiar with the Inquisition's murders than him.
The old deity winced as the realm began to crumble, boldly striding towards Utos to stand before him. He may no longer be capable of granting gods peace, but perhaps he can grant them comfort. Following in the goddess of life's tracks, the Reaper too, says his good-byes.
"The mortals call me the Reaper, for it is I who cull the stalks of life when Winter hath come. And tonight, your life is at an end, and your time has come. Rest, my dear friend, and may you find peace. Perhaps you may not find salvation, but perhaps you may find peace."
Turning, the Reaper frowned at the cat. "Cervasis..." he speaks. "Your time is not here. Do not throw yourself into Harpe's embrace. Your master has one last job for you to complete, and till then, I bid you not to rest." Even as the divine council crumbled around him, the old god waited for Cervasis' response.