The Island Chains of Perigo happens to be a large realm of vast water, though also a good amount of Islands. There are some larger islands that can sustain a city though that is not overly recommended with the amount of monsters that roam the realm. The Island of Tressel is a trading hub that is pretty much dead-center of the world and capable of dealing with the entire realm while also being fortified enough to repel most of the creatures that roam the Island. Roarke Island is a large island that holds a Gladiator Arena where those who are captured and enslaved or those who are willing to hold out in combat for higher stakes and advancement in the world by riches and fame; each of these fight in the Arena and most of them die. Roarke Island tends to be a chief competitor to Argus Island which, unlike Roarke half-way around the realm, doesn’t enslave or force others to fight but rather trains those willing to become Sailors to fight and repel boarders or even worse, creatures of the sea or even land whenever they come to port.

Tennumbris is currently an unexplored land continent, perhaps even the only continent the world has, which is a driving force for land-to-sea assaults against nearby coastal raiders. Gumbra is a larger Island that uses its trees as well as coral reef to craft their powerful fishing, sailing and/or Pirate ships that many other Islands pay for due to their high quality and the amount of wood available on that Island, which practically has little civilization, though hard and enduring people. To the far east of the world are the Minor Chains of Yin-Plae, Tomy-Gao, Fer-Anu and Hi-Zun, all four being much more competitive and fierce in their assaults against those outside of their Minor Chain, refusing to negotiate on a cease-fire, which usually keeps the two areas in constant warfare.

The Peraj are a hardy folk, doing everything they can to explore, adventure and understand new things at a comfortable pace while remaining strong and durable against roaming or hostile creatures. The Peraj are similar to a mixture of Norse Vikings and Privateeers of the Victorian era, though in the timeline as the others are. The Peraj love to do all of their duties aboard the ship as a promise that to follow in their prayers and leave no complaint, they find adequate sources of raiding or protection.

The Yin-Qut, however, are a hostile people. They were raised to learn Duty is the highest point, just shy of assault. Though they perform Piracy, they are usually mass murderers and Brigands rather than Swashbucklers or Sailors, more Deviants than Pirates. They praise only their greed and bloodlust, occasionally invading the seas of the Peraj and enjoying very little else. While they focus much on combat, they seek to understand things instantly and often skip steps to achieve the ends they need. They had the first ships, but even so their ships each sank after hitting the water. Having found out about the concept, the Peraj slowly began to construct while the Yin-Qut moved onto greater things like Carriages and Roads. Finally, after the Peraj construct a small line of Ships, the Yin-Qut stole their idea and made their own, continuously trying to rival the Peraj. Though they have larger islands, not all of them have numerous resources.

There have been numerous wars from the Yal-Siv/Endari invasion that ended both island’s worth of people to desolation and death at sea, while numerous sea battles have raged for over a thousand years, training these people to survive long depths of battle and naval tradition.

     Hoping not to appear in the middle of the Ocean, Desafon readies his twin Rapiers, ready for almost any sort of confrontation that might occur in this feral climate. He tries to take notice of his surroundings and appears to be more cautious than anything else in case something is out to get him.

Desafon appears within the ocean, simply because the Fates that be are sadistic, and finds that he can swim quite well in the warm currents. To the north, distantly, there is a small boat..

     Deciding to do the best that he can, he sheaths his two blades that he might swim better. He then begins the arduous process of swimming to the north in order to reach the boat that he might not have to swim anymore. Of course, if he believes that he might be entirely alone in these waters, he's no doubt going to be wrong, but he can trust that should he make it to the boat he might find himself at least temporarily safe against that which might exist in the water.

Desafon reaches the boat safely. The sun is warm on his back as he climbs aboard the rowing craft, and he is uncomfortable in his sopping clothes. His blades might rust..

On the rowboat there is nothing except for two men, both cut at the throat, both deceased. Who had cut them? Desafon knew them to be Peraj, which didn't bode well..

     Desafon moves to close the eyes of the two dead, looking over their bodies for any sources of monetary value or items of importance before he tosses their bodies overboard. He notices that in this conflict there was no duel. Just murder or assassination, which amounts to the former. Desafon mutters a light prayer that their souls should meet with whatever fate that their honor dictated in life before he looks for a direction that might lead to either ships or land... hopefully away from the Yin-Qut, as he assumes it was their brutality that caused the death of the two.

Naturally, there was nothing of value. They'd been stripped to their undergarments.

In the far distance - far, far, far distance - was it.. the trees of Grumbra?

He could taste salt.

     Desafon moves some of his hair out of the way as he begins to row the boat towards the direction of what looks to be the Trees of Grumbra. "Heave and a Ho, and the waters shall part. Tally and a Win, poor souls did ye depart." He sings lightly a tune he might have heard once before he rows onwards.

((OOC: Of course, assuming that there are oars in the ship. If not, this aughta be awkward using my arms.))
This message was last edited by the player at 13:56, Fri 04 Sept 2009.

He soon reaches Grumbra, and reaches a tiny village - no more than a settlement, really - on the beach. It's people, a hard-skinned mix of the two dominant races, look at him curiously.

     Desafon, having arrived on Grumbra, makes certain first and foremost that his hat isn't drenched before he strikes a very important Captain's pose and looks at the citizens or members of the village. "Greetings and salutations, people of Grumbra. Your savior, Desafon, has arrived." He bows deeply before smiling and moving along the village to try and find the leader of the village. "Where is your spiritual leader or Chieftain? I wish to speak to him."

A man steps towards Desafon, smiling wearily.

"I am he, the spiritual leader," he said, bowing a little. "Perldo, Chief of Storms, willing to serve. How can we assist you, Lord?"

     Stepping before Perldo, Desafon removes his hat only momentary to offer a very slight bow with a wave of his hat and a motion of his hand before he smiles. "Oh, Spiritual Leader, Chief of the Storms, I come to bless you and your people with my presence. I have come off of the wild waves of the Otherworld and across the back of Giant Beasts to arrive here to find this place. Well, maybe not specifically Grumbra, but this world. I come looking to lead it in prosperity and monetary wealth, as well as spiritual wealth. How is the village these days?"

"Things could be better," admitted Perldo. "I am Chief of the Storms, but lately they have not heard my whispers. Ships have been wrecked - fishing trips ruined, merchant vessels cast to the blue - and while, in the short-term, my people are celebrating the freedom that comes with a lack of pirates, we're running out of supplies. We're beginning to starve. We're overstocked on wood.. and that which we sell washes back a few weeks after the deal."

He sighed.

"Frankly, Lord, I'm at a loss as to what to do."

    Nodding towards Perldo, Desafon strokes his chin. "I see, I indeed see. I just recently found two dead men in a boat that look to have been murdered without honor. I am curious if this is what is occurring or if those savage Easterners have done something very... heretical." He looks about to the wood, "And all your ships are now gone?" He asks, curious. Even curious, Desafon makes a slight pose.

"There's no point sending them out. Most of our ships are on the northern part of the island, where the storms are less angry. We can't afford to let them be destroyed. As to the killings.. something's been murdering men on the sea, but I don't have the time or the resources to fully delve into it."

     "I understand, Perldo, as I was only asking about the ships, not asking about sending them into the storms. I am still trying to figure out a solution, though I personally am not a God of Storms nor a God of Investigation." He then ponders, stroking his chin. "I assume that was a fishing boat I rode in on here, instead of a general row boat or else you lost a complete ship."

"Yes, just a fishing boat. And one we'd considered lost, at that."

The day seemed to get darker. Clouds obscured the sun.

"Ah.. here comes another, Lord.."

He glanced around nervously.

"Would you excuse me, my Lord?"

     Nodding, Desafon excuses him, though he does ask, "Another storm or another Lord?" He asks, confused. He goes to follow after Perldo, though not looking to disrupt Perldo further. He seems a little less prideful and also less excited as he begins to ponder it all.

Another storm.

It starts to rain.

Now, it feels almost like twilight - almost like the sun has been fully eclipsed by the storm clouds.

Perldo dashes off, returns in his ceremonial outfit; sacred sandals, metal rod, black pants and mask. He starts to sing and dance, attempting to appease whatever force is behind the storm. It came so suddenly. The people in the village scatter, knowing that this ritual means that they should get to safety. Some go into the woods itself, while others enter caves and secure huts.

     Uncertain exactly what that means, Desafon decides to head away from Perldo, though remain fairly close to the storm as far as walking the earth meant. He seems ready to try and tell the weather what to do when he decides that his world isn't meant to be tamed. He then moves towards the direction of the fishing boat, to try and do what was already attempted before the murder. If he can catch the murderer, then perhaps he can make things easier. He goes to safety in that general direction if there is anywhere to hide to pass the time.

Desafon soon finds a rocky crag - smaller then a cave, but still able to give adequate protection - along the beach line. He'd be safe, fate willing, in there.

Max appeared here, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Surely a god of Piracy and Duels would have a cool realm.

He found himself on a large island, filled with woodlands - but he was on the beach. There was a storm gathering. It was raining - bucketing - and sleet drenched him almost instantly. Thunder roared and lightning lit the place like a lamp. He vaguely saw people in the distance scattering. The ocean looked menacing.

Max threw up the hood of his cloak, using air and fire magic in concert to keep the air under his clothing dry and warm as he ran to the treeline, seeking the arboreal cover they would provide. God or not, hypothermia was not pleasant in the least, and being soaked was uncomfortable and would hinder his movements if he was attacked. He had forgotten that tropical places, and places by oceans, got lots of rain..

