"Ah, Donovyet it is then! Its been a long time since I've seen one like you and even longer with you kind of energy! I like that!" Laughing some more, "I'm Astriluxus, guardian, protector of life and The Dragon God. I am one of many of us here in this vast new world, and I have you to thank for fixing a slight problem that I had!"
"Fixing a problem you had? I did? How did I accomplish such a feat?" exclaims Donovyet. "Fixing problems...the very idea is fascinating."
"stand and raise your head my friend, we've been together long enough for you to not have to bow in my presence." "....but.. but..." Pollux starts to say, but before he can get another word in Astriluxus overrides him, "Now join us my friend, we have company! Donovyet meet my mortal champion Pollux! He's been helping me out!"
Donovyet bows graciously to Pollux. "Champion is quite a title, friend Pollux. I'm honored." The god's finger begins to twitch, the urge for inspiration and creation taxing his concentration.
Seeing the little one start to fidget a little, he gets an idea, "Ah, there is so much yet to do. What that is I am not sure yet, but its not getting done standing around here! Where shall we go my new friend? Pick a direction and I'll make sure we get there!"
In a small cave, an elderly woman intently studied a pile of rocks, holding each in her hand and studying the minute features of the stone... its color, its shape, the fine lines that had radiated into the stone when her chisel had struck the rock from the earth. The twinkling light of a magical orb floated over her shoulder in the otherwise unlit cave.
After a long moment, the woman nodded to herself and placed the rock onto the top of a smaller pile of stones to her right before picking up the next, and, after examining it, placing it onto a pile to her right.
The woman grunted in satisfaction as a thin smile curled her old lips. They had driven her, the great archaeologist Angelique Pym away for her theories, but... here was irrefutable proof! Reaching for her journal, she began to write...
~Bahetshep~ Beauty and youth are always prized commodities, for their existence is a finite one. One may attempt to hold onto beauty through the use of makeups and clothings and magics, but time is an unbeatable foe, robbing everyone of youth and vitality, as much as any and everyone would like to change that.
Or at least, so it was thought.
In a dark room with no windows in a manor located some distance from the main city, the financial backers of Project Neverold were seated around a table, listening to a report from one of the mages they financed.
"... and so you can see that with just the tiniest application of magic, we can change the properties of the blade from 'recieve' to 'transmit', as it were. All that remained to be seen was whether or not the addition of souls to one of our number would counteract the effects of the Severing"
The mage beaconed, and a woman of about twenty-five years of age stepped into the light. She smiled a brilliant smile to the others.
"For which I was more than willing to volunteer," she said in the voice of Brenlis, the woman who had first suggested this organization.
Several members gasped, and several turned to look at Brenlis' empty chair. Word had been that she was away on business and would not return for some time.
"How many souls?" One of the men asked, gripping his cane as he stood up.
"Three." Brenlis replied. "Exactly the number I had lost since that age."
"So it works?"
The mage replied: "It does. Your support of my organization has borne fruit."
The man turned back to Brenlis. "But Brenlis, while this is excellent news, I have a concern. How will you maintain your business as an eight-soul? For that matter, how will you explain this to everyone else?"
Brenlis smiled again.
"Like so, Corwyn." She reached for her necklace and pulled out an amulet from her bodice and clicked it open, revealing a small pin made of Seelite with a sapphire orb affixed to its back. She gripped the pin in one hand and turned her other hand palm up. She grimaced and pricked her finger. Instantly the Seelite flared red and Brenlis gasped as a soul was dragged from her body. She twisted the orb and touched the pin to her amulet and the pin went dark, while thin traceries of red began glowing on the amulet. She repeated this process twice more until the Brenlis they knew stood before them, pressing a cloth against her finger to stop the bleeding.
"This is how. I can be old in public, but young at home and abroad."
Applause sounded like thunder around the table, until Corwyn spoke once more, his voice cutting through the clapping.
"And where are you getting these souls?" He asked.
The Mage smiled. "You need not concern yourself about that. They are docile souls, if that is what you mean."
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~ At long last, the Reaper returned to the Tomb.
"What a mess." She said, looking at the toppled distillery.
