Desolace is an unending desert that never see's nighttime - except for the occasional eclipse. There is not much to describe about Desolace, nothing is distinguishable apart from some ruins and Sura Al'Amuns Pyramid Temple - Akhenaten, The Forsaken Triad where all his secrets are kept.

The Azif are nothing but tattered remains scattered throughout the sands of Desolace. Broken, frail and appear to stay that way. This, however is a trick laid out by a clever Sura Al'Amun. These scattered bones will form into skeletal warriors and mummies that defend against intruders. These warriors have fought countless foes for thousands upon thousands of years and will ever continue to do such.

Silence... interrupted. What dare stop the eternal sleep of Sura Al'Amun? Great General to Osiris-Ra himself.

Things felt different however... his power diminished... Osiris-Ra's presence is undetectable... What an anomaly this was. His tomb seemed quieter than usual... If a crypt could get any silent. As he embraced his surroundings he headed outside and is greeted by the harsh heat of the desert - he finds this soothing.

He calls out to the insects of his realm to come to him... He must know whats what.

They came.

The beetles that rolled the sun. The creatures whose tail killed. The spitting flies. Cold worms.

They came, creatures of the desert. The came, and could speak.

He spoke to them in their tongue. "It seems things are occuring out of my control... I will ask of you, fellow sand dwellers, that you spread out and gather all the information about Desolace. It has been an unknown amount of time since i was last awakened... I must know whats changed. Return to me after the realm is explored."

Konung appears in The Barren Desolace. The arid wasteland of dust and ever scorched earth was very unwelcoming to him. If Konung would have to befriend as many as his could, to expand all horizons and avenues of his operation. Perhaps the god of this land could assist him in the matter.

Konung did not feel safe here, not alone. He reached for his orb.

"Kordar.. I need you here, come to the realm of The Barren Desolace." he communed.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:44, Tue 13 Oct 2009.

The insects scatter, to explore the Realm.. and Sura senses an alien presence - another God - in Desolace.


--

The sun was hot. Konung was not used to such desolate wastes.. he was drying up, dehydrating, a kind of heat poison.. he felt light-headed, sick.. and then he was shot in the foot.

Shot? No.. no..

Bitten. Stung. The scorpion slithered off under the sand before Konung could react. He felt the poison rush through his foot.. weaker..

"Lord," rasped Kordar. "I do not.. like this place.."

He had arrived.

"Guagh!" Konung roared.

"If this realms god will not take to us with respect, then we will tear it APART!" he spat, ink flying everywhere.

"Show yourself, god of the Desolace!" Konung yelled, fury wright within his voice.

He stepped forward and slammed his foot down on the scorpion.

Sura Al'Amun seemed to appear from the sand itself. He was a tall broad Egyptian man - or at least that's what it looked like.

He looked to this being with much curiosity. "Who are you?", he says, almost like a whisper.

It was hot in Desolace. The sun beat down on Konung, and it was difficult to keep a clear image of the blurred, dark figure in front of him.. and, to top it all off, the scorpion had disappeared.

Sura saw the intruder.. the rotting, tentacled face of an octopus.. pale black skin.. sweating..

"Lord of Desolace, my name is Konung of the realm Jormungandr, and I'm here to propose to you an alliance, of sorts" Konung panted.

The hot sun glaring down upon him wore him out completely, but he was determined to stay, to make ends meet with this god.

"Oh..." he said, almost like he was sighing. "And what would i need an... ally for?".

"Don't sound dissapointed, martyr of sand. I wish to run a trade route through your land. I would excavate the realm in search of jewels and artifacts. You, of course, would take a cut of the profit."

"So, what say you?" panted Konung.

Sura's eyes narrowed. "You would seek to defile my realm?"

"Do .. not," rasped Kordar, almost offensively, ".. underestimate.. the value of.. my Lord.."

It was so hot..

Sura Al'Amun shot a harsh look at the other being. However, upon looking at this thing, he got an unusual feeling... Something about it wasn't right.

He looked back to Konung. "Bring me corpses... intact ones... then we'll see from there."

"Kordar" ushered Konung.

"Let it go meh brother.."

Konung knew that with conditions like this, Kordar would already be on edge, the last thing he needed was for his great friend to snap..

"Corpses, eh? I'll see it done" panted Konung.

and with that, Konung left, beckoning for Kordar to follow. They would head back to Jormungandr, out of the ungodly sun.