Once within the woodland, he found the driest spot he could and huddled there, focusing and performing a small magical ritual to dry his clothing and warm him.

Max had neither the tools nor the ritual for advanced Air or Fire magic, but what he did have - honest need - was enough. He was warm and dry. He found a small hollow underneath a large tropical tree, and was dry enough there.

(Let's wait until Desafon posts)

(oi. He's not posting.)

(Would you care to continue, or would you like to return to Xi?)

(Sorry. I have a short period of time on Fridays to get online and can't get back on until after work on Mondays.)

     Desafon happens to be waiting in the crag, unless of course he happens to see someone unusual scrounging around. Holding his hat tightly to his head, he tries to protect it as well as possible from that position. Of course, should he have something, say a flying ship, covering the hat all would be well. He waits to see something unusual before he might come out to cover. If he does, he seeks to secure the hat, an important item to him. He scans around for any such thing. Of course, should a God feel a God here... he will indeed seek out the individual.

(Desafon: No worries. I'll take that onto account.)

Desafon knows - instinctively - that a hundred meters or so, on the northern beaches, a God had appeared. The storm was warming up, however, and lightning struck the skies, cutting it in two. Pain poured down magnificently, drenching the God.

     Not wanting to lose something that he had just gotten to, Desafon tries to find any piece of wood he can find that might not be wet, though of course the same type as what they make/harvest, in order to send it to the Valley Divine. After doing so he heads off towards the direction that the God has arrived from, though he seeks to find shelter from the rain as he goes to stop momentarily while the lightning crackles.

Desafon doesn't find the God - not yet, the rain is too strong and the weather too wild - but he does sense yet another Divine presence, high up in the air.. was that a balloon?

     Finding this whole thing disturbing, Desafon suddenly wishes he could fly so that he could contact the balloon(possible balloon?)-riding Divine entity. He decides that he might have to wait for the individual to land, however. He tries to find a good spot that he might be able to ambush that individual should they decide to land the balloon near him. As for the other God, he must wait. Still, however, he seeks a piece of wood that he might be able to transfer back to the Valley Divine to show as an example of his realm's lumber.

Max meanwhile, decided to strike up a conversation with his sword. "Hello, Blade. Do you have a name? I really like you, so I hope we can be friends."

It was easy enough to find an adequate piece of wood - strong, fine, of good quality.. Desafon found plenty of great specimens.

Just as quickly as quickly as it began.. the winds, the rain, the storm stopped. The clouds parted, showing a magnificently golden sun, and letting it's light hit the island. Damage, Desafon noted, hadn't been too bad to the village - the flash-storm was, quite luckily, just that; extremely quick.

He physically saw the balloon - a red and silver thing, up in the clouds, bearing the sign of the Conclave.

--

"No," said the blade.

That was all.

The rain stopped; the winds stopped; the thunder seized it's roaring. The storm had finished. The sun was out.

"Well, from now on you are the Divine Master Blade. Got that? Good."

He briefly considered that perhaps it had only a very, very simple mind, which was saddening. Having a friend who would always be there no matter what was comforting.

     Desafon sends the wood to himself in the Valley Divine to hand to the Wood Vendor. He smiles as he notices that the balloon doesn't appear to be something that is harmful. He steps out of the cover as he also notices the weather tone down. "Hello!" He calls out towards the balloon. "I must ask what it is you are doing here!" He shouts out again towards the direction of the balloon. He also keeps a look out for the other God, trying to remain on guard.

The balloon, now that the weather has calmed, drifted down towards Desafon.

"Order for food? I've got eighty crates of food, Conclave market!" he yelled. "Desafon? God of Piracy?"

He was lowering now, and Desafon saw a scruffy-looking mortal was piloting the thing. Around him many brown crates were stacked.

--

"Good," replied the blade. It said no more.

Max simply relaxed under the tree for awhile, closing his eyes and dozing off.

     Hearing the request, Desafon shouted out in glee, "Indeed, I have asked and no doubt you have heard. Praises be to you, friend." He is glad that extra five stones got him such fast service. He attempts to find the Shaman again to inform him of the food that is inbound. Otherwise, he still tries to remain alert as he knows there is a God not overly far from him on the island. He just shrugs and figures if the individual will be hiding from him, then they might not be worth the challenge of a duel. However, should they be the assassin who killed the two fishermen, then he will have to be even more cautious.

OOC: I wasn't certain how much kilogram = a general log of wood, thus I don't know how to respond on the Valley Divine.

((Wait, Desafon- has the rain stopped?))

(Sorry about the confusion.. I'll work something easier out)

(Yes, the rain has stopped - enough. It's still drizzling a little)

Desafon soon had the crates loaded onto the beach - and the balloon had quickly left the skies of Perigo.

The Chief of Storms was easy enough to find.. he was drinking what little rum was left and celebrating with the rest of the villagers. The storm had passed with minimal damage - almost unheard of, these days - and it must have had something to do with the sudden arrival of their Lord..

"Lord!" he proclaimed, bowing deeply. "Thank you for your kindness.. thank you for ending the storm!"

    Nodding and smiling, Desafon once again strikes a pose of nobility and leadership. Something a grand Captain would display before his crew. "Indeed, for it was a minor miracle. Just as, from such miracles, I have brought forth these..." He says, motioning for the Chief of Storms towards the crates, "I bring you food. Enough food to last a while. In exchange, I may have need of the excess wood that you have little use of at the moment. With it, I will be able to bring enough food to feed your people and perhaps... more to help your people." He smiles, proud to be the being he is. Of course, he didn't stop the storm as far as he knew, but instead he knows he brought the food, albeit he paid for it.

 Max ventured out of the forest, looking around for campfire smoke or other obvious signs of civilization. He dried his blade and sheathed it as well. He had forgotten that adventuring wasn't all fun and games- a lot of it was arduous travel by foot.

((OOC: Just gonna wait for the GM to make mention of if/when we might see/find each other or anything of the sort before I pose next))

The shaman grinned broadly at his Lord, prostrating himself before Desafon.

"Oh, thank you so much, Lord! This is truly a miracle! Take whatever you like, Lord, please!"

He stood back up - showing the audacity to hug Desafon - and then shouted joyous orders towards the villagers. They were to gather the crates and store them in the safest, driest place they had - the 'shaman's hut', a small natural cave-like formation underneath one of their ancient trees, where the Chief of Storms lived. The tree was said to possess mystical powers.

As Desafon watched the giddy villagers - extremely happy now that they've staved off starvation for another month or so - begin to cart crates, he saw a stranger - a light-skinned boy no older than fifteen - wandering along the beach, towards the village. This was the intruder-God, he knew.

--

Max soon found signs of a village, and the distant view of people. As he began to move towards it - after drying his sword and all of the other necessities looked after - he soon saw a medium-sized, red-haired, charismatic looking man watching progress of some sort within the village.. and knew this to be another God, likely the one who lay claim to this Realm.

Max waved at the redhead, smiling. He hoped the God of Duels wouldn't challenge him to a duel. Unless it was a fun duel like seeing who could catch the most fish or something, which would be both productive and competitive. What was even more curious is why a redhead, who burned very easily in the sun, would visit the tropics. He must be wearing a lot of sunscreen.

Max suddenly stopped, panic in his voice. "God Desafon! I bet you don't have the balls to fight, you lardass ginger! Come to my realm and fight,  unless you're a pussy!"

He then ran back to the Gate at full-on panic speed, leaping through.

     Though the Shaman was happy and overjoyed, Desafon didn't mind it one bit. He was, after all, the God of this realm and did his best to provide. Without his realm, he wouldn't doubt that he was little else. As the Shaman hugged him, Desafon's muscles tightened though he didn't resist or beat off the Shaman. After his excitement has left him, Desafon nods to him as a post-response to the hug. "For future reference, a hand shake is more acceptable than a hug. I... felt strange having a Shaman of mine hug me, as no doubt no other Lord or God has had that happen to them and their worshipers."
     As he sees someone wave to him, he raises an eyebrow, but at the challenge and the cowardly sprint to his own... gate? Desafon raises an eyebrow, "Why don't you stay here and fight me here instead of running away? That's very cowardly and dishonorable, to insult someone and run off like a frightened hare." He begins to slowly pace towards the Gate in case it remains... if he can even sense it. He looks back to the Shaman, "Do you know if that was the individual who might've been assassinating your fishermen?" He hmms and strokes his chin in thought for a moment, before guessing that he might have to send some sort of formal challenge through the gate via a letter. He looks at the Shaman again, "And do you happen to have ink and parchment? Something to write on in order to send a formal letter?"

The implication within Max's words was that the Gate would remain, and reality, for this rare moment, obeyed: the Gate, a rip in space-time that would send any who entered it hurtling to the intruder's Realm, remained. The slither of chaos and light could still be seen as a magnesium blur far along the beach.

"Sorry, Lord, I didn't .. didn't mean to show any inappropriate behavior," the Shaman stammered, obviously taken aback. "I'll .. shake your hand, next time."

A silence passed; Desafon continued talking.

"It could've been the killer, Lord. It could have been. I haven't seen any proof against it, honestly, and it makes sense. But from what I saw.. it was just a boy. A boy couldn't kill men like that..

"Paper? Oh, yes, we have paper, and ink. The ink we get from the squids caught down by the rocks. The paper, well, it's the finest paper in the land! Made, naturally, from the finest wood.."