2 PP: Found Organization: The Neverold foundation forms in the underbelly of Bahetshep 2 PP: Teach Populace: The Bahenet (and specifically the NEverold) learn fine manipulation of Seelite, allowing the blade to both take and GIVE souls. 1 PP: Denourish Populace: Halfling children are dissapearing. How odd.
"Ah! there was those from another place and another time far far from here, just like you. The likelihood of ever coming into contact with them though is none. For I do not know how I got here myself or where here is in the great realms. I just know that I am and that we are. Anymore is unnecessary. Now there are many like us, but only one you. Just like there is only one me."
Far, far up on the godspire~
Unknown and unseen to all, a small crack forms in the structure of the godspire itself. With all of the chaotic, divine, and other types of energies being released, manipulated, and thrown about, it seems this tiny fissure in the godspire has potential to grow larger if unchecked.
Donovyet concentrates his mind. He homes in on the one thing with which he has a strong connection: Inspiration. As he concentrates, his body fades away, briefly appearing as a double image.
-Bahetshep- In a dirty alley, a beggar awakens from sleep to a thunderous crack. he lifts his head from his wine-induced stupor to see a small, green man appear from thin air, steam rising from the now-baked clay smeared on his skin and on his simple pants. Looking for the thread of inspiration he sensed, Donovyet begins to search the town.
-Some time later- Jarrold looked at his family. His wife, Dalora, where had her smile gone? His children, Dalla and Safar, where was their joy? Tragedy had struck these good halflings. Their smallest child, Janra, had disappeared last week. She wasn't alone, wherever she had gone. Children had been disappearing from all the less-well-to-do halfling families. Jarrold addressed the halflings gathered that day, in the old warehouse.
"Friends, we are gathered here today to address the growing number of disappearances among our children. We've all talked about this in our homes, in our shops. We've all had sleepless nights worrying about who will be next. We've all met the one who can help us end this string of tragedies. I'll let him take the stage now. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Donovyet."
Donovyet takes the stage, looking out over the people he has found. They piqued his interest immediately, with how similar they looked to him, and they grabbed him again when he found that they had a problem he could solve. It wasn't going to be easy, though...
"I'll get right to business. We don't know who is taking the children, and don't know where. What we do know is that children are taken when alone, and that they are more vulnerable after nightfall. We need to approach this problem in two ways. Firstly, we need to protect our children as well as we can, to prevent more from being taken. Secondly, we need to find out more about who is taking them, and where. I can provide you with the means to accomplish both these feats, but you must trust me. Do you trust me?"
Though simple, his speech gained the acceptance of the crowd. They cheered, a little at first, but more as he reached the pause. When he asked his question, the warehouse walls shook with the little peoples' thunderous affirmation.
"Here is what we must do. First, a change in design..."
3PP Modify Populace: a subset of the Bahetshep halflings become goblins. 2PP: Found Organization: The Night's Eyes, a church of Donovyet with a focus on getting to the bottom of the disappearing children fiasco, is formed from the newfound goblins in Bahetshep.
Remaining PP: 6/11 (Is that right? 7 to start and 4 at the reset?
Ooooh, an interaction! And actually, PP cap is 9, so you're at 4/9. Also, the inhabitants of Bahetshep aren't halflings, but the transformation works just fine, of course... Im cradlerobbing the next region over!
~The Tomb of Itja-Rek~ "No, this will not do." The Reaper said, staring at the walls covered in algae. Where had it come from, anyways?
Her eyes followed the lichen, noting that it grew denser and healthier the closer it got to the Distillery.
Curious... she thought to herself, slithering closer...
~Bahetshep~ The Rumors of the small green men swept through the House of Elders like wildfire, first catching up the minds of the Five-soul beaurocrats and aides, and rapidly rising through the ranks until the rumors were mentioned daily in the Elder's conclave. Eventually, the one-soul leader of the Conclave, an Bahenet by the name of Dartan, who had been raised to the position by his fellow council members after they had voted in secret to remove the prior leader, cleared his throat and spoke.
"These beasts must have something that passes for a leader. Find him and bring him to me."
The Elders nodded. "Yes, Eldest" they said in unison. For, according to ancient tradition, what the Eldest decided became the will of the Bahenet.
