A rocky, barren shore; distantly, shafts of gray light filter through cyclopean boughs of the World-Tree.

A small, winged goddess stands at the shore.

Slowly - but what is 'slowly' in this timeless space? - a boat comes into view, and seated there is the robed figure of the ferryman.

"You have suffered much, and bore your fair burden many times over. It would be my honor to ferry you on - to the peace of the furthest shore, if you will but consent."

The ferryman was quiet.

"Yet. There is disorder. The ultimate price is a fixed cost. For every birth, there must be a death. Yet here you are, thrice-dead, that the universe may flourish."

He reached into his robes, and drew out two shining coins. You knew they were the lives you had lost - the deaths you had refused to share the burden of.

"There is disorder. You were owed two more births, but is not within my power to grant life. I am but a ferryman."

"I am a ferryman, and I have been overpaid."

He was quiet again, for an eternal moment.

"Two coins. One for each way - I can take you to the Far Shore, and return you here again. A bargain I have never offered to another soul."

He looked down again, at the two coins.

"But none other has thought to pay me more than I am owed."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:56, Fri 11 Jan 2019.

Anathema, New Goddess of Reflections, had heard of this place. While she had heard stories of Styx's river-man from her fellow New Gods, she had never been. Indeed, that she had been the only of her peers to have not died even once during the war with the Blight was the only reason why she had a life left to return to after that stunt she had pulled. She had, at the time, thought that all four of her lives would have been necessary for the sacrifice to bear fruit. Now, though, she realized her existence was not over.

But as Anna seated herself on a cold, gray, featureless rock, she had to wonder to herself... was that really true?


Anna studied her lost foot. In a way, it was not the only part of her she had cut off now. Reflecting back on her journey up to this point, she realized that she had defined herself heavily by the war. Her mythcraft, her magic, her artifacts, the very nature of her studies all summed up to one thing. Eliminating the blight had been the entire purpose of her existence; the burden was hers to take on. She paid the price, perhaps not happily, but it was the only logical conclusion to her existence. She had openly, willfully defied the pantheon. She had dug up secrets no being of Taeltresin should know. And as she felt the mists recede, she realized that the only lingering source of the Blight left on the tree... was her.

It was Sun-and-Moon all over again, except this time it was no artifact; it was a goddess, a savior. She had been willing to die to end the threat once and for all, all it'd take was dying once more.

It was the rational decision.

Where was that damned ferryman?

Oh, there he is. Anna reached up to dry her eyes and fluttered to her feet, relying on her silvery butterfly wings to balance on her remaining foot. She listened as Charon laid the state of affairs bare for her.

The laugh was mirthless.

"I strive to be unique," Anna states dryly. "Here I was, all ready to accept my demise, my role concluded upon this tree. And then you come, bringing me that most irresistible of bribes... knowledge. Are you sure you're just a ferryman and not a devil?" She cracked a wry grin.

"Color me intrigued, ferryman. I can't say no to an offer like that. What's the worst that can happen... I doom the tree again? Wouldn't that be ironic? Hahaha~!" Anna flutters her way to the ferryman's boat, crossing her legs and looking up at the godrays descending through the tree's branches. Even in monochrome, such optical displays resonate with her.

How could she ever consider not seeing the colors of her prismatic realm once more? She had so many projects left unfinished!

... and with the Blight as her ally this time, maybe she could take revenge on the Pantheon for what they did to her little brother. She and the others should have amaranthed the lot of them when they had the opportunity.

Hehehe... yes... there is still so much to do!

The Ferryman offer you his hand - rough, and gloved - to help you into the narrow craft.

Pushing off from the shore with a long pole, he stood behind you. Slowly, you drifted out.

The rocky shore was left behind.

"Whatever you do, do not leave the boat until we have reached the shore."

Mists floated over the water.

All was quiet, and the journey was smooth, the river almost glass-like, perfectly reflective.

Beneath the clear water, she could see treasures of all kinds - the earthly wealth of empires, artifacts of inestimable power, tomes of lost knowledge.

