Just then, a thin voice from the inn below. "Thy tithe is due, respected proprietor. Please, cometh. A bit of silver and your slumber is assured safe,"

Moira slid out of the bed, revealing herself to be unclothed. With a sly smile at you, she signaled for quiet, brushing you gently aside as she left. The others followed, Joachim making a sign with his hands to fend off ill fortune with a soft sigh.

Baring herself from the railing of the upper floor, she struck a confident pose. "Oh ho, evildoer! Your menial evil ends hence! Go and fetch your bitch of a goddess, for I am the Goddess of Black Thrace and will no longer suffer the indignity of my people's bondage!"

Her white teeth shifted to wolf-fangs before your eyes, and she leapt from the railing into the room below, out of your sight. There was a whump, a crunch and a splut, and then a head came sailing up - an arc of fresh blood behind it - to bounce again the inn's wall in front of you.

"Change of plans! Umbra, you take the bow and cover us - the moon's out tonight!"

For the first time, she took notice that she was in the buff, blushing just a little.

"Eheh. Joachim, can you toss me my armor, my shield, and my saber? No need to give the forces of evil an eyeful of anything besides an arrow."

Once suited up and ready, you moved out. You, Joachim, and Moira worked in a tight group, going from place to place jumping and swiftly slaying vampires as they were collecting tithes. Fowin kept watch from the sky, and signaled to the man of Lethia if one of the Vampires was catching on - it turned out he was an excellent shot, and his broadheads punched through to the heart with regularity. Moira had phenomenally good hearing and sense of smell, which alerted her to the presence of vampires in the vicinity and greatly aided the stealth of the mission.

After clearing six or seven businesses, the jig was up and the vampires caught on that they were being hunted. Fighting as a team, you retreated to the edge of town, taking down four more vampires on the way.

Moira then called out into the night - "Creatures of Darkness! You face Moira, Goddess of Adventure, and her bold companions of distant lands! Call forth your Dark Mistress or be laid waste!"

There was silence, and then a buzzing -

as a swarm of bats dove down from the sky, crossing over the moon, to coalsce into the form a of a tall, shapely woman with glowing red eyes.

"So! After a year of hiding like a field mouse, you finally see fit to challenge me, hm? You've killed a handful of my men, and you think that enough for me to believe you're divine? This is a godless land, mine for the taking! You'll make a fine example, little 'goddess'."

Gethu returned to her bat form, and dove towards Moira.

Stiffling a laugh at Joachim's resigned ward against ill fortune, Ulfur was unsurprised when the plan fell apart at their first encounter with the minions of Gethu and Moira's cheerful cry of "Change of plans!". Her pale-skinned nakedness and deft handling of the first leech provided a strange echo of the amber-pelted huntress, enough that his own resignation had mellowed and he loped from place to place with the two of them, hammer and axe singing and feeling almost as-if he had a pack around him, a strong woman at his right hand.

Beyond the town, seemingly being pursued when in fact they were the lure, his heart sang: these were the bedrock of being the Mountain, these moments of solid joy. He laughed, but quietly, as Moira declared herself Goddess of Adventure; it provided a welcome heartstone when Gethu made herself known, secure in her triumph; it became like granite when she struck.

Judging the moment, Ulfur waited until she dove as a covey of bats and leapt. Leapt into her path, his form rippling with quicksilver and sharp-spiked gems. Leapt, striking with hammer and axe even as he cried out, "Godless! Stay, and fight me, Stealer-of-Worlds! You have but one opportunity for parley and it is now!"

Your shroud repelled the attack completely, and Gethu reformed on another rooftop, with much consternation.

"Another Divine? So this failed goddess has caught a true deity in her web of deceit. Do you mean to challenge me for my possession?"

She harrumphed. "The impertinence! But a battle between Gods is not a trifle. If we can come to a sensible agreement, that would be more dignified. After all, even were I to slay you, you would only return with greater strength."