After his visitor left, Sura Al"Amun kneels down and attempts to commune with his loved Desert.

An hour passed.. the sun beat down.. scorpions gathered, left..

Sura knelt for a long while, but finally there was a response. Slowly..

The desert was aware of Sura at last.

Sura was relieved - his realm still lived. "My dear Desolace... let me hear your voice... Its been too long. Tell me what you have been through... Tell me whats happened..."

There was no response. Only the embrace. Desolace still lived, but it was weak, and Desolace would have to commit ritual if he wished to stoke its unseen fires..

Sura Al'Amun closed his eyes and placed both his hands in the sand. He elevated the sand he was standing on, giving him 5 more feet of height.

He then controlled then sand mentally, moving it in weird ways. Once the sand settled, a birds eye view would show a large pentagram in the sand, like you would a crop circle. He stood in the middle.

He took a deep breath and chanted each vowel. Then, he raised his finger and drew in the air another pentagram while chanting the vowels and with each stroke, the next vowel was said. Sura Al'Amun did this four times - North, South, East, West.

Again he chants each vowel.

Finally, the sand he was standing on slowly returned to its natural state.

Once again, Sura Al'Amun kneels in the sand. He meditates for a while - hoping his land will talk to him.

Unfortunately, Earthborn magic wouldn't help him here.. that ritual, though. Had he seen Earth before? Barely plausible.. but possible..

The ground was hesitant, aloof, a little shy..

After meditating, he thought back to the old ways and attempts to recall a suitable ritual.

Blood shall spill upon the land, to awaken its thirst. An oath shall be given, to open its heart. Gold shall be scattered, and incense burnt, to expand its mind. An enemy shall be buried alive, to stir its hunger. Finally, something fresh should be planted, to give a taste of the future.. and of the past.

These things done and the land will speak freely, conjurer.

He understood what must be done. However, it couldn't be done immediately, for he did not have the supplies - most of all any enemies yet...

While the insects were exploring, Sura, Al'Amun thought it best if he familiarized himself with his temple, and thus headed off too it.

Sura soon reaches the pyramid, a great monument made of white sandstone, its single entrance adorned with gold and ivory. As the Lord of the Desert got closer, the number of desert insects about the place diminished, and were replaced with the thousand-year corpses of hundreds of ceremonial warriors, their bleached bones grinning towards nothing at all, resting as they would for eternity. They were left mostly untouched, their battle dress plated with yellow gold and painted bone, and the silver of their blades were blinding in the sun.

His men still remain - Sura was pleased. These once eager mortals have been forced into servitude and Sura will hold them to it.

He takes comfort in seeing his great pyramid - Akhenaten. He approached and entered his sanctuary.

The halls of Akhenaten were quiet and cool, a shaded recluse from the blistering sun. The pyramid arranged itself logically for its Lord, knowing that it was he who was it's master, and Sura was not lost; Sura was not crushed to death; Sura was not trapped within an airless room; Sura was not whipped or poisoned or stabbed.

The rooms he passed were filled with all manner of gold objects, priceless artifacts..

The silence was soothing. He began wandering the halls, checking if it was how he remembered.

Akhenaten was silent, exactly as he remembered. The very nature of the pyramid, despite that fact that it was filled with gold and treasure, kept it fairly desolate as far as visitors went. The walls were still shifting horrors.. the traps, centuries - millennia, perhaps - were still in place, and the Room was still there, in its sacred place..

Sura stopped.

The Room?

He recognized it - but couldn't remember exactly what was within. What..?

The only hint that there was something there was a tiny gold marking - an eye inside a sun - on the top of the hidden door. The door was made of stone - for whatever reason, designed not to be opened. The hidden passage, the Room, was within..

Sura Al'Amun examined the wall carefully. He particularly examined the symbol. He ran his hand across the wall and eventually onto the eye.

It was the sign of Osiris-Ra. He remembered that much.. dread filled him upon sighting it, filled with a strange joy. It was a powerful thing, marked by the Dreaded Lord himself..

Sura felt a familiar embrace. He felt secure... empowered. He pushed on the eye forcefully, absorbing all the feelings and memories he could. He had no idea how to open the door.

Sura knew, suddenly, that - in the manner of Osiris-Ra - the door had to be smashed, not opened. It would lead him, perhaps, to the Scepter..

He reformed himself here... out of breath. Much anger rose within him. He formed the sand in the temple into a solid hammer shape and slammed it against the wall.