This was a place of deep peace. How wonderful it would be to pass on - to leave behind her legacy of salvation.

The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up though. She felt was like she was being watched.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:32, Sun 13 Jan 2019.

Anna's hand was bare, smooth as polished metal, and cool to the touch. She was thankful for the extra stability as she sat. It would be easier if she could simply levitate as Bezaleel did.

Quiet calm descended over them as they shoved off towards the greatest of unknowns. Inside though, Anna was giddy. Being the first to do something was a special event indeed, and she didn't intend to also be the first to screw it up. It was hard, though, when the water she expected to be murky and dark held so many treasures. She watched the shapes pass under them with wide, wondering eyes.

"Wow..." she gaped. "You know, I once considered dying just to come down here and meet you. 'Charon must have seen some wondrous things,' I thought." She's silent a moment. "I could just never find the time. Heh... I imagine I'd have all the time in the tree to experiment and research on the far shore, right?"

Anna rubbed at the back of her neck. She had no hair there, but the tingling anticipation felt much the same. It's just a natural nervous reaction to all the death. It's fine. She overpaid, right? She'll be back, right as the rains of Arthos in no time.

Unless that was just what the ferryman told her to avoid a fight and he never had any intention of letting her leave and she's got her hopes up all for nothing oh overgods.

Relax! Don't second-guess yourself now!

Or do second-guess, but definitely don't leave the boat. That definitely seems like a bad idea. Don't touch the water either. In fact, don't touch anything! Anna sits on her hands and redirects her attention to Charon, casting about mentally for something to break the eerie silence.

"I can't be the strangest thing you've seen," she probes the figure.

Charon was silent, and the journey continued.

You heard - as if from a great distance, the pounding of drums.

The weight of the boat tipped forward - a figure, translucent, at the bow. She was no ghost, however.

"Don't mind the ferryman, and don't let on that you can see me. I'll just read your thoughts, no need to say a word! Say, I want to get out of here. The name's - - - uh - - -"

"I don't know! But hey, help a girl out."

The figure looked away into the mists. "Have you seen my sword? I gave the ferryman a shard of it, when it broke, after I -"

"After I . . ."

"The Tree! Is the Tree okay? I was supposed to save her, but then I had to come down here. The ferryman said I wasn't done yet, that the Tree had plans from me. Are you the Tree? Do you remember my name? I lost it . . ."

The figure shivered. "Why am I so cold? I'm the tree's favorite child! I was promised . . . I thought I could be clever for once, like him. I tried to clever . . . If I just shattered my soul in this timeline, I could be resurrected in another, right? I crushed my soul."

Her eyes fluttered. "I crushed my soul. Crushed . ."

She fell from the boat, sunk into the waters - through her, you could see she was over a sword - a sword missing a single one-inch shard from the blade .  .

Charon signed to you. "Don't talk. Not all reach the Far Shore. Many can't trust me. Especially those that were promised a destiny. All are equal in death. No one is special. Talking agitates the lost ones that still wait to be brought back. The Blight broke many fates."

You passed a stone, carved with a glyph - a down-pointing equilateral triangle, circumscribed within a circle, with a dot in the center. A small candle burned atop the stone.

He pointed to the rock, signed again. "We're halfway."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:13, Mon 14 Jan 2019.

Anna's eyes widen some as the not-ghost addresses her. She opens her mouth to speak but is promptly warned off it.

She really wasn't sure what to make of this event. The lost soul was clearly broken, interacting with it pointless. She couldn't imagine a worse fate than losing her mind in such a way. Death almost seemed a mercy in comparison. Was this what would happen to Anna, if she continued to dabble in the forces Beyond?

When she saw Charon signaling her, Anna gasped softly. "Right, sorry!" she apologizes, and then mentally berates herself for doing the thing she was just told not to do.

Anna sits silently save for her thoughts, the remaining half of the trip hopefully passing in mere awkward silence.

The boat came a stop, beaching at the Far Shore.

"Call for me when you intend to return - from wherever you are, I will call you back."

