"Then that's it. Nothing for it but to take the plunge," Auriel replied, mind still elsewhere. "In all things, we serve. This, I suppose, is no different."

Auriel stepped to the rim of the well. Plunging his cupped hands into the well, Auriel drew the shimmering liquid to his lips, and drank.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 13):

Auriel drinks deeply from the soul well, and for a moment looks no different than before. He ponders whether the fountain was really just stagnant water after all, and then the weight of knowledge comes crashing down on him.

[Auriel gains a class: Godling]

The burden of godhood is immediate as Auriel's senses expand such that sounds, sights, smells, and feelings he'd been unable to experience before snap into bright, crystal-clear focus. He blinks his eyes, and notes that he can now perceive the finest of gossamer strands connecting all things to each other, to the air, to the ground, and ultimately to the pool.

To the soul well.

His focus hardens as he turns his attention to its waters, which now resemble amorphous forms. He can feel the vibrancy of life within them, but they seem too impossibly few to represent the sum total of creation.

He digs around for more, and senses a barrier of sorts at the bottom of the well, standing like a sheet of darkened glass. Beyond it lies an entire ocean of souls -- enough to boggle even an immortal mind -- cordoned off from the pool's waters. The ocean is dark and purple, and actively churning. It reeks of the past, and of Oblivion.

It reeks of life.

As he watches the ocean's waters, Auriel gains a sense of the souls it contains. Everyday people, mighty heroes, and common criminals alike. Everyone he has ever known, and failed to know. Everyone he has loved, and everyone he has killed. These occur to him not as a parade of individuals, but as a cascade of awareness. They are all there, somewhere, hovering between the ranks of the lost and the ranks of the found.

Auriel quickly learns that even gods have limits, for there appears to be no way to thwart the membrane separating this realm's soul well from the curious ocean beyond it. Despite his best exploratory efforts, the barrier will neither move nor sunder. He squints at the strands of magic binding the glass together, but is unable to pierce their mysteries beyond the certainty that they were forged from the ancient magics of an older god than he.

Perhaps additional hands would make the task easier. Perhaps the barrier is all that separates this tiny realm from annihilation. It is a strange thing, Auriel reflects, for a god to not know. But that does not make it any less true.

He puts a hand against the glass in frustration, and is startled to feel words forming in his head.

They create a message:



All of the above takes place in the blink of an eye. To the rest of Auriel's companions, and indeed to the villagers gathered around him, the only change to come over Auriel is a sense of calm as he rises and closes his eyes.

Auriel gravely relays the message to his gathered companions.

"This is not a burden that any mortal should take on without careful consideration. But it may be our only chance for a future."

Lyriel shakes her head. This is no gift. This is a curse. But...perhaps through this service I can begin to set things right. To atone for all the mistakes that brought me to this place.

Lyriel drinks from the well.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 16):

As Lyriel drinks, she experiences the same enlightenment that Auriel did.

"Tassada changed the world alone," Finwe says solemnly, watching Lyriel with a smile. "Think of what we can do with two Flamebringers..."

He darts after Lyriel, dips his hands into the waters, and drinks as well.

The rest of the villagers wait quietly to see if Maeve, Boreas, and/or Keef will likewise partake.

In reply to DM (msg # 17):

Keef circles the pool, poking at it with his toe, and watching Auriel and Lyriel carefully.

Maeve shakes her head slowly, backing away from the pool. She looks as though she may be crying.

"This. . .this isn't right.  It's not right that *anyone* should have such power, least of all me.  All I ever wanted in life was to be a warrior, and then maybe one day retire to open my own teahouse. Besides, I was never blessed with the patronage any of you had. Never been favored by any gods or primeval beings of unknowable power. I. . .I don't think I would be well-suited for the task."

She looks around helplessly.

"Do I even have a choice though?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:04, Thu 29 Dec 2016.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 19):

Keef nods, his head bobbing like a cocaine-riddled bird, but he keeps eerily quiet.

Chubbs opens one eye at the pool and gives a shrug, then shakes his head.

In reply to Keef (msg # 20):

Lyriel, Auriel, and Finwe look none the worse for the wear. The villager who had been doing most of the talking merely shrugs at Maeve in response to her question.

"We always have a choice," he murmurs. "Our saviors believed you to be worthy and capable, and we respect their consensus. Indeed, those who saved us are quite revered here. That's what the shrine over there is for."