He sent a villager off to fetch paper, and the villager soon returned with the heavy, hard, parchment-like material and writing instruments.

     Desafon chuckles lightly to the Shaman, "Please, don't worry. I took no offense, just, as I said, it felt a little awkward. I'm in a good mood other than that... boy that came in and insulted me." He then ponders, "Do you think I'd be honor-bound to answer the duel call of someone who rabbit-hops into a hole as fast or faster than they can issue an insult?" He strokes his chin, "Personally, as much as I figure it sounds insulting, I don't feel the need to avenge my honor. Though, of course, I'm conflicted. What is your opinion?" He asks before he goes to write anything.
     While that is happening, he goes to try and gather five hundred lengths of wood, unless that would make his resources extinct. Or, unless, there was no such amount at the moment that was cut and instead needed to be cut, in which he'll ask the Shaman to have cut (again, unless it would make the island's resources extinct).

"Hmmm. He deserves nothing less than death, Lord, for showing the nerve to insult you and your efforts. And yet.. he might not be worth destroying. It is not worth for me to kill every insect that I see. Perhaps you should just leave him."

Desafon learnt that in the Shaman's Cave they had four-hundred lengths of wood, and a hundred and fifty cut trees that needed to be cut and refined to lengths. This would drain all of the island's stocks, but wouldn't damage their actual resources - the trees still growing - at all.

     Nodding his head, Desafon agrees, "I don't think its even worth it either." He then returns the ink and parchment, before he looks around, "Are there any other problems other than the murders and the storms?" He asks, uncertain.

"Not entirely, my Lord," said the Chief of Storms, "But there is.. well, the people say that there is a weirding spirit in the woods. It usually falls within my purview to deal with such things, on the rare occasions that they arise, but with the death of the Chief of Matters.. I have had to take the roles of bother leader, sorcerer, seer, elder and priest. It is a difficult thing. It does not seem wise to trek to the middle of the island - a solid three day hike - especially when I am needed so direly here, but the people are scared. I do not know what to do."

     Nodding, Desafon smiles, quickly drawing his rapiers and twirling them about before he sheaths them again... only for effect and not aiming at anybody at all (most importantly the Chief/Shaman). "No problem. I will, however, need to use four hundred lengths of wood. Believe me, we will be fine with what all we have. I will look towards the wierding spirit in the woods." He says this, sets a strong pose of a man in charge before he begins to walk off, "In which direction?" He asks, wanting to know which way to set himself. He goes to transport the four hundred lengths of wood first, however, to the Vendor in the Valley Divine.

It takes a small while to fully transport all of the lengths to the warehouses of Desafon's new business partner, but it is done.

"Towards the centre of the island," said the Chief of Storms, pointing to a blasted cliff-face which in turn led to the famed forests of the land. "It dwells in a place called, um, the Oasis. I do not know why. The sailors coined that name.."

He seemed a little nervous. Was he hiding something?

     Looking towards the Chief of Storms, for the first time noticing that he might not realize the importance of Desafon, Desafon begins to move closer to him. "You have been good and faithful so far. Why is it, however, I sense that you are hiding something from me?" He asks, drawing himself up in a way that suggested that he might be somewhat angry. "You know, I came here for a reason. I have come to take this realm under my control and to make things here into a marvelous land of adventure and perfection to look upon. I want you to be in a good position when that happens. However, if I feel I cannot trust a good and loyal servant..."
     He says this before he pats his weapon, "I may be a God, but I am a God of Piracy and Dueling. I put my blades before my powers and believe me, nobody in this village or perhaps even this realm is as capable with a sword as I. You best recall that while I am a merciful and honorable God, so too much the people underneath me be worthy of such honor. A man that shirks from honor and lays more towards lying is dishonorable. And I abhore dishonorable fiends."

The Chief, for the first time Desafon had seen, shrunk with terror.

"It's nothing.. Lord.. I mean.. nothing.."

He seemed ashamed.

"But before you were here.. Lord.. the people of this island.. they worshipped.. something else.."

There were tears in his eyes. He was a loyal servant.

     Finding that they had worshiped another being, Desafon himself begins to show less hostility, calming himself internally. "That... was it? That was what you were holding back?" He asks, before he almost laughs. "Here, I thought you were trying to get rid of me by staging some sort of ambush by more powerful beings." He actually does laugh at that point, "Please, I apologize." He says, going to the Chief and patting him on the back, "Its fine. I understand that you and the people had worshiped someone before I arrived and I accept that. However, as long as you understand that I'm here to stay and that this... Wierding Spirit is going to die a very painful... well, can a spirit die a death?" He asks, uncertain. "I guess I'll find out. There are grand things that will be coming to this realm soon. We will become grander. That, I promise."

"I.." the Chief breathed out. "I am relieved, Lord."

He did not know this, but many Gods would show immense wrath at the 'poaching' of their worshippers, even in the past, and many had taken this anger out on their people; it was an instinctive reluctance, the product of millions of years of divine-mortal relations.

"His name was Laverstus. Before.. before, this island was also called Laverstus. It is said that his hard work and his favour is what made this island great. His breath borne the greatest timber. He has not been worshipped for decades, Lord, but - I have no doubts that he still exists, in one twisted form or another.."

     Desafon, however, will reserve his wrath for the older God as the older God commited Piracy of a sort and being a more honorable man, Desafon seeks to diminish Laverstus's hold now entirely. "What made this Island great is its people. Now, however, Faith in me will increase this island's greatness and when I am done with Laverstus, we will show this world and the outer Realms just how great we are." He says this, looking up in a grand pose before he nods once more. "Its time to take care of some business and remove the competition." He begins to walk off towards the location of Laverstus, "And fear not, I shall return!"

The path was a long one.

He crossed the beach; climbed the small, rocky cliffs; travelled through the open farming fields. Eventually, he came upon the cutting yards, where the trees were being regrown. He stopped at the edge of the mighty woods - the ancient woods. They were older than Desafon himself - older even then the idea of Desafon. The path dwindled a little, but continued into the depths of green..

A man stood silently, watching Desafon approach.

"Stop!" cried the man, as he got closer. "Inside is sacred ground. You may not go further."

The man had long, blond hair, and was dressed in light silk. A cutlass was strapped to his side.

     After such a progress as he was making, Desafon almost decided that there would be nobody there to interrupt or intercept his further movement. However, seeing as there is, Desafon eyes the individual until he realizes there might be some form of a chance that he'll have an interesting duel. "Sacred ground, you say? By whose definition? Would that be Laverstus the Deceiver of my people?" He asks, looking around, "Or would that be yours? Are you a mortal follower of his or are you worthy of my attention?"
    He asks, wanting to be certain before he might need to draw his blade. Of course, any movement that the individual might make towards his cutlass will send Desafon to draw his own rapiers to prepare a parry and a riposte.

"I am Pernassus," said the blonde man, "Guardian of this place. Yes, I am the servant of Laverstus, but I take offence to your claims of deception. He was worshipped by the people of this place long before the Dyahsefahn Cult came to prominence."

He looked at Desafon; came to a decision. His eyes widened only for a moment, a testament to the calm rationale of Pernassus the Blade.

"Ah. Forgive me. You, I think, are Dyahsefahn, are you not?"

His hand did not reach for his blade.

     Desafon raises an eyebrow before he begins to try and understand the man's rationale. "Hmm, it seems to be a dilemma here. Yes, I am Desafon... and its said as 'Dess-uh-fun'," he doesn't say it like he was trying to insult the man, but rather more informative. "And yes, I recognize that the worship was long before my arrival. However, I have not held the people accountable for what they worshiped in the past. I am told that Laverstus is in this general location and that he is disturbing my people. I often don't come to insult gentlemen, but as I wish to advance these people, this realm and advance myself as well to higher standards."
     "I must find some way for either Laverstus and I to co-exist without displacing either of us and allowing for me to represent myself and this realm to the God world beyond, or I will have to do as I must to challenge him, even if it means challenging you. Now, I am an honorable man and as such, I will do this to show it," he says, sheathing his blades entirely (I think I had them unsheathed). "What say you, Pernassus? How should we continue this? I am a Master Swordsman or close to it, and I am always itching for a fight, but I will not cause it without due reason but neither am I blood-bound to rage."

"Dessuhfun," said Pernassus, repeating it. "Desafon. I respect your honour in this matter, and I am thankful that you did not just attack me outright. A lesser man would have succumbed to his rage. I am afraid, however, that I've been given orders, from my own Lord, to not allow anyone to pass into these woods. Including - especially - yourself. I apologise for that."

He took out his blade, unsheathed it slowly - but not aggressively.

"I'm afraid, Desafon, that despite my warmth towards you, that if you do not leave we will have to fight. This distresses me, but I am sure you understand my position; I cannot allow you to pass. I, also, understand - as best as one can - your position, and bear you no grudge. You are considered the Lord of Duels in some parts of the world. If I am not beneath you.. shall we?"

     He understand what is being spoken and he nods, "I hold no grudge either and I consider a man of whose morals and honor you have displayed to not be underneath me. The boy who insulted me and ran, he was beneath me. But you? You are not. However, I do wonder, before we strike blades together, what are the terms of victory? I doubt it will be to the first blood, but is death necessary? If I beat you and leave you living, would that be enough?" He does draw his blades, but he doesn't make any surprise attack against the man. He stands straight, wanting to know how they shall proceed at the end of the fight. "Unless we have an alternative to this situation. Will Laverstus come and meet me if I cannot enter his land?"