The beach was just like the old one, but before you was open sky - mist reaching up into clouds, and lights suffused the mist, transforming it into a sky-high wall of roiling light.

[You have exited the River Styx. As no other player will ever visit the Far Shore, please continue posting in the thread for your realm as we proceed.

You may also now post in the Buoy.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:53, Mon 14 Jan 2019.

Bezaleel

Emerging from the hidden tunnel, a boulder blocked your path; shifting it with your divine strength, you saw, albeit distantly, the thin ribbon of the River Styx, where a small green goddess of Antideath was speaking with Charon. You were perhaps a half-mile away; you would be able to find the entrance again when you came looking for it, as there were not many boulders of that size on the shore.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:34, Fri 18 Jan 2019.

Making his way quickly, it wouldn't take him long mixing his strength and agility. Taking leaps from the ground forward.

Before he got there, he tried to listen to what was being said. He could only hope the Goddess hadn't planned on attacking him so soon.

"You've been here for awhile, my lady, and my answer is still the same. I am only the ferryman. Save for Atropos, no entity comes near to having the ability to reconsider your death, even if you are the . . . goddess of anti-death. A knot was tied in your thread. You get three knots, then she cuts it. There is no untying of knots, it's a metaphor! Will you be coming with me, or will you be returning to the living? I've never had such a bothersome spirit, and I had to deal with the God of Ruin kicking my boat and demanding I let him see his son."

Marilla's voice was much harder to make out . . . the crashing of waves seemed to drown out the voices of the dead, including hers.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:10, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Coming closer to the pair Bezaleel spoke out. "Greetings Charon, Marilla."

His eyes gazed to Marilla first, they were cold and somewhat full of blood lust as he remembered her taste, licking his lips softly.

Then, Bezaleel turned to Charon, "I've come baring you yet, more questions Ferryman."

"It has been some time. Tell me, out of curiosity. What is it that makes the River Styx? You ferry the souls across it, so why is it here? Who is it that becomes part of it and why? As well as what happens if you do not ferry any across the river."

"The River Styx is one of the Five Rivers - the Acheron and the Cocytus being a few of the others - and they all spill from the mouth of the Old Man. Why do you ask?"

Charon looked from you to Marilla, then back to you.

"Is there a battle underway? Two gods have come to me, so quickly. You've no coin for me, Shadowgod. I cannot ferry you across, unless one of your kin sees fit to leave a coin with you. Elsewise, you will have to wander here for a century, then your spirit will find itself on the Far Shore without me."

A century, a full century of waiting on this blasted shore. Millennia would pass in the Tree above during that time.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:08, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Bezaleel laughed for a second. "No no, I have a way out from here. I have not died."

Bezaleel put his hands in his pockets curious now, "You said they spill from the mouth of the Old Man right? Who or what is that. Do you not know what these souls are or why they are here aside from that?"

Tapping his chin he asked another question, "Where do the rivers lead and where may I find this Atropos."

"The Old Man is a statue, a monument to all sin. Souls are what's left when life ends; the consciousness that keeps going. I bring them to a place of rest."

"As for Atropos - she's with the other Fates, near the heart of the tree. Why?"

Marilla grinned at the mention of Atropos. Ah, so maybe there was a Death!

Bezaleel nodded. "About that fare for a ride. I want you to bring me to Anathema. After that I want you to bring us back."

Pointing a thumb at Marilla, "This one is going to pay for both my rides there and back."

Charon went still.

"The journey to the far shore is one way, Bezaleel. I do not know where you got the idea that I could be bribed. I am a creature of custom, and lack desire."

"You said you have not died. Then you have come here by powerful magic, the likes Taeltresin has not seen in an age. I caution you, God of Shadows. This is a place of rest for the dead, and a place of great danger for the living."

Bezaleel's eyes squinted for a second at Charon. "A warning? It wasn't a bribe. You take pay to fare across the River Styx. I suggested a pay for you to bring me to visit someone dead, and pay to return me. "

Looking at the River he continued "What happens, to those who touch the Rivers?"