He smiles sadly.

"I'm afraid the answers you seek may lie within your own heart."

[Private to Auriel: You are free to respond to Maeve if you wish.]

OOC: This is not a railroad moment. If you do not wish to partake, you may decline to do so. Ultimately, 6 must drink from the pool to tear down the barrier between this well and the others...but there are plenty of people here. I'm sure one of them would jump at the chance for godhood, if offered. But would any be more adept at wielding such power than the PARTY's membership? That, I cannot say.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:19, Thu 29 Dec 2016.

Maeve smiles sadly, the tears continuing to fall at a good clip.

"I'm afraid that the only deity I'd become would be a Goddess of War. . . and. . .I think we have all had enough war to last for many lifetimes."

She hugs Sekhmet's neck in an attempt to compose herself, but when the griffon nudges her, the waterworks begin once again.

"With all due respect to my friends, this is not my path.  I don't know what it will be.  Maybe I'll take up farming.  Or beekeeping.  Maybe I'll open that teahouse after all. What I do know is that there are still things to accomplish here. And I know that means that someday, I will grow old, and then die. But. . .isn't that an adventure in itself?  To die. . .would be an awfully big adventure."

Her tears fade gradually to sniffles.

"And depending on what the future brings. . .who knows?  Maybe someday I can tell my grandchildren how I was personal friends with a god and a goddess!"

Maeve pulls a face.

"This doesn't mean I'm going to worship you though.  Your egos don't need more inflation."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:44, Thu 29 Dec 2016.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 22):

The villagers nod, and offer Maeve hugs if she wants them.

Finwe, Auriel, and Lyriel stiffen slightly as they perceive the well's barrier shimmer with dynamic magic. Their immortal minds calculate that 5 would now be sufficient to pierce it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:47, Thu 29 Dec 2016.

In reply to DM (msg # 23):

Chubbs makes a noise, not quite croak, almost as if he were attempting to sigh in resignation.

Keef looks to him, then to the pool.  He narrows his eyes and focuses through the shimmering waters, trying to glean some further meaning or certainty from the swirling mass beneath.

Chubbs closes his beady eyes, but just as soon as you're sure he's fallen asleep, he opens them again and hops toward the pool.

No Keef says simply, raising one finger.  It isn't a command, it isn't angry, and it isn't pleading, it's a simple statement of impossibility.

Chubbs comes to rest and leans forward over the pool, gazing at his own warty visage in the still waters.

Keef crosses his arms and frowns.  You can't.  I can't.  He pokes at the water again with one toe and watches the ripples flow outward until they cause Chubb's reflection to shimmer and distort.

Chubbs sighs again.  And waits patiently.

Keef looks up at the sky, then holds his own hands up to look at them.  I had gloves, he muses.  He peers between his own fingers for a while, then lowers them to frame the world between index and thumb.

Keef frowns and his lip trembles.  For the first time in a long time... he looks terrified.  Not when facing God or dragon did he make this face, not through murder and loss.

He looks at Auriel and Lyriel, then at Maeve.

I can't make this decision, he states.  Neither can Chubbs.  Not the way you all did.  But WE have to.

Still lacking confidence, Keef steps slowly and purposefully around the pool toward his toad.  Chubbs rouses himself long enough to take a single hop toward the young man (any more would betray interest in the proceedings).

When Keef reaches Chubbs, he bends down slowly and picks him up.  Keef then decides this is wrong and crouches down, setting Chubbs in the grass and lying on his belly so as to be face to face.

Goodbye

The pair gaze into one another's eyes for a few seconds, and then there is a spark.  Not a visible arc, nor anything that makes any noise, but a transference of some kind that can be felt.

The wind tosses the grass playfully and a fat toad hops away.  Just an ordinary toad.

Keef stands up slowly and brushes himself off.  He is breathing heavily and seems quite unsure of what emotion to show on his face.

He forces a smile, insincere but not unpleasant and speaks in a completely different tone from ever before.  I don't like it, I doubt I ever will.  But duty comes first.  Besides, it COULD be fun...

With only a little hesitation, Keef steps to the pool and drinks.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:30, Thu 29 Dec 2016.

In reply to Keef (msg # 24):

As the once and future Keef sips from the pool, his eyes are opened in much the same way as the others. He stands to join the rest of the fledgling pantheon, leaving only Boreas among the ranks of the undecided.