The sand scattered as soon as it had formed, smashing against the wall with much force. The wall seem to groan in protest, betraying its hollow center and the room that lay within, but otherwise the wall did not change. The stone was to strong. If Sura wanted access, he would have to be as violent as the desert the storm.

And so he did. He created a tonne of sand in seconds, formed it, solidified it and smashed it against the wall.

The wall crumbled, a little, as if it was never there..

Welcome, General.. whispered the walls..

The remains of the door was sand.

Inside the room, the floor was bare, and the only thing that Sura could see was a sort of clean white-stone alter in the center, some sacred piece of parchment atop it.. a map? Sura knew it to be a map. He had drawn it, he knew.. so long ago. At the behest of his master. But a map leading where?

To the scepter?

Sura sent the sand to fetch the map and carefully drew it to him.

The map was ancient - perhaps old enough to crumble at the touch of one who had not, personally, created it. Sura saw it, and read that it seemed to point towards two locations: one to the immediate south, with the scrawled letters begin here written in hasty ink below a more formal The Oasis of the Blackened. The sign above the 'oasis' was a hieroglyphic of Osiris-Ra - it confirmed this, meaning, literally, 'water-hole' or 'oasis'. He should start at the Oasis of the Blackened, it seemed, and then travel to the east, where it was written..

The Tomb of Thunder
and
The Scepter

He carefully stored the map away on his person and left his temple. He looked around the area. He began to travel to this oasis. He also wondered if his insects have made progress.

The insects would not be long, Sura knew. They would have explored at least three-fifths of Desolace.


The Oasis of the Blackened had earned its name. As Sura got deeper south, the sands shifted from a bright golden white to brown, and then silty black. If possible, it got even hotter. The palms, however, in the distance - where, Sura assumed, he would find whatever he needed to find - were strong and healthy. There was a sparkling, as if announcing the presence of water..

Water? In Desolace...? Remarkable to see it. He thought it all gone - obviously not. He Noticed the sands colour and associated it with this Osiris-Ra, who seems to be a greater part of Sura's past than he thought.

The black sands hid small green plants, living off the moisture of the oasis.. it was paradise in a broken land. The water was a dark blue, and Sura saw it to be pure. Fish swam in the center. Palm trees waved overhead, giving shade. Locusts chirped.

This place was.. beautiful.

He didn't mind this new life in Desolace... as much he was at home in the heat. Water still is a natural part of the desert.

Once here Sura consults his map again, getting his bearing.

He also thinks deep and hard - searching his knowledge of mind magic. He seeks a way to restore his lost memories.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:26, Mon 19 Oct 2009.

Sura knows enough to understand that regaining his memories would be a long and intensive process. If he wants to begin, he'd need a long sword made of silver, a large pool of water, and a day of meditation, rest, and contemplation. The things gained, he needs to look into the water and command his mind to give him back what is his: his memories..

Sura consults the map - he in the south, the Oasis of the Blackened.

The Oasis seems peaceful.. it is not immediately obvious what he is meant to accomplish here, but he remembers something about it, something nagging. It was certainly familiar.

A scorpion crawls out of the black sand.

Lord, it rasps in the language known only to the little creatures of the desert.

He ponders whether this oasis is large enough for the memory ritual. He looks to the scorpion, "What is it?" he asks.

The oasis is more than large enough, and as Sura feels he already has some esoteric connection to the place (in addition, of course, to it being part of Desolace) it would be perfect. The laws of sympathy support the place.

Forgive the interruption, continued the scorpion. I am known as Lkjab, King of the Scorpions, and I bear important news. My kind have finished their exploration of Desolace.

He thought more on his direction from here.

"Report your findings, Lkjab, King of the Scorpions."

The scorpion, Lkjab, scuttled up to Sura's boot, and spoke clearly and efficiently. It was refreshingly cool in the Oasis.

To the south is this place, my Lord, the Dark Oasis.. its waters are sharp and deep. It was I and my subjects who found this place, and it is perhaps the safest, most tranquil area in the lands. Even the carrion gave us no trouble. With your permission, my Lord, I would like to start a colony of scorpion folk here.

To the north is .. the desert, filled with broken metals.. like those found only in the deepest earths. It is a wasteland, my Lord, the pure white sands tarnished with black blood and strange parts.. it is as if a giant had fallen. The wormed people were fearful, my Lord. Some of the metal still moves.