Bezaleel had to caution himself not to be rude to Charon. He was respectful so far.

Waiting for his answer he continued, "It is a danger for the living.. It is a place for the dead. But you know Charon. I'm not just the God of Shadows. I am also the God of Undeath. And sometimes. The dead don't get rest." looking up at Charon, he guaged his reaction.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:38, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

"Those who touch the River are lost - not all dead make it to the Far Shore. Mortals who die owe their Souls to their God - and are reborn anew with their passing. Those who have their God, I understand, sometimes find themselves with you."

Charon studied you.

"What have you pay me that I would value? This one has nothing - it is if she was recently stripped of anything worth taking."

His eyes settled on your diverse artifacts.

"Those could be used to pay the fare. They are of great worth to you; this is a place of loss, to be true. I cannot take you to see the one you mentioned, however."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:22, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

"Then, what happened to the souls who make up the Rivers?"

Waiting for his answer, Bezaleel concluded his questions for the few moments. His hopes to see Anathema gone. The fact that he can only give death and not life is testament that she is loss.

Walking over to Marilla, her spirit, her soul. Bezaleel closed his eyes for a second. "It seems though, that my second condition can not be made. Our deal is off. It pains me so, but you. You are not my friend, nor my Ally, only prey. Do not demand one's audience after leading a host in their realm and killing their children. It has been your undoing."

With a combination of his incorpreality and his gauntlet's artifact ability. Bezaleel grabbed Marilla's soul by stabbing her through the area of where her heart would be with his claws. Biting into her visciously. Consuming her once again. With not else to go on her deaths than this same place. He did so until her lives were up and could no longer be able to return.

If not and her soul was so damaged there was not much left, and/or he couldn't harm her lives, he would toss her in the River Styx.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:42, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

You ambushed Marilla, taking her by surprise and consuming her before she could react.

She disappeared, the reappeared. Without the element of surprise, she was able to lock eyes with Charon and be released back to life before you could rend her again.

Charon regarded your cooly. "You have intruded upon the domain of the dead, slew one who - by your candor earlier - would have paid her lives for your sake. And done this before me."

"I will remember this, God of Shadows. I do not yet know what curse your acrimony will bring you, and what the spilling of blood, on this shore, will bring."

"I bid you to return from whence you came."

Strangely, your teeth itched . . .

One willing, and one betrayed. The beast blood stirs within you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:29, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Bezaleel raised a brow. "Oh don't go... There's no escape."

Turning he looked at Charon calmly "It denies the inevitable. It matters not. She only would pay because I would follow through in a deal with her, she would pay for herself only. To slay you, drain the River Styx, kill death itself so it would be broken from the cycle." picking his teeth with a claw as it felt weird..

"She slaughtered my people. Demanded my alliance. Terms of that alliance unable to be fulfilled broke it. So I killed her before she broke everything. So remember that as well. And that you set her free, to kill the fates. The Goddess of Antideath, one not very easy to kill. What danger you just unleashed is unfortellable."

"I have no hard feelings though. Guess I'll just hunt her down again. Catch you later when I send her here again. You should remember though. That the domain of Undeath is to intrud on that of the dead." turning away he continued to pick his teeth, waving with the other hand. Beginning to take his leave of the river.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:57, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Bezaleel left.

Awhile earlier .  .  .

The bow drifted against the shore. "You have saved me, as well as the tree, young Goddess of Reflections. May your final death be without regrets."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:07, Sat 19 Jan 2019.

Anna disembarks, smiling. She bows to the ferryman, wings shivering for balance.

"Think nothing of it. And, uh... don't take this the wrong way, but I really hope to never seen you again." She giggles, covering her mouth daintily with one hand while waving energetically with the other. "Ta~!"

Time to reincarnate! Anna braced herself. Nothing bad had happened while she was down here in this place most resistant to the Blight, but she strongly suspected that her trip home would not see her undamaged. Deekin's short stint to meet the ferryman had left him changed and he hasn't been through nearly as much.

This was gonna suck.