She tapped her foot. "A share of my takings should satisfy you. I'll split the silver and souls with you 70/30 in my favor. Given that I do all the legwork and shoulder any risk, I deserve the lion's share."

Moira growled, and it wasn't entirely human either - a very convincing mimicry of a wolf.

"Black Thrace is MINE, you leech! I'll not have you negotiate with my subordinate - he is a loyal and mighty smith, and would never desire to gain wealth by ought by the sweat of his own brow and the skill of his hands!"

She leapt, the earth cratering beneath her feat at the sudden force as leapt directly into the fray. In one hand she carried her saber, in the other the godsteel dagger.

She parried Gethu's claws with the knife, then riposted with a slash from her saber, lightly wounding the Goddess. Smashing the house they were standing on, she backflipped away from Gethu and booked it back towards the group. She dived just as Gethu - her wings that of mosquito - was about to reach her. Gethu sailed past, turning and recovering in the air just in front of the group, separating Moira from her companions.

Vampires were coming out of the woodwork, forming a mob and covering the rooftops. Moira was surrounded.

Moira, Brash Huntress: 5/5
Gethu, G. of Parasites: 9/10

"Fucking hell - she's going to be shredded!" Joachim cursed, giving you a firm push to action with his free hand. "Take Gethu, we'll go to her!"

Umbra had an arrow at the ready, watching Fowin in the sky. At least Moira still had that much coverage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:05, Tue 29 Jan 2019.

"But one chance", muttered Ulfur with a sigh, as the brash manner of one warred with the parasitical nature of the other; he had not expected it to fall any other way, but the offer must be made. Even without the push from Joachim, he hurled himself at the back Gethu had presented when she separated Moira from the rest; it was a tactical error on her part, one he was happy enough to take advantage of even as his trunk-like legs coiled and he sprang at her, hammer and axe arcing over and under with the intent to catch her between them both. His style was brutal, trusting in the protection of his shroud, his blows coming fast and furious and heavy, with no quarter granted

As you thrashed Gethu, Joachim ran to support Moira, who was already beset by vampires - but at least now she had someone on her six.

Her body was hardier than you expected, absorbing your blows like an armored knight. Still, you were a hardy warrior, and you succeeding in wounding her several times over before she dissipated into bats, fleeing from you.

Moira took a spear thrust through the shoulder, but before your eyes she stopped bleeding and the wound started to close. She was no ordinary woman.

Six vampires were already dead around the brace of mortal warriors, but more were coming.

Gethu reformed a hundred feet away, chanting some spell that glowed with maleficent green energy, her breath spilling out as noxious mist.

Moira, Brash Huntress: 4/5, regenerating
Gethu, G. of Parasites: 6/10

"No", stated Ulfur plainly, watching the Goddess of Parasites begin to taint his Realm with her foul breath. Disdaining any subtlety, nor providing her any warning, he simply willed the land to erupt beneath where she stood: flame and sulphur, in a wide column centred on where she stood.

Watching for a moment to ensure she was caught within it, his intent was to slay her followers once her own demise was ensured. And if she survived, then she would face his axe and hammer once more.

The earth quaked, and for a half-mile the earth rose into a hill centered on Gethu before tearing asunder and releasing a massive column of molten stone and flame. Gethu attempted to dodge, but the scale of the eruption still immolated her. The house was obliterated, as were the house nearby, and a quarter of the town was damaged. The intense heat of the lava set the town aflame.

The earth continued to shake violently. Moira and the others were booking it out of town.

Gethu was dead, and a swathe of the vampires had been set alight as well.

How much of the town would remain the next day was up for debate.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:56, Sat 02 Feb 2019.

Ulfur watched the vampire burn.

He watched as his temper roiled and stormed within, clear from the extent of the pyre he had lit.