Lyriel's body shakes with the initial tremors of her apotheosis.

You speak wisdom, Maeve. And if that is truly your decision, I will not try to dissuade you. For what it's worth, all of your hesitations are precisely what would make you a good Goddess. A pantheon could use one such as you. A deity who recognizes the value of self-sufficiency, understands the need for war and the yearning for peace. Realizes the awesome power of mortals standing on their own two feet.

You would make for a sublime Goddess of Valor, or Strength, or Independence.

Perhaps that's a bit selfish of me, though. I'll admit that the prospect of facing eternity without you ALL here by my side is bleak.

Regardless of how Maeve responds, Lyriel will pull her in for a fierce hug.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 26):

Keef crosses his arms over his chest.

As long as she makes the decision herself, we will abide.

We are truly what we make of ourselves.

Boreas watches the others for the first time with two human eyes.

I don't really want to be a god.  Not like that anyway.  But... the world needs a voice for those beings which can't speak for themselves.

He looks at Auriel as he transforms, even though he looks the same, something is different.

It's been a long journey, brother.  I look forward to butting heads with you for eons to come.

He sees Lyriel drink and watches her ascension.  More accurately, he senses it.

For all our differences, we've both worked toward the preservation of life.  It's time to keep that spark alive together.

His heart breaks a little as Chubbs hops away, just an ordinary toad.

I wonder if anyone else, besides Keef, can tell.  Chubbs probably wouldn't care.

He watches Keef drink, taking on the burden.

You always made things interesting.  This new world is going to need a god of 'Making Things Interesting.'

He looks at Finwe as he drinks from the well.

You are also here.

He smiles at Maeve as she takes on her own burden, one she's carried all along.

Mortality is a burden in itself.  It's so very you to refuse godhood.  But the new world is going to need mortal protectors too.  I can think of no one better.

When the others look to him, seeming to ask whether he will take on the burden as well, there's only one way he can respond.

Boreas nods.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 28):

Then fledgling pantheon's ranks swell to five as both Keef and Boreas enter the fold. The well's waters suffuse them as they did the others, and their eyes are opened to a world of possibilities.

The godlings quickly learn that they have the ability to manipulate their appearance with relative ease, as Finwe demonstrates by replacing his homespun garments with brilliant golden plate adorned with a cape of emerald flames -- not ornamentation, but actual fire which somehow burns without heat.

"Justice is reborn," Finwe declares. "I shall strive to be half the god Tas-"

He pauses, gazing first over the assembled villagers and then into the depths of the soul well.

"By the gods," Finwe whispers, his proud posture sagging almost immediately with the weight of uncertainty. "The tangled web of each life is...remarkable. How could Tassada have possibly sorted the wheat from the chaff when there are so many shades of gray? So many...moral quandaries. Did she not see, as we can, not only the measure of a soul, but also its rich potential? Did she choose to ignore it for the sake of expediency?"

He turns to Lyriel, looking desperate.

"Is this how Justice is served?" Finwe asks. "With base instincts, and with righteous vindication?"

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply from his nose. As he does so, the emerald flames of his cape swirl and expand, covering his golden armor and his head to form a flaming hooded traveling cloak.

"No longer. Tassada was an unworthy champion of Justice, and I am equipped no better than she," he says, pulling back the flaming hood and shaking his hair free. "Mine shall be the domain of cleansing Fire. I shall champion those who have been wronged. I shall bring solace to those who yearn for Vengeance and Retribution."

He sighs slightly, adopting a somehow satisfied-looking frown.

"A grim mantle, perhaps, but an honest one. And...perhaps there is a measure of justice in this penance. In condemning myself to the cause of soothing those whose rage would blind them."

Finwe turns to his peers.

"What roles would you fill, as we approach this brave new world? And what shall we do about the barrier between this world and the remnants of the last?"

In reply to DM (msg # 29):

Magic... notes Keef slowly, the other side of the coin of life.  Binding, swirling, moving, and motivating, but always in the between.

Keef's robes vanish (leaving him for a split second totally naked), to be replaced by simple sturdy plate armor, the metal stained somehow purplish.

The armor covers him neck to toe, fitted perfectly to his long frame.  It has few adornments, but it's color flits slowly between deep purple and black in a swirling pattern.  The black is so dark that one could be forgiven for thinking it not color, but a hole to another dimension.