"I cannot say if the Lord will come see you," said Pernassus. "My role is to guard, not to communicate. I like you, Desafon, and I respect you enough to engage in an honourable duel. Shall we say.. to death or to, perhaps, first concession? Let he who gives up walk away the lesser man. If I fall, I will happily stand aside."

     Nodding, Desafon's blades already drawn, "I agree to these terms and even will be one step more generous. I will allow you the first strike, though of course if I can defend myself against it I shall. I don't mean to say a 'free hit', but rather a first strike." He bows lightly before he waits on the gentleman to move to strike before he attempts to defend himself.

"No, please," said Pernassus. "I insist. You are, of course, only fighting for what is rightfully yours.. and I stand in your way. Please. Strike first."

His blade was out, gleaming in the sun.

     Desafon has to admit, he feels very good about this individual and should there be no death, he might have a place for this man. "Then we shall begin, Pernassus." He says this, steadying himself before he lunges forward with one rapier, moving to strike at the man's blade before he goes to strike it at the other end with a thrust from the other rapier, attempting a Pincer maneuver against the blade Pernassus carries.

Pernassus's blade is swift, a silver blur that parries both strikes and then slashes conservatively towards Desafon's sword-arm.

     Desafon realizes that this man is good. Realizing this, Desafon envokes his Flurry of the Duel power to attempt to parry the attack and riposte with his own against the man's blades. "You are very highly skilled, Pernassus. I am indeed just as highly impressed and think this will be a wonderful duel." If this doesn't work, then perhaps he'll have to invoke some form of Chance magic.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:21, Tue 13 Oct 2009.

The blade spun left - right - right - and Pernassus's blade shattered under the intensity of it. He was now weaponless.. the Flurry was too powerful.

"Good - impressive," he grunted.

     Nodding, Desafon bows gently, "I might be wonderful with my blades, but I had to see if you might have been hiding some power or skill that might have dispatched me." He says this, before he then ponders, "Do you require further combat? If so, I might lend you one of my blades and we could continue if you must, but I'd rather the less bloodshed needed situation." He looks at Pernassus, "After all, should you be willing I'd enjoy having you along when I raise this realm out of its current state and into a higher light amongst the other Gods."

"No.. you win.. fairly.. I submit myself to you, master duelist Desafon.." huffed Pernassus, truly beaten, his blade scattered in a dozen pieces about the land.

     Nodding, Desafon bows his head. "In that case, I accept the result of the duel. Don't be upset, I had to fight with the greatest part of my skill to keep up with you. You did wonderful. If you wait a moment, I wish to speak to Laverstus and if needs be, I will do more than that." He says, before he looks to see if there is a Balloon coming in the distance. If not, he will continue forward.

Desafon looked up and saw a bright red Conclave-balloon. On its face was a shining silver D.. it was a grander balloon than the one that came before. Domoni made good business..

There was a loud crack, and Desafon staggered to the ground. His heart, it felt, had exploded. The smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils. He'd been shot in the chest. Pernassus stood nearby, grinning, a long knife in one hand - and a pistol in the the other.

"That's why you'll always lose," said Pernassus. "There's no room for honour in this world."

     Desafon looks at Pernassus (I haven't seen that I am injured or badly injured text-wise, so I assume I'm alright?) and shakes his fingers in a 'naughty, naughty' pose. "You see, that might be a good trick against the natives, but here's the problem. I'm a God!" He says, using his Quickdraw ability to bring his weapons to full bear before he rushes forward towards Pernassus, "And you've got it the other way around," His blades are aimed to kill, "There's no place for you."
     Should this end now, Desafon looks up to the balloon, "Very good timing!"

Pernassus wasn't expected such a speedy strike. The blade flashed, and his head rolled. His body soon followed, embracing the ground and vomiting blood.

Desafon hurt. The bullet had hit his torso, and he was bleeding quite violently. He felt weak. His head hurt. His chest throbbed with even more pain.

The balloon lowered at Desafon's call. It was Domoni.

"Ho, Desafon!"

((Never asked before. How do Gods heal themselves?))

     Feeling hurt, Desafon tries to hide that state from Domoni. "Damn honorless curr had to shoot me while I wasn't expecting it." He then returns a weak wave to Domoni, "Good timing, Domoni. I just finished that honor duel."

(Time, powers, doctors, life magic, typically. You'll heal well enough in time.)

"Ah, good!" called Domoni. "I didn't want to .. holy hells! You're wounded! You've been shot, Desafon!"

An expression of panic and compassion masked the typical grin. He actually cared for Desafon.

     Nodding to Domoni, Desafon seems to come to that same conclusion himself. "Yes, it would seem that the individual formerly known as Pernassus, whom I had entirely considered to be a trusting and honorable man, had been bested by me easily enough though after he yielded, and I turned my attention from him, the bastard shot me. I was able to return the favor, however, in more extremes. I'll live, though I don't know if I'll be able to defeat the previous Lord of this realm at this moment." He says, disappointed.
     Looking to Domoni, Desafon retrieves the conclave stones that were offered as payment for the blades (unless I already paid, can't recall). "I hate delaying that which should be done immediately. And I also hate cowards and liars." He then smiles, "Though I do appreciate your concern for my health."

"No, no," said Domoni. "Don't pay until you try them. I insist. Here, let me.." He jumps back into the balloon, retrives a set of silver, paper-thin sabers. "The Blades of Efficiency. A set of two. Here, try them.." He threw the set to Desafon, who presumably caught them. "The swords maximize combat efficiency, as their name hints," continued Domoni, "which means that a blow which would usually be glancing, or cause a flesh wound, always strikes a vital point.. making you an extremely deadly warrior. More deadly than usual, anyway. What do you think? Does the weight suit you?"

The weight, of course, was perfect.. it seemed made for Desafon.

     Listening to Domoni, Desafon does indeed catch them before he feels their weight and is very pleased with it, "Yes, they feel wonderful." He says as he begins to try them out by twirling them around in his hands and practicing an easy maneuver before performing a harder maneuver. Away from Domoni, of course. If the maneuvers work out well, he'll be pleased enough to pay.

The maneuvers work perfectly. They were almost the perfect blades. There was no immediate flaw in their design.. they felt natural to the touch.. and comfortable to wield. Desafon was filled with joy.

"If they please you," said Domoni, "That'll be, uh, five point five thousand, right?"

     Nodding to Domoni, Desafon takes the 5500 conclave stones and hands them over to  him. "That, my friend, was the arrangement." He says, as he looks back towards the blades, happy. "If I can get to feeling better soon, I won't have to head back to my village." He looks back to Pernassus to see if he had anything of use other than the gun.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:15, Fri 16 Oct 2009.

Pernassus had a silver dagger strapped to his leg - perhaps a religious icon? - and a tiny red amulet stringed around his neck. Besides this, his pockets contained a little gold and he carried a few round bullets, but not much else.

"Thank you, friend!" called Domoni, as he flew off. He had more work to do, more visits to arrange..

     Nodding and waving Domoni off, Desafon retrieves the silver dagger as well as the tiny red amulet and the gold, as well as the firearm and the bullets, uncertain just what else he might do with it. Not being a cruel god, he leaves the body intact before he attempts to bury it with whatever might work best. He doesn't, however, place a marker as he would rather this dishonorable curr exist restlessly in his afterlife (wherever that might be) as a sign of his dishonor. "May you rot in the Hells, Pernassus, until you find honor and fairness."
     Finding himself a little better, he goes off to search for Laverstus (sp?).

Once Pernassus has been buried, Desafon enters the great forest. He soon realised the blasphemy in cutting such trees - they'd existed for centuries upon centuries, and the place retained a feeling of sacredness that unnerved the Pirate God. He soon entered the center of the forest - an open glade filled with the greenest grass Desafon had ever seen. In the center of the glade, sitting and reading a dusty tome, was an old, sickly being.

As he saw Desafon, he smiled thinly and waved.

     Even though he realized its sacredness, Desafon understands at the same time that such sacredness could perhaps be created by another God. Looking at the individual, Desafon strangely enough waves. "Hello. Would you be the master who had that honorless curr Pernassus on a leash? He shot me after I had honorably defeated him. I would have let him live and retain his honor except he shot me after our duel."
     He looks towards the individual, "Is there anything you would like to discuss? I would like to have conversation to decide just how I should continue this."

As Desafon got closer to the old, kindly man, he realised something was horribly wrong.. the man's eyes were of the deepest, darkest purple almost black, and looked at Desafon with an alien intelligence that made him shudder deep inside.

"Hello there, Desafon," said the man. "Yes, I am Laverstus, and this is my sacred forest. I understand that you killed Pernassus. No matter. He was unfit for the Change, regardless. Will you sit and drink with me?" He gestured to two mugs and a pot of steaming tea nearby.

     Looking at the man, Desafon seems very wary, "Oh, I won't mind sitting down, though I must most graciously refuse the drink. You see, I've got an aversion to many different types of drinks. My own concoctions, unfortunately, are all I'm able to drink. My own special recipe." He says, watching him, hands never too far from the blade, "And after the betrayal from Pernassus, you should no doubt fault me for being cautious. I'm certain that you would be as well were our positions changed." He says, then strokes his chin, "Speaking of Change... what were you talking about?"

"The Change," smiled Laverstus. "When everything becomes one, and you become everything. You may understand, one day. No tea? Hmm. A pity. It's good," he sipped, "But if you change your mind, please, help yourself. No, I do not blame you. I used to rule this place, before, you know. But then I stopped. I rather prefer this little island."