His people deserved this not, nor servitude to some interloper Goddess. But this he had wrought, and now must salvage what he could. He toiled, using his powers to shape the newly-risen hill into banks and levees, channelling the magma from the parts of the town he could. He tore down, his skills at the forge telling him were a fire-break might be needed and a portion save. He left a trail of devastation and behind that, hope and a future

[Private to GM: Activate his Earthmold power to create the breaks and levees, if needed. Activate his Abundance power to build on the natural formation of Gold, Nickel, Diamonds, Copper, Zinc and Obsidian in volcanic regions. Finally, spend Souls to imbue the minerals found in this Location with a fluorescence in the presence of parasites such as vampires]

Finally, he rested.

At the edge of the devastation, he called whatever Tellurii would come and sworn an oath to remove such taint from their lands, "Gethu shall know no peace in this Realm, not any sworn to her"

You spoke to the land, and the land heard.
The valley will glow in the presence of unnatural parasites. -300 souls.

Moving faster than your body would suggest you were capable, you used your divine power to salvage most of the city before the flames could spread. Luckily, fog had beset the town overnight - which had aided your previous stealth, and also made sure nothing was overly dry and quick to catch, and the buildings were built with broad streets to aid the creation of markets and welcome incoming trade wagons.

The burned area would become known as the the Godsgrave district in future years, as it marked the death of Gethu and became a prominent center for Ulfur's worship.

Your aura blazed as you did your work, announcing louder than anything that Black Thrace had not been forsaken by its old gods. The entire fit populace of the valleytown was out to hear your brief announcement and do what could be done for the survivors of the flames, who would be rehomed until reconstruction could be completed.

Moira and her crew were among those braving the flames to rescue who they could - given that they had the ability to get a bird's eye view and were more resilient than less adventurous mortals.

It would be a long night, but the town would pull through.

Burnished and soot-stained from his work, Ulfur cast his eyes upon the Tellurians gathered to hear his words; he remained silent, letting them disperse back to their homes or those of their neighbours who housed them following the cleansing of the town.

When the work was complete, what could be completed, he called Moira and her travellers to him, "None of Gethu's brood may be permitted a moment's rest; I must travel to the Valley of Banners and see about freeing those Tellurii tithed -" and he stole an apologetic glance at tiny Viese, though he continued regardless "- from their bondage"

The little pilgrim hero grinned broadly. "YES! Finally! But before we do that, er, we should really maybe spend some time getting folks on board with Team Ulfur's Back, and maaaaaybe do some more research? The Pantheon were practically invincible-seeming and I would sure hate to rush in there just to see all of us be slaughtered and have Gethu come back and rule the realm forever,"

She coughed to the side. "Like, the bondage thing is totally the main quest and it's urgent and important, but I also prefer to roundly ignore it while we instead go about a number of lengthy sidequests so we have a chance to ascend to a higher level of prowess,"

Joachim sighed. As did the Viese. As did the man of Lethia.

She perked up. "I have an idea!"

There were groans of dismay.

"How about . . we go visit Bezaleel the Shadowgod, and er, tell him that we took care of that nasty dissident Kral, and also let him know that the Pantheon sucks and that he should totally help us since I'm sure he wants his people back from them too?"

She grinned. "And his realm is kind've a dangerous area so I'm sure we'll able to do some adventuring and find cool relics. And hopefully replace Kral. It just doesn't feel right traveling without a dark, brooding sort, you know?"

"Let me speak to Bezaleel once he and I have finished our current bout", offered the Mountain God nonchalantly, "He is slippery and tenacious, so I suspect our conversation about Kral will be ... interesting ... but I will see if he might provide us a suitably brooding representative at the same time"

Glancing round at the mildly horrified looking men, he looked thoughtful and then continued, "Do you three feel you are ill-equipped for what may follow? Especially if I blunder in to the Valley of Banners and confront these thieves, who claim themselves above me? Would you accept my blessing, a symbol of my belief in you?"

[Private to GM: If they assent, then raise Fowin, Joachim and Umbra as God-Touched or Special Units, depending on the relevant ruleset]

"And you, Moira Redmane?", he asked, more softly, as his eyes meet hers, "Are you prepared for what is to come?"