~Godspire, Pym's Cave~ "I'll show them" The old woman muttered as she shuffled over to a new pile of objects. Once again, the same ritual. She lifted a plant, examined it for a time, and then placed it either to her left or right. "It is here too." She muttered to herself. "They cannot deny the brilliance of Pym now!"
Speaker-to-Trilobites had been hounded through the tunnels of the Twisted Hive for months now as the Bryofita of his... mother... (for lack of a better word) had poured into the superstructure. How The City had learned of his existence was beyond him, but that was unimportant at the moment. The Trilobita had been of little help, having gone into a stupor several years prior. It was only the connection to Son-of-Speaker-to-Trilobites that had saved him as the smaller version of his old form saw the fungal soldiers making their way into the Hive proper.
And so now, Speaker-to-Trilobites, in the form of a giant fungal worm, wended his way through the tunnels, always staying one step ahead of his pursuers with his extensive traceries of fungus. However, the mass was running out of places to hide.
It turned the corner and suddenly was at a room it had never seen before. Half flooded, the chamber would not have given it pause, had it not been for the sound of moving water coming from behind the wall.
IF I CAN ESCAPE... the Bryofite thought to itself, moving swiftly to the wall. Sure enough, there was a thin crack in the wall, the source of the water in the room. The Worm began to feed itself slowly through the wall, compressing its body into a thin sheet as it went.
And then came the PULL!
For beyond the wall lay the spiral rivers that connected the two ends of the Godspire. With a yank, Speaker-To-Trilobites was ripped through the wall, breaking apart into hundreds of globs of Bryofite matter.
WHAT IS HAPpening to .... Speaker-To-Trilobites thought as its conciousness grew dim and dissapeared.
~Godspire Pool, Sairok side~
The broken up bits of Speaker-To-Trilobites flowed out from the far end of the spiral river, and soon a mottled layer of fungus covered part of the lake. Slowly, each individual blob of fungal matter drew itself together, forming themselves into a myriad number of Bryofita. They looked at one another, and while they could sense each other in some manner, at the same time, they each had a distinct impression of uniqueness. They were not Speaker-To-Trilobites any more, they were all their own beings, independent, yet connected.
As they pulled themselves from the pool, a gentle voice filtered through their minds.
Go, children, and flee this place. For what destroyed me might also destroy thee. The City will try to find you here, for she cannot abide dissent."
The new Bryofita looked at one another and nodded, turning towards the west, where three great hills bent themselves into a curious form. What would they discover here?
With a slight popping sound, a dark spot appeared near Pollux. Souls began streaming from the hole in reality, assembling themselves into the familiar form of Itja-Rek.
"Oh good. I was worried I was mistaken. So many of our brethren have fallen asleep. How has time treated you, Pollux?"
2 PP: Nourish Populace: The Bryofita spread to the Triskelion, and at least the ones there have gained individuality. (finally, they are a PC race as I intended them to be ) 1 PP (from distillery): Blue-green lichen covers much of the Tomb. 2/9 remaining + (2/3)
Seeing the little green one vanish into air, Astriluxus chuckles a little knowing that Donovyet has probably gone to cause trouble somewhere!
Not long afterwards Pollux drops to one knee again as a new presence arrives.
"I am doing well my lord. As best as time can for one such as me. I do believe though that due to my gods blessing, time has no meaning for me though. If you are curious about it though you may ask him yourself." And with that he points behind Itja-Rek to Astriluxus.
"Itja! Long time no see. I see you have taken a somewhat new form from when we last met. Nicely done! Been busy? And what seems to be the occasion for the visit?" With that last one his eyes seem to narrow a little.
"What, Can't I stop in and say hello? You're the only other one I've found awake in ages!" Itja-Rek said, waving towards the rest of the world. "You would have thought they would care about their creations, but... apparently this is not the case."
"It is finished!" The old woman crowed to herself, closing the book and hefting it into a leather pouch.
Off she went, leaving the cave. It was time to return home to Bahetshep and show the fools what they had been missing.
Going all bright eyed "What? Everyone fell asleep? Bummer, and I was looking to more adventures with everyone! Well, I'm awake at least...." Switching to his more humaniod form, a table with tea cups and a steaming pot of tea appears. "Well, at the least I figure, a more suitible form. Care for some tea?"