His eyes were like pits..

     Desafon attempted to keep from looking him in the eye. "Yes, I understand. However, I come to a problem. Even though you were ruler of these lands, the people still see you as a challenge to my authority. Whether you back out entirely or not, you shall remain as the Chaos to my Order. That, Laverstus, is my problem. Usually, conversation and a chance of peace might be maintained before combat... but as I am uncertain as to how this must end, I know that peace is out of the question. The only question I have is, will you leave this realm? That is perhaps the only way we might get out of this situation without a fight."

"I will not leave this Realm, Desafon," apologized Laverstus. "I intend of erecting a great Abbey here, to my monastic Order.. and I will not allow for my plans to be interrupted. No. Too much at stake. I am sorry, Desafon. If you wished, however, I propose an alternative: how about you join me? You felled Pernassus, did you not? Would you care to serve me until the Change, and join the ranks of the Mad? Or will you kill me where I stand?"

He sipped loudly at the tea.

"You must try some of this," he said at once. "It is really very good."

     Desafon listens to Laverstus, nodding at last. "Ah, yes, I have heard a little bit about the Mad Gods." He says, his hands now moving behind his back, though in truth he positions them in a very decent location to prepare to draw his weapons, "You see, now we come across to a major debate. Mad Gods or Trading capability? If I am correct, you would thrive off of Chaos in a bad way. As in you care little for people. I, however, do care for people... and what's more..." He then quick draws his weapons, "I don't serve dishonorable curs!"
     Desafon leaps forward to strike with twin thrusts.

The blades sung as they cut into the soft flesh of Laverstus, who fell silently to the floor. Black blood seeped from wounds and mouth, and he twitched suddenly as he curled back up, laughing manically. Another strike and he was dead.

A shadow fell over Desafon. It was as if an eclipse had come..

Did he want to look up.. ?

     Desafon feels wonderful now that the evil, horrible thing is dead. Of course, the fact that there is an eclipse coming doesn't really reassure him. He indeed raises an eye to what is going on, blades at the ready. "Oh, Laverstus. Are you still alive?" He asks, wondering if this god is some form of Druidic deity that has reverted to a weather form.

It would seem that Laverstus was not some druidic deity.

Obscuring the sun was a massive beast, horrifying in its majesty. Part spider, part dragon, part squid, part masterdivineknowswhat, it was a mass of tentacles and arms and eyes and spikes.. to many eyes! To many eyes! It's maw was a gaping thing, as if a portal to the Gnarled Abyss..

It was large enough to block out the sun.

Desafon felt fear. He felt his mind scatter..

     Desafon indeed knows very little as to what to do. All he can think of is to ask, "Do you seek a duel? If so, you could come down here and give me a moment to compose myself." He says, attempting to straighten both his hat and his hair as well as his own composure if time is given. "Swords would be best to duel with." He goes to stab Laverstus once more to see if that helps.

There no answer.

Laverstus, stabbed several times, remained dead.

The hideous leviathan above Desafon descended slowly upon him, writhing and retching and gibbering and staring..

Desafon felt fear.

     The only comfort he has at the moment is that if he stabs Laverstus enough, this will all end. Of course, should they come close to touching or grabbing him, he'll gladly teleport to a dead realm (perhaps Jormungandr?) rather than remain here with something so horrible.

The Mad Thing descended - slowly.

Luckily, Desafon - before it had fully devoured him - ducked through another portal..

A forbidden pier - strange sands - an alter revealed -

He was in Jormangandr.

     Having arrived back in his land, Desafon seems to be heavily confused at what is going on. He heads towards the Chieftain/Shaman if he can find him to see what is going on.

The Chieftain found Desafon first.

"Lord!" wailed the Chief of Storms. "It is horrible! Paldo village, on the other side of the island.. destroyed! Ruined! Attacked, some say, by the leviathan of the sky.. by Laverstus himself! What do I do, Lord?"

     Raising an eyebrow, Desafon grumbles, "That's not Laverstus. I killed him, stabbed him to death. What we're facing with isn't a real God but a Demon of the worst kind called a 'Mad God'. As far as what to do, I don't have the slightest idea. I'm about to try and figure out some way to get together some other Gods to work this out, but... as for the other village there is nothing I can do."

"I see."

The Chief of Storms frowned.

"You say .. there is nothing you can do. But. There is something - a weapon, a stave, passed down from Shaman to Shaman throughout the centuries, never to be used unless the entire island was lost. I"m not sure what it can do - I dare not pick it up - but I am sure, if it is truly needed, it could help. It is by necessity a spirit-bound, dangerous item, however.."

     Nodding to the Chief of Storms, Desafon scratches his chin, "Fine. By all means, I will take this staff up and do whatever it takes to get this foreign devil out of my lands!" He looks about, interested in doing little else than removing the Mad God's presence from his Realm.

"I warn you," said the Chieftain. "My tradition speaks of it's terrible power, of the wrath it can unleash upon this land. Use it only if you must. If you truly need it, however, I can get the stave."

     Looking to the Chieftain, Desafon looks back towards the direction that the Mad God is, "I'm pretty certain this Devil of the Planes is something in which I am not even close to being able to fight. This Stave must be produced in order to save the Realm. And if not... then we shall find out either way with the Stave destroying us or this Mad God."

There is smoke, obscured somewhat by the light rain and wind, in the distance. The death of a village..

"Come. I will show you the stave. Once you have it, you must enter the northern lighthouse. There, in the furthest room, is a deep chasm - the Well of Seas. Drop the stave in there. I'm not sure what will happen then, but - but it will surely kill the thing."

The Chieftain takes Desafon to his smoke-hut, and then shows him an exotically carved ivory box, the images of strange gods patterned across it in a beautiful pattern.

"There it is, my Lord."

     Nodding, Desafon follows the Chieftain to the spot before he looks more heavily towards the direction of the outside. He turns his attention to the box and nods, "Then we will do as we are needed to do, Chieftain." He says this as he moves to take the box and its contents, "Be safe, for when I return I would wish that you are still here." He says this before he moves off to head towards the northern lighthouse, hoping to keep away from any tentacle monsters that might be headed his way.

Taking the box, and it's contents, Desafon soon comes upon the great wooden lighthouse. The door is locked, but Desafon knows that he could force it if needed.

     And, indeed, as the need is great and the reason just, Desafon will then force the door (unless something unexpected occurs) open.

The door, weak wood, shatters with the force of Desafon's might. It reveals a dark, dank room, unkempt and unused, with stairs leading to the chambers above and to the basement below.

     Deciding that the well would no doubt be in the basement, Desafon begins to head off towards the basement in search of this well that shall, with the assistance of the stave, ward off the evil Mad God.

The Well is nothing more than a dark, bleak gash upon the basement floor of the Lighthouse, something blacker and more twisted than Desafon could have imagined. He knew, immediately, that this was a Well that bore no water.. his eyes crawled just looking at it, and he suppressed a shudder.

     Uncertain for the first time if what he is doing is for the best or not, Desafon peers back knowing that people are dying. Never let it be known that Desafon, God of Piracy and Duels, is any form of coward. He immediately turns back towards the Well, whether it crawls with insects or plagues, before he looks towards it, dropping the stave into it, "May whatever powers that listen destroy this foul Mad God and the damnable force it rode in on."

(Wow, nice line.)

Nothing seemed to happen.

There were no immediate flashes of light; no booming thunders; nothing out of the ordinary, except..

Yes, in the distance.

A scream.

A scream - however distant - that, Desafon knew, came from the Mad God itself.

     Desafon, after hearing that scream, decided to move out as fast as he could, hopeful that if there is anything that he can do he may before further loss of life occurs.

He couldn't.

The crash that then occurred shook the island, a vicious quake that threw Desafon to the ground, and the God heard another wail - the Mad God, dying.

     Trying to move out of the Lighthouse as wobbly as he is, Desafon moves to try and keep close to the walls to where he can attempt to keep from falling. Though he's capable of standing easily on moving ships, a quaking island is much different.

The island, fortunately, soon stops quaking.

Desafon is able to walk straight once more.

     Desafon, again, attempts to leave the lighthouse to see what new changes have occurred and just how many of his people are left alive.

Outside, another storm had gathered - black fell across the sky, obscuring the sun, and the temperature had dropped considerably. Waves crashed upon the sand, and Desafon - for a momentary flight of fancy - though, perhaps, that the waves were steadily growing bigger, gathering force so that they might destroy the island.

Outside, the immediate village was fine - the Chief of Storms was getting people to cover, organizing small armed forces to escort the villagers to higher land, all the while muttering appeasements to the storm.

"Lord," he said, panicked, "We shouldn't have - yak-nakhu rashga! - shouldn't have used the - the stave!"

     Desafon, looking towards the Chieftain of the Storms, shook his head. "It must have been used. I will do whatever I can to transport us from this island to somewhere safe, but I cannot promise that it will work to save us all. Whereas this island might fall, if we didn't use the stave the whole realm would have been lost. While I did not wish to sacrifice this island, I must say that it was a sacrifice that must have been." He says, sighing, "I don't even know if this island was the sacrifice or what will happen, as I'm still fairly new to this."
     Desafon hopes to open a portal to another realm that he might transport those still surviving to another realm, even if it is temporary. He, however, will remain behind to ensure that as many that he can save will be saved. "Chieftain, you must lead them into this portal. I will keep it open as long as I can to save as many people as I can. If I can get everyone in, I will try to transport the necessary supplies as well."
     He opens a portal to a dead realm, hopeful that it might be somewhere that his people might survive. Out of those that he might have seen or heard of before, the only one that sounds even somewhat hospitable is The Lesser Belvairien. He looks towards the Chieftain disappears, "It will be cold here, but better than the other realms I might have transported you and your people. Seek out warmth as soon as you can and remain together. I will come find you."