In his hands he held the Great Wolf-Helm, clasping it between them. Attempting to suffuse it with his power, he offered it to her, "You will need to be more than you are now, strong and bold and fearless as that is"

[Private to GM: Attempt to turn it into an Artefact and Gift it to her, making her a Keeper]
This message was last edited by the player at 12:33, Fri 15 Feb 2019.

There was a low song that the mountains sang, rumblings from their roots that made the streams flow, the winds blow, and the sun show. You spoke a few words of this song, shaking the earth as you did, blessing each of the three with the sturdiness of the dirt beneath their feet, that their road would stand up to the coming rains.

With little conscious action other than investing divine power within the helm and granting it to the safekeeping of Moira - whom you named Redmane - you called into the helm something instinctual within you, something that was of the primal woodlands that lived in your shared dreams.

Moira Redmane took the helm, and not totally understanding why you'd grant her such an oversized thing, she placed it heedlessly over her head.

The earth broke beneath her, and magma swelled up to consume her, the heat and light and ash hiding her from view.

When the obscuring haze dissipated, Moira's human self was gone, replaced with a great wolf of flame and stone. Her flames faded at her will, leaving an obsidian body beneath - suitable for use as a divine mount, perhaps?

Moira Redmane, Demigod of Ferocity

She returned to her ordinary form, removing the artifact and tucking it in her arm. She grinned. "So this is what it's like to really have some power! God, I love when I get a power boost just before things are going to get hairy. Or furry, I guess?"

-150 Souls
-1 Essence

+3 God-Touched Adventurers
+1 Moira Redmane, Demigod of Ferocity

Satisfied, Ulfur nodded, "Furry, indeed. With such power comes a tempering though, a need for restraint and consideration", and he looked a little abashed, "You cannot afford to accidentally immolate people, for example"

"Now", he rumbled, "What prevents us to travelling to the Valley of Banners, besides an herald? Or do you still believe we need to invade Bezaleel's realm?"

She folded her hands together, the index fingers pointing out and aligned together. She made a shushing motion to her own mouth with her intertwined fingers, her eyes looking away thoughtfully. "Well. I wouldn't phrase it as invading. It's . . . extending a diplomatic envoy. I can travel there myself as your herald, ask him if he's up for talking. That way you can keep working on things here, maybe smith us some cool things?" she said, ending with a hopeful tone and using her puppy eyes.

"Sending one non-god as a herald would be considerably less likely to interpreted as an invasion," Joachim added. "Although my goddess, Komatas, would also be likely to lend aid."

"Leave Bezaleel to me", considered Ulfur, even as his fight with the Shadow God draw to a close in another Paradox, "Go as my herald to Komatas. Ask her if I may visit her Realm, to request an introduction to those who rule the Valley of Banners"

He turned to Joachim, "Tell me of your Goddess and why she might lend her aid. Tell me why you rebelled against her and whether she will treat your presence here as an offence?"

"I am not of her chosen people," Joachim said. "I was an enemy commander, from the east. I was captured in battle, interrogated, and reeducated. I took a wife among Komatas' people. When my son was born, I was told that he would be taken and raised apart from me in another city, by the elderly and infirm . . . I regained my spirit, reclaimed my son who was stolen from me, but slew my wife when she was ordered, along with her comrades, to halt my escape. Without Moira, I would not been able to escape to this Realm."

"Now my son lives free, in Black Thrace, in a village south of here."

He answered you question directly. "She will not welcome me back, but neither will she pursue me or hate me. I am a proven warrior, have retained my honor, and that is enough to ensure her respect. She will not object to my presence here."

Moira grinned. "It will be good to see Komatas again! She's hot. I'll be back by sundown, unless the time zone difference is wack. In which case it might be a month or two before I return, or minutes. That's interrealm travel!"

She took out a small scarf, emblazoned with a sword crossed behind a mountain - the sigil of Komatas. She went still, focused, then started walking away. It became hard to breath - the air thinning - your eyes blurred - and then you blinked, she was gone, and everything was normal.