His hair, however, remains a puffy burst like an old horse brush.

Keef smiles.  I've awakened to the truth: justice is mercurial, so I shall stay from that as well.

I shall guard the secrets of the arcane, and of the doorways between places.  No judgement but what is made by consequence of action.

Auriel's form shifted as well, his wings melding into a pure white open-fronted robe. Under the robe, he was clad in armor of close fitting plate, laquered white and trimmed with gold. The golden hilt of a sword peeked out from under his robe.

"For millennia I was the scion of light and love. In this new world, where we have the potential to be whatever we choose, I believe that I will reforge that destiny."

Auriel smiled at his friends.

"I shall take on the mantle of Hope."

Maeve's heart breaks a little more with each of her comrades that crosses the divide from mortality to godhood, but when Boreas and Keef make their decisions it seems to shatter completely. While Auriel and Lyriel were pretty much a given, she had held out some hope that Boreas and, to a lesser extent Keef, might choose to serve as a mortal defender of this new realm alongside her.

As it is, she can feel herself already being cast out of their thicker-than-blood fellowship.  Despite the knot of people standing about, she has never felt more lonely in her entire life.

Slowly, she withdraws to stand next to Sekhmet and the kindly villager and watches as her friends--former friends?, for surely it's impossible to be "friends" with a god--transform their simple clothing into godly attire and begin discussing high and godly things. Maeve looks down at her humble tunic and smiles sadly.

"It's right that they made this choice," Maeve says quietly to her either her faithful griffon companion or the kindly old man, it's not entirely clear. "Each of them had a patron to prepare them for this moment, whether they knew it or not: Ma'or, Tassada, Ka, the Primal Voice.  But even without that patronage they, ALL of them, had *such* incredible powers already.  Powers beyond anything I could comprehend. Certainly beyond anything I could achieve."

She smiles wanly through her tears.

"I was just the muscle, really."

"No Maeve," Auriel said, moving quickly to his friend's side. "You kept us grounded. You reminded us what we were really fighting for. Not these abstract concepts of justice and freedom. But people. Everyday people. Flesh and blood. You made sure we never forgot what was truly important."

He smiled sadly at Maeve. "You were never 'just' muscle. You were the heart."

Auriel's gaze drifted to the unfamiliar horizon, unexplored and new. "No matter what path you decide to walk, whether you choose a mortal life or join us in divinity, we will always remain your friends. Besides," he flashes her a mischievous grin, "somebody will need to make sure we don't get too big for our britches. You've always been the best at that."

Sekhmet, as if to hammer the point home, regurgitates an impressive wad of undigested hair and bone on Auriel's shining new robes, proving that griffons, much like a certain once and future toad, have very little regard even for deities.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 34):

Keef shakes his head.

There is no right or wrong to this decision, Maeve, only consequence.  Cause and effect.

A light breeze whips around Boreas for a moment.  His appearance doesn't change, but those standing near him notice a faint, fresh, piney scent.  All of you have chosen domains concerned with people - justice, hope, magic.  I will serve those who can't speak for themselves.  I will watch over the beasts, birds, and fish.  I will shape and guide the forces of nature.  The people of the new world will find me in every rock and every tree.

He turns to Maeve, sadness showing in his eyes.  You made the right choice for you, and you'll always have a place in whatever afterlife I host.  Nature will always be kind to you, and the animals will know you for a friend, as I do.

Lyriel closed her eyes, and vivid purple light began to suffuse through her skin until she was just an outline.

When the light faded, she was clad in a magnificent dress of amethyst colored silk. The dress was elegantly cut to flatter her form, belted at the waist with spun silver and adorned with a gauzy outer layer of pearlescent lace that shimmered and shone in the sun. A beautiful amethyst suspended by a silver chain rested on her breast, and her brow was adorned with with a matching silver circlet set with another amethyst. Both gems glowed with an inner light, complimenting her eyes, which were now a deep violet.

Twin capelets of dark purple hung suspended from silver clasps at her shoulders, and while she wore no armor, a longsword rested on her hip.

I used to think I understood justice, she said in response to Finwe, but I realize now how wrong I was. How many mistakes I've made. Justice must be tempered with understanding, compassion, and above all, Wisdom. It is to these ideals that I will dedicate myself.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Mon 02 Jan 2017.