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?"