"Yes, Lord," said the Chieftain, looking extremely worried. He delegated the task of managing the people to several others, and starting the hurried process of guiding them into Balvairian.

As his people are being ushered through the gate, Desafon has a much more difficult task he must suffer. He begins to try and find the location of the Mad God's body to attempt to discover anything he can about it and, if there is nothing to personally discover, he will seek to recover it.

The Mad God had died on the other side of Grumbra, taking much of the village with it. Broken bodies littered the place. It was a huge thing, with many legs and eyes, purple scales rippling across its body. Desafon saw that the beast had hundreds of gnashing teeth across its body, and shuddered. The smell of rotting Mad God was horrendous. He retched.

Finding himself unable to leave the villain in his ruined village, Desafon does the best he can to cover it over. At the same time, he begins to try and take count of the dead.

There were easily two hundred dead, maybe more. The massive, rotting body of the Mad God dominated the landscape. There was no way Desafon could shift it by himself.

Pitcarn and jasper appear in Perigo, and Pitcarn immediately begins to try and orientate himself with his surroundings, hoping that he has arrived on the right island. he also begins to look for anything that he might be able to use to burn the island.

He especially looks for Desafon.

(Desafon, this is a courtesy message. You are still manifested within the Isles of Perigo. I will reply now to Pitcarn, as his actions have little impact on your Realm, but then you will need to respond within four or so days if you wish for a response. I'll delay the next post accordingly. This will continue unless you miss two or so responses, in which case I'll GM Pitcarn freely, having delayed him a week or so. This is just a warning in the name of fair play - it'd suck for me to post on-off-on-off with him over a handful of days and you lag behind, especially in matters of Realm.)

Pitcarn

It was raining lightly. Pitcarn was within the center of an open, grassy field, surrounded by lush trees on every side.

((Nah, I was actually still waiting in my spot for those Wizards to come and get the body.))

Desafon waits in his one spot, watching and waiting over the body of the Dead Mad God, having already sold the rights of it. He strokes his chin, waiting for the weather to calm down considerably before he considers bringing his people back. Hopefully they aren't dying in the location he portal'd them to.

Pitcarn looks around, to check if he is where he wanted to be. He looks espcially for signs of destruction, corpses, and anywhere that the creature might be hiding.

Desafon

A man coughed behind him.

There were four of them, each dressed in brown robes, smiling awkwardly. The first stepped forward to take Desafon's hand. A small man, with big eyes. He looked semi-fish.

"Ah, Affiliate Desafon, yes," he said. "I am, yes, Verbalus Exemplar Johdar. Thank you for selling the body to, yes, the pursuits of science. If you do not object I will summon the spirits of travel to take this ugly thing off your hands."

Pitcarn

Pitcarn found a shattered tea set - well, mostly shattered. There was one mug still steaming, filled with tea. Perhaps this was Desafon's favourite resting spot. The tea smelled very good.

Suddenly, Pitcarn was Pitcarn and a small amount of soldiers surrounded him.

"Tea," said one. "You gonna drink that, boss?"

"We're not here to be drinkin' tea," said his sergeant. "Are we, Pit?"

Placing the cup down on the ground, concious not to spill any of the tea, Pitcarn looks at the soldiers.

"No Sergeant, we are not here to drink tea. That would be a delicious and relaxing waste of our time. We are here to kill things.

"God things."

Pitcarn looked at Jasper, and hoped like fuck that he hadn't brought the Ackee to his death.
Once again, Pitcarn attempted to find the location of Desafon, which had been interrupted by the arrival of teh soldiers. He aims to set out immediately, hoping that the Pirate God is nearby.

     Looking towards the explorers, Desafon had just finished his watch of the body with their arrival, "Good, good, you have come. I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait too long. I have been keeping the body safe for you." He then nods his head, "If that is how you seek to do what you need to, please do. I have no problem with it." He smiles, having already been paid. Of course, he simply watches the explorers with a good grin on his face and waits for them to leave with the body before he may continue with checking the island for its safety.

Desafon

"Of course, of course," said the Verbalus Exemplar. "We thank you once more for your contribution to the Babilu. Aghramahr! Nakh! Nahakahta!"

His roar was sudden, and as he yelled he threw down three small glass bottles. A gust of wind rushed past Desafon as they burst open, knocking down some of the smaller sorcerers, and the Mad God was suddenly gone, though the stench remained.

"Potent conveyancing spirits," said the Exemplar. "Immediately useful. Good day, friend." He stepped through a portal, then, the others behind him.

Now that the Mad God was gone, Desafon immediately sensed trouble on the island. Another God - in the field where he'd met the Mad God originally.

Pitcarn

Pitcarn is immediately met with wild forest. Who knows how far it would go, how deep it was. There was smoke in the horizon.

"Pit," said the Sargent, apparently considering himself on affable terms with the God of Food, "Why don't we start burning right here? If the Mad's been around we shouldn't be taking any chances. That tea could've been one've it's tricks, you know?"

"And I am.. immediately uncomfortable within the forest," said Jasper.

Sensing the appearance of another God, Desafon realizes that his people still aren't safe. He decides to try and find his way towards the path but through a parallel track so that he might be able to catch them off-guard.

"Burn the tea. I agree all too well with you sergeant, it could be a trap. My orders specifically warned me to be aware of beverages and other gifts. Don't burn anything yet, The god of this realm, Desafon, still doesn't know why we are here, and I may yet be able to reason with him.

"Once I've gauged his reaction, we will begin burning, and he will either obey the wishes of the Conclave and stand aside or he will be broken before it's will.

"And sergeant: If I give the word, Desafon may need to be the first thing we burn. If I tell you to burn him, don't waste time issuing orders, lead by example and fry him.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Thu 22 Apr 2010.

Desafon

Desafon considers the options.


Pitcarn

The hissing of the paraflamer turned into a startling explosion as the flames licked the tea, which, amusingly enough, was combustible. No one was harmed, however, except for the grass and the plates.

"I am a man of combat," said the sergeant. "And a soldier properly trained. Give us an order, Pit, and we'll obey it to the best of our ability. We trained for several months in the Drachenorden pits, beneath the marketplace. We know how nasty these Mad things can get."

After coming to his conclusion, he indeed follows his chosen path.

Desafon

Desafon waits in his chosen spot, the Blades of Efficiency humming softly, silently, with eagerness.

Pitcarn

(repeat)

The hissing of the paraflamer turned into a startling explosion as the flames licked the tea, which, amusingly enough, was combustible. No one was harmed, however, except for the grass and the plates.

"I am a man of combat," said the sergeant. "And a soldier properly trained. Give us an order, Pit, and we'll obey it to the best of our ability. We trained for several months in the Drachenorden pits, beneath the marketplace. We know how nasty these Mad things can get."

"Good Sergeant. We will accomplish nothing by remaining here, now that the tea has been eliminated."

Looking around the forest for an easy way to get to the beach, as he didn't want to set anything on fire while he wasn't able to get himself and his troops out of it. Being burned to death hurt, he was sure.
Once a clear space or a track had been seen, Pitcarn leads his men along it.

Desafon

Desafon waits in his chosen spot, the Blades of Efficiency humming softly, silently, with eagerness.

Pitcarn

Pitcarn saw two tracks - one leading to the smoke, and one leading further into the woods, away from whatever ahd caused the fire. It wasn't immediate obvious where the beach was, or even if there was a beach nearby; there was only grass, the woods, the sky and the smoke. The track leading to the smoke led slightly downwards, however, so if there was a beach there that'd be the route to take.

Pitcarn leads his men down the track with the smoke in the distance, hoping that it was the right direction to an edge of the island, and hoping that Desafon had been telling the truth. Who knows, thought Pitcarn, perhaps Desafon had been infected?

Desafon

Desafon waits in his chosen spot, the Blades of Efficiency humming softly, silently, with eagerness.


Pitcarn

Pitcarn begins walking through the woods, paraflamers close behind, he marvels at the closeness of the woodlands around him, the abundance of twisted trees or heavy scrub; it would be a great place for Desafon to stage an ambush.

'A great place for any ambush' mused Pitcarn to himself as he walked.

'Spread out a little. Keep within sight of each other, but not so that a single enemy can take down more than one man with one charge. Be on the lookout for anything vaguely suspicious around us, and if you think it's dangerous, shoot first and run from the flames after, got it?'

Pitcarn continued to lead the men down the path, hoping to find one of the villiages, or the coast.

Having come to an agreement, Desafon moves out of hiding and, if Paradox forces him out of here to go to Grumbra he will disappear, but otherwise he moves to sit down five minutes away from Pitcarn. His blades, however, are being sheathed back. For now, he will trust this Pitcarn but only as far as he must, his hands always within range to grab his twin blades.

Desafon was currently upon the Island of Grumbra. Removed from his place of ambush, now quite plain in sight for any who might stumble along the path, his Blades of Efficiency hummed softly, discontentedly within their sheathes. They were hungry for action.

Minutes passed, and Pitcarn soon stumbled upon Desafon sitting in the middle of the road, his para-flamers about him.