Nodding at the man's tale, Ulfur turned back towards the town and began to walk, asking more questions as the others followed him back, "What of her nature? Is she a God of War? Of Champions? Of Battle? Will she respond to boldness, or respect?"

His gestures encompassed the others, "What of the Gods of your homes? What pushed each of your from them, even as Moira Redmane pulled you?"

When they reached the borders of the town once more, he knew he must seek out a forge. He had a promise to keep and a gift in mind

"She is a goddess of . . . " Joachim searched for words,

"Of just war. War as it should be fought; orderly. Just cause, honorable conduct, defined battlefieds, clear victory and loss, volunteer armies, the lot. She detests subterfuge, insubordination, cowardice, and exalts martial glory, tactical genius, and to a certain degree, the aesthetic of war . . . uniforms, awards of merit, strong posture, parades, speeches, the drama of it. In legends, she is said to always be on the side of the underdog."

The viese shrugged at your question. "Anathema? She flew the coop. I've got nothing against her, but she's less my goddess and more like a mad scientist on the loose that I can only admire the genius of."

"My goddess is the goddess of the lost. I guess she's still my goddess, even now. She was gone for a long time, recently came back, and . . . I didn't know how to deal how she had changed. I still love her. We all do. She's just . . . she was hurt in the war against the Blight, somehow. When she recovers, if she recovers . . . I will return to Lethia."

One of the smiths - a woman, by the name of Myrine, who was busy crafting the plentiful iron fittings needed for the repair effort, but come nightfall she was happy to give her forge over to your use. "I inherited it from my father," she said. "If only he'd lived long enough to see your come back down from the mountain, Ulfur."

"Her support against the seemingly unjust tithes of the Pantheon may well be something I seek, then", observed Ulfur solemnly, "Even now I go to confront them with Bezaleel as my herald... perhaps advocate. We will find out whether such support is needed, for I fear I will indeed be the underdog if they send someone such as Gethu as a tax collector"

He turned his attention to the others, "You may do well to listen to her tale, this Anathema. She is returned and, by all accounts, her actions may have saved your Realm, perhaps all the Realms. Your caricature of her is not inaccurate, though"

"Perhaps you are more truly Lost now, wandering the Realms. You are welcome to stay - each of you - so long as you would. To make homes here, to bring your sons and daughters..."

He smiled and said no more until they found the smith. He watched her work, stoking the forge to aid the effort she made for the repairs. Became her forge-hand for a time, revelling in the simple tasks. Whilst he worked, he spoke. His words though were as much for the others

"Sometimes there must be a stillness in the mountains, the breath between the seasons. I slumbered, took an apprentice, dreamed...", and he considered whether to tell them of the wolf-thane, who was him and who he was in turn. Decided to keep his own counsel, for now, " It was an important time, for what is to come, but I was too long away. I will rectify that, though I must return to Forgerun from time to time... Tonight, however, I shall make nails and two rings"

And so he did, God-steel all. Two rings, one of blackened steel and one of red gold. Two rings, and then a nail for each household in the town, a promise to strengthen them and to be present.

You were exacting in your work. Nail or sword, horseshoe or hauberk, there was no such thing as poor work. The nature of godsteel, you felt, was - something -

As you were sharpening a nail, a feeling flowed through you, an awareness of a nail beneath the nail. There was a perfect world just behind this one, of ideal blades, endless fractals, golden ratios. One you - you could pull forward. There was the dream, surely, and this was reality - but even reality could be more or less real you felt. A god wasn't just tougher - they were more 'true' than mortals. Self-contained.

You fully understood the secret of Godsteel; eversharp, unrusting, as good as silver against corrupt beings; godsteel was alchemical; a drawing fourth of Steel from steel and Blade from blade.

It was the metal of a child that knew nothing of iron, steel, or silver. To a child, a metal thing was invincible, unbreakable. A knife was danger. A sword of godsteel was an elementally pure thing, a thing of magic and belief.

Level 0 Hagiothurgy acquired.