"What're we going to do, Pit?" asked the Sargent. "This the Pirate-fellow we've been briefed on?"

There was a shimmering nearby, and another hidden being revealed itself from the brush. It was of a shining silver, perfectly round - a Callisti.

Greetings, Aggressive Associate Pitcarn. Greetings, Affiliate Desafon. I have been sent to check the area, and Desafon, for traces of Madness. You expected my arrival, yes?

Desafon chuckles as he hears the Callisti, "About the only madness I know of is that one boy who taunted me, challenged me and then ran through a portal expecting me to follow him. Needless to say I spent a while confused on that one." He looks to the soldiers around Pitcarn, "Remember, I'm honorable but that doesn't mean that I'm just willing to let my whole island go to be destroyed. I'm fairly certain that there is a portion of the forest, near the tea, that might be... infected or somesuch, but other than that I do not believe there is anything else you'll find. Still, if its your requirement to search, be my guest."

Desafon has no traces of Madness. He is clean. Would you care for me to continue examining the island, Associate Pitcarn?

The Callisti hummed softly.

Pitcarn looked at the Callisti, torn. His desire to do his duty warred with his desire to play with the toys that had been made available to him. Eventually, duty won.

"Please, continue, as long as it does not inconveniance you from your other duties."

Desafon nodded, "I was fairly certain of that when the Tower folks asked me if I was tainted." He looks towards Pitcarn, watching and studying the man. Though there is currently no combat, it is wise to study your opponent. Or possible ally.

The Callisti darted off, promising to return once a proper analysis had been made.

"I am sorry for the doubt, but bureaucracy is one of the necessary evils of the Conclave; information does not always travel quickly.

other than that, Pitcarn awaits the return of the Callisti.

Nodding again, Desafon seems to understand. "Indeed. I believe in Bureaucracy only for the means of making money. Past that, it doesn't hold much interest for me." He also waits on the Callisti.

The Callisti quickly returned.

Associate Pitcarn, there is a seventy-three percent chance that the Island of Gumbra is infected with the residual traces of the Taint of Madness. This will have a warping affect on Perigo in due time if it is not dealt with now. Preferred response would be fire. There is massive magical-statistical correlation between the influence of the Conclave in this event and the significant actions of Desafon.

turning to look at Desafon straight on, Pitcarn follows the movements of his troops out of the corners of his eyes.

"Well, God of Duels, you have heard the Callisti. It has re-enforced my original orders, including that you now leave this island.

"I do not mind where you go, you may remain within you realm if you wish, but know that The Conclave requires you to remove yourself from the island of Grumbra immediately. Correspondence will not be entered into, this is not up for negotiation. This is also for your own safety. Please leave the island immediately."

Desafon looks towards the Callisti, his eyes now beginning to show signs of growing angry though he tries to keep his composure, "Define 'warping effect'." He says, uncertain if he wants to allow the m to continue their effort or try and stop them.

If Pitcarn and/or his people look trigger-happy, he'll be moving his hands towards his blades. "I'd like to know what is meant before I make my decision on just how... excited this situation gets."

Interrupting before the Callisti can speak, Pitcarn pleads with Desafon

"Desafon, please. The Conclave takes any risks to the the Great Tree very seriously, and any contagion, no matter how small, is a risk. I can sense that you are hesitant for the treatment of your island to be carries out, and were it not for the Callisti's previous pronouncement that you were clean of taint, I would suspect you of madness for your resistance.

"The Callisti has pronounced burning as the most preferred way of cleansing your island, from the Conclave's point of view. The Conclave will likely not be satisfied until this occurs. I would suggest pleading clemency to a High Lord in the Conclave herald would be your only course of action that may alter this, but I do not wish to give you false hope: Low Lord Maxilita has already been overruled once in regards to this mission, and I cannot promise that my next superior, High Lord Ruse, will be able to do anything.

"One more thing. I tell you this only because you have been declared clean of taint: The consequences of your actions here may be far beyond what you are willing to pay. The Conclave is willing to overlook scruffles between Gods, so attack me if you will, but if you so much as threaten one of my men, Conclave soldiers all, you will be declared an enemy of the Conclave. Rescind your question, accept the Conclave's judgment. You may be able to petition for compensation on account of damages suffered or the service you have rendered.

"I will say it straight for the last time: Stand Down."

The Callisti hums, silent above the two Gods, just as the soldiers behind the God of Food wait silently, awkwardly, the para-flamers cackling softly.

Finally, it spoke, bluntly but not unkindly.

In this case WARPING as defined by myself implies that the Mad God in which you killed is not truly dead, and might return, and if it does so then simply by holding small holds within this island it might claim territory and thus power.

Affiliate Desafon, you have no one to blame but yourself. In taking up the STAVE OF GUMBRA you destroyed the Mad God's form, but you did not hesitate to think of the price you might be costing this island. This is a Conclave matter.

No doubt the humm of the Blades of Efficiency sign to him as his hands are close enough to almost be considered touching them. He looks at the Callisti, "My fault?!?! I came to the Conclave, petitioned for assistance and I got nothing but a 'sorry, you're not a member of the Conclave, not our concern'. And now, after I've done all I could to kill the Mad God, you come back and tell me 'Ooops, we can't let this go by and so its your fault and we're going to destroy your island'. I don't know which is worse. You or the Mad Gods." He says, grumbling, no doubt feeling the Vicious nature of himself and, perhaps, the island.

"Give me a moment to consider this. I would've said yes if that bedamned Callisti didn't say it was my fault when its the bloody Conclave's fault for rejecting me first-hand. As for petitioning, I did it once and got rejected straight-out so I'm not even considering falling on deaf ears again." He says, this, looking at Pitcarn and the Callisti, then finally the flame-troopers.

"God of Duels: Do not blame the Conclave for this. I am here, now, to grant the assisstance that you requested. The way you have destroyed the Mad God has cost you the island, acceept that and place more faith in the Conclave's actions next time."

Oh, that certainly didn't convince him, "Don't blame them, its my fault? Why, gee, next time I have a Mad God I'll just wait for him to take the WHOLE REALM then and mess myself out of a whole realm. But its not really your problem until its time to clean up now, is it?" He asks before he looks to Pitcarn, "Don't take a step man, or else I'll seriously take you and the others on. I personally don't like the fact that everything is my fault because the Conclave can't admit their own fault for saying 'No' in the first place. This is their solution of cleaning up after someone else did their dirty work. Now they are sending even more dirty work to be done because I'm not about to just sit here and watch my island go up in flames." He still doesn't reach for his weapons, waiting for Pitcarn or one of the others to reach for theirs first before he'll make his move. Even a twitch to their weapons will set him off. "I'm not about to sit here and let the Conclave get the upper hand when I was being all friendly-like to them and now they want to burn my whole island."

PM
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Tue 25 May 2010.

"Desafon, God of Duels, I hope you are fully aware of the consequences of allowing the taint of a mad god to spread. If you are not aware, I suggest you ask at the Tower of Babilu, or petition this Callisti for the information. We are here to remove the taint in a more thourough manner than you are capable of.

"Leave. Now."

"Hello, is anybody there?"

A tall, thin gaunt man, dressed in white-red, extremely fine garb, wanders into the scene. He holds a cigarette in one hand, of a blend somewhere between tobacco and hashish, and at his belt sit a brace of pistols and a heavy saber. His hand is filled with rings of various precious metals and stones, and he smiles broadly as he strides into the volatile situation.

"Desafon of Perigo?" he asked. "I'm afraid you owe the Articulation Current forty-five thousand Conclave Stones. Pay immediately or your life is forfeit. Oh, hello, gentlemen. Am I, uh, interrupting anything?"

Desafon feels a slight twinge within his mind.

Desafon peers between the whole gathering. His eyes narrow deeply, pondering thoughts within thoughts. Oh, just about anybody can feel that he's so very tempted to just go through with his plan. The grin on his face turns savage, almost... vicious. However, hearing the newcomer arrive and remembering that he indeed owes an amount of conclave money, especially that he bets with his war against the Conclave his stones will be worth nothing, Desafon nods. "Fine. Forty-Five thousand Conclave Stones, as we agreed on before." He says, not removing his other hand from behind his back. He looks towards Pitcarn, watching him to see if he moves at all towards Desafon or if any of his troops will be prepared to combat him.

He seeks to prepare the conclave stones with one hand and motions the man closer, "As an honorable man, I swear I have no intention to harm you. Come and get the stones before this situation becomes very unstable. I call a cease-fire of any combat, Pitcarn, until this man is gone. If your Conclave honors its own thought of peace you'll do the same." He says, still holding something in his other hand while he moves to have his conclave stones prepared.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:05, Thu 27 May 2010.

As Desafon prepares the stones, Pitcarn relaxes slightly. There is an opportunity here. Hopefully is will mean no blood needs be spilt.

"Desafon, God of Duels. Once you have finished your exchange, I have been authorized by the Conclave, and specifically High Lord Ruse, to make you a one time, non-negotiable offer."

Once Desafon has made his exchange, Pitcarn continues.

"High Lord Ruse has taken an interest in this situation, he has been contacting me over my private channel and has a highly beneficial offer to make to you.

"High Lord Ruse has also informed me that the Conclave is in a position to destroy you, and has redundant plans in place to ensure your demise, should you continue to hamper us.

"This is Ruse's offer, and I suggest you hear it out:

"on your behalf you will: 1.) Allow the madness of his realm to be purged with no further protest.
2.) Work for Operation HIEROPHANT, and in particular for High Lord Ruse as your direct supervisor.

"In return, you will be granted: 1.) An exemption for your insolence against the Conclave and Conclave Law, in addition to a waiver of any fines or punishments you may or may not have accrued.
2.) An Associateship with the Conclave, and good standing.
3.) A contract with HIEROPHANT for your finest woods business. HIEROPHANT will, in exchange for a share of you profits, be willing to make a financial investment in your business as a part of the wide portfolio of investments that HIEROPHANT are making.

"High Lord Ruse has also offered to put you in contact with his finance manager and you can then work out the details (H.L Ruse did not specify which details) in a way both parties will find favorable, but this would be good for both HIEROPHANT and you.

"As I have said, I have been informed that this deal is non-negotiable, and since I am not offering it, simply informing you of the offer, I have no power to change it anyway.

"This is your last chance Desafon. After this, we have no choice but to take the path our type of god finds so appealing."

Pitcarn fished into the neck of his robes, and pulled out a small object on a chain . The chain dangled from his left hand, the object not specifically in his grasp, while a diamond rifle appeared in his right hand. he points he muzzle at the ground to show that, while he has the weapon, it is somewhat of a last resort.

"Excellent," said the man, smiling all the while, as he took Desafon's stones and clasped his hand firmly with his own. He glanced at Pitcarn and the soldiers. "Forgive me, gentlemen, but this man is now a registered member of the Apotheosis Circle and thus a recipient of our merchant immunity from Conclave intervention. I am Respected Partner Sohdat and I have proper authorization to act in these matters. Gumbra has been determined to be a Stage Two Province and is thus not to be touched in any regard except by either our agents our the owner, Desafon, himself."

He threw Pitcarn a dangerously charismatic smile.

"Associate Pitcarn, yes? If you leave here right at this moment - take your lackeys with you - you'll find three thousand Conclave Stones in your account, plus whatever the Conclave promised you, and you'll receive a direct promotion to Low Lord. If you continue with this silliness, however.." The man shrugged.

Grinning widely at Pitcarn, Desafon seems to be somewhat happy, but fails to comment past that. He places his grenades back up, ensuring that he is showing no further sign of offense, although his hands do not move too far from his swords as to not be prepared to defend himself if he is attacked.

He bows to Sohdat, "Many thanks to your assistance, Respected Partner Sohdat." He then shoots another grin to Pitcarn, though not showing any sign of offense to him past that, if it can even be seen as offensive.

"Lower your weapons, at ease soldiers.

"Respected Official Sohdat, I think you for your concern.

"Desafon, I depart in peace, but I beg of you, do not ignore the danger in your realm. The Callisti do not lie, there is taint present. My role here is finished, but I beseech you to take it up. Perigo may be endangered, not just Grumbra, and I would hate for your impressive reputation as a killer of Mad Gods to be tainted by you becoming one yourself.

"I leave you, in peace."

Pitcarn opens two Portals, one to Bilbligh, for his man, and one to the Hall of the sun, for his soldiers. Pitcarn steps through both of them, following the others.

Sohdat grinned as Pitcarn left the Realm Perigo.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting like that," he said, shaking Desafon's hand. "We've been watching you - ever since you inquired as to joining. Standard procedure. We needed to make sure you were, uh, of the right caliber for our guild." He smiled broadly and honestly. "The thirty thousand went to good use, of course. Most of it was bribes - we bought Pitcarn a promotion, since he could still opt to settle this matter personally - as well as letting you off the hook completely. The rest of it went to the Circle. I'm obliged to inform you right now that we will not allow you to join any other factions, guilds, cults or clubs while you are with us - conflict of interest, you see. Is that acceptable?"

A flock of doves..

As the feathers settled, Maxilita stepped forth onto the isles of Perigo. She immediately sought out Desafon, leaping into the air, flying with the wind on an arcane zephyr.

(We'll hold on until Desafon replies or until, say, June 13th.)

(Sorry, been awfully busy lately)

Desafon nods to Respected Partner Sohdat, "I, of course, understand. I was going to, originally, join a Weapons Practice group in the Valley, but I will not do that after all." He smiles, pondering, "Ah, the concept of such political machinations are interesting, though I must be careful how I tread with that... no doubt things will be much more broiled with politics from now on."

Of course, unless Max is unsenseable, Desafon realizes another God is here, "It would seem that we have, yet again, more company. I wonder what is going on now, a Mad God?"

Sohdat grimaced. "I hope not. They are so bad for business, you see. We shall wait."

Soon Max was upon Desafon and Sohdat.

Desafon nods to Sohdat, though in truth it would seem that his patience mixed with his ravenous fury that broiled over in the last few minutes has churned through his body, enhancing it. No doubt he feels that he is perhaps beyond most reproach in the field of physical combat. He grins widely, "I agree. Already one has disrupted my lands enough. If another arrives so shortly after the last interruption..." He sighs, shaking his head.

Desafon does seem somewhat eager to see just what is going on.

(Max, now is your cue to post in Perigo.)

(didn't my reset eliminate my other paradoxes?)

(Nope.)

I landed gently, allowing the wind magic to dissipate. I thanked the wind under my breath for the assistance.

I strolled causally towards Desafon. "Am I interrupting?" I said. "I'm here about the taint. I am confident I can cleanse the tainted land without any damage. A ritual, of Mind and Water. I cannot afford to purchase the appropriate grimoire, but if you will spring for that I'll perform the ritual free of charge. I believe the ritual would also cleanse the land of any mundane pollution it may have built up."

Desafon was an honorable man, forthright and honest, and one I could respect.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:48, Thu 15 July 2010.

"I... see," said the Partner Sohdat. "And who, might I ask, are you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:22, Mon 19 July 2010.

 I bowed my head respectfully to the gentleman. "I am who I am, though I will someone different in a moment. I suppose I am best known as Max, The Hero Called."

 I drew a golden pocketwatch with a crystal fob from within my robe, checking the time. "Oh dear. I'm sorry to trouble you both. Keep my offer in mind, Desafon, if the taint ever worries you. I do owe you a duel. I'm off."

A thunderbolt flew to the sky, and I was gone.

     Desafon watches as Max appears and makes his offer. With a grunt, Desafon looks a little beady-eyed at him, as Desafon's money has already taken a significant decrease just recently. "When I can afford it, then I will. Otherwise, I'd really prefer people to leave my land alone without my permission." He says this, before turning back to Sohdat, "As my people are possibly caught in another realm, if not," He sighs thinking that his people could be permanently lost, "in a worse situation. However, I am hopeful that a Mad God had not tainted them."

     He then considers, "Perhaps I will be able to find a way to gain further monetary wealth through a very profitable bounty on a terrorist that the Conclave dislikes named 'Sura'. I hear his bounty is pretty high and I am a better swordsman than him, though he is also well in the ways of magic."

"My contacts in the Conclave speak of a planned invasion against Tushmuthut, where it is said the Lord of the Scepter holds his House," said Sohdat. "They have promoted our friend, the Fat One, to Low General of the invading force. I understand that they have expressed some interest in dedicated mercenaries to work in tandem with the invasion force - under the command of the General Lower and Higher, of course, Pitcarn and Ouara.. but nevertheless, they are offering ten thousand Conclave Stones on top of the bounty for a dutiful assassination. In, out. Considering the penalties and laws against tampering with a Conclave war-zone, that might be the best offer you'll receive.."

Stroking his chin, Desafon seems to be interested, "Working in tangent with that Pitcarn guy, hmm?" He asks, curious. "Any chance I get to drop one of these fancy explosives... on accident... near him on my way to kill Sura?" He asks, chuckling, "I'm kidding of course. I wouldn't do anything to someone of the Conclave." He continues to stroke his chin.

"What does the branch in Tush know or are they not in 'tangent' with us?" He asks, before he grins, "Or rather, is there any way to bribe for closer access to Sura?"

"Yes, please don't do anything that could jeopardize our .. alliance with the Empire," said Sohdat. "And bribe? What do you mean? Are you talking about the Conclave, Lord of Pirates.. or the Cult?" He smiled. "If it is neither, know that that the Circle has no official presence in Tushmuthut at this stage. The Cult has not shown any interest in having our presence there, which makes a certain degree of sense, it being a holy city and everything.."

Desafon raises an eyebrow, "I thought you mentioned a presence in a market in Tushmuthut. I might've misheard then." He says, before popping his neck. "Well then, I guess I might show the presence of our Organization." He says, still wearing the Merc outfit he was given before the death of Chalybis.

"Please do," said Sohdat. "Our ties with the Cult are weakening, and each day the Conclave's position strengthens. It can only cement your position within our Circle."

Desafon nods to Associate Sodhat, turning around. "Well then, guess I'll visit the Conclave Member, then." He says, seeking to enter Pitcarn's realm...

"Fare well," said Sohdat.

There was a rush of blades - the steady weakening of an old foe - thirteen thirteen thirteen - the most wondrous wine -

and he was there.

(OOC: *blinks* Do what?)

(OOC: Its just Nat's fancy way of saying that you're somewhere else. Thats what Des has seen as he changes realm. Some of it may be relevant, some of it just random. Allusions and illusions for the most part. 'You are no longer in Perigo' is the translation)

(Basically, yeah. You see a rush of images and sounds in the split second of transportation. Nothing important.)

(Oh. Thought it was like some kind of foretelling or something that'll prove important later on.)

(It could be and it might. Don't worry about it.)