The nails and rings were crafted to your specifications.

Wrapping the rings each in a soft cloth, Ulfur placed them in a pouch for safe-keeping. He was pleased with how they had turned out, fit for those who might choose to wear them, but he would need his Herald to see that they were delivered to their intended recipients, until and unless he understood a little more how she travelled between the Realms.

[Private to GM: Unless there is an easier way to gift them to Bezaleel and his daughter-wife?]

With the nails, he began a peregrination of the settlement. Each house he visited, each dwelling. And to each he gifted a nail, should those within wish to receive it. With each nail, a blessing: a contribution to the mending of the house and those within, a place to hang a welcome or a sign or a bell, each according to the householder's desire. Like all such things, his nails needed to be used, not purposeless, and he hoped his people would draw that same need.

Completing his pilgrimage around the town he returned to the smithy, keeping the last nail for Myrine. Asking her where it might be best placed, he laid a further blessing on her and her forge.

[Private to GM: Aiming to make the smith and the forge God-touched, or equivalent]

Finally, he turned to Joachim, "Come now, let us turn our feet to the village where you have made your home. It is past time I visited the valleys and high passes of Black Thrace once more"

Brief Geography thing:

With Forgerun as the center, Albor Valley is to the west, where the town is up against the seaboard.

The mountains behind Forgerun run paralllel to the seaboard for quite a ways, and there's about 75 miles between the sea and the mountains at the closest point, until the mountains trail off to the south and eventually stop at huge plain formed by deposits of sand and soil from further up the seaboard. It's all hilly terrain between the two, except for the fertile river delta where Albor Town grows its crops.

The Magma Fields are to the East, back past Forgerun, and to the North is apparently a tomb that these brash adventurers robbed once.

Your pilgrimage complete, Moira was there to witness you bless the smithy.

God-Touched Smithy: Smiths who work here will gradually come to learn Hagiourgy. -300 Souls.

God-Touched Smith: Myrie's rate of learning new skills has been enchanced and her HP pool doubled. She gained Hagiomancy at level 0. Myrie: 2/2 HP. -50 Souls.

"Good. Now maybe I'll get something to match my sweet dagger and weird helm. Sucks how wearing the best stuff you can find can screw up your aesthetic, huh?" Moira said.

"You're back, Fearless Leader," Joachim said. "Ulfur wants to visit my home."

"Oh, the village with the wine fields down south? Sweet!" Moira said. "I hope your wife still has some of the elderberry cordial. I only got a sample last year."

Moira took the rings. "Oh, gifts. To the Shadowgod and his . . .  ugh. Gotcha. Might take a bit longer this time . . . make sure to save some cordial for me, okay?" she said, and then she was gone again.

As you said, you turned your feet to the south, and began the trek down to the winery village that Joachim's new family called home. It would be a two-day trek.

"Beloved", offered Ulfur, a clarification though it may be interpreted differently. He was content with his gift of nails and wanting the same receipt for the two rings, "She is his Beloved"

Shaking his head as his Herald vanished, he turned his feet to the south, "Come, Joachim. You spoke of wines"

The travel was easy; though the road was old an in need of repair, there was enough trade traffic along the route that the road had been well-cobbled at some point the past; perhaps a remnant of a prior age.

A day's travel, and then it was full night, and perilous to continue without the protection of the daylight against unseen threats. The troupe made camp quickly, and a fire was made beside a boulder as a blind.

"What do we have have for food?" said Umbra.

The Viese was flitting about between the packs and the pot. "Uh, dried fruit . .  dried fish . .  stale biscuits?"

"If Moira was here, she'd have hunted something up on the way to put in a pot. Mostly to avoid having to help set up camp." Joachim said, a slightly saddened tone in his voice.

A cup of bone broth, two hard biscuits, and a bit of dried fish made for a perfectly acceptable traveler's meal, once the biscuit was crumbled into the broth. Especially with a dried date for dessert!

You had first watch . . .
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:43, Mon 22 Apr 2019.