To the east, the sand flies have found something interesting. Barren desert of the finest form until you reach the hills to the further corners of the land.. within one of the hills is a cave, Lord,  made by mortal hands.. and any one of the fly folk who tried to enter were killed through lightning, as if a cloudless storm had been conjured. It was terrifying for them. Eetshet, the King of All Flies, is miserable.. he's lost easily half of his men.

Finally, to the west the beetle lords report an open plain.. there is nothing of interest there. The worm people, however, believe the place to be sacred, and a vicious war has begun between beetle and worm because of it. The worms believe that their gods inhabit the lowest soils of the land, ready to rise when the worms need it the most, and by allowing the beetles to tread upon the land.. they may have angered their deities. Primitive superstition, Lord, but perhaps relevant nevertheless..

"I am pleased. You may colonize there if you wish... I thank you for your service."

Sura headed off to the East towards the cave.

Thank you, my Lord..

The walk to the east was a hot and long one, but eventually Sura reached the artificial cave dug into the side of a scrubby hill. Sura noticed similar hieroglyphics laid in silver upon the highest rock above the cave's mouth. Broken eye, screaming sun, mark of a thousand daggers..

Here lies death for those who have not been proven.

The message was clear.

Sura felt an electric tingle run through his body as he stepped close to the entrance.

Not proven? He thought for a moment. Osiris-Ra, it seems, has set this up. But have I been proven? Sura searched deep within himself for a gut feeling that would hopefully tell him the answer.

Both his gut feeling and common sense - he still had something to accomplish at the Oasis of the Blackened - told him that no, he'd be blasted to tiny pieces if he attempted to wander into the cave now.

He turned around and headed back to his temple - hopefully to find a silver long sword amongst his treasures.

There were easily a dozen silver swords for his convenience within the pyramid. He was a very wealthy individual, it seemed, though Sura should be reminded that wealth doesn't always buy happiness. Please, keep that in mind, Lord of the Rod of a Thousand Screaming Curses.

((Lol))

Sura takes a sword and heads back to the Oasis where he will unlock his memories.

Much has happened since Sura had left.

The scorpions had moved in, digging their burrows, building a vast underground kingdom beneath the Oasis..

The sand was black and cool underneath his feet.

He sits down and begins to meditate on what needs to be done to regain his memories.

It was an imperfect ritual, but it would gain solid results - of one kind or another. If Sura Al'Amun wanted to unlock his memories, he would need to spend a day resting and bathing within a pool of clear water, such as the oasis, and meditating on his identity. He would then need to take the sword and swear his name upon it. Then he is to travel to each point his Realm - to begin with - that seem to have memories associated with them, and declare for them to return what is rightfully his: the memories and knowledge of his past. This same approach, after the sword is consecrated, can be applied to items or individuals. Sura will be knocked down by visions and the rushing current of the past, however, so he best do it while alone..

And so he spends the day bathing and resting in the oasis while meditating on his identity.

It was done.. Sura rose at midnight feeling refreshed and eager.

He held the sword up and spoke clearly, "I, Sura Al'Amun, God of the Desert, declare my intent to restore my lost memories, hidden deep within my mind."

The Oasis of the Blackened shimmered, collapsed upon itself, came back, was distorted as Sura met his vision..



It was cool when the hooded figure came to see him.

Sura, upon his return from the Urth, had been dabbling with the principles of Western Alchemy, an idea popular during the renaissance which had hit Europe during Sura's visit. The Ubinas Door was shattered, and Sura thirsted for the world which had shown him such miracles as gunpowder, the printing press, true architecture..

He was desperate to restore it. He knew the Europeans had the answer. They'd built the door themselves, after all, and it was their Highest Immortal who had deemed Sura worthy of worship. For a single precious year Sura had ruled the Esoteric Order of Iunpu, had a hundred score powerful magicians willing to do his bidding, had unleashed the strangest fires upon London..

But it was gone. The gate was broken, taken by worms in the Plains that Stirred. He had tried digging for it, but to no success. The scraps had been devoured by creatures of soil.

The hooded figure was ignored by the ten thousand ceremonial warriors that lined the black sands of the Oasis of Akhenatan, the great desert paradise which encompassed the entire Realm. He'd found Sura in the pyramid, and watched him work at the furnace for an hour before Sura even realized he was there.

Sura saw something of himself in the figure.

"Hello, my friend," spoke the black figure. "I see you are working on something. Might I inquire as to what it is?"

"Alchemy," said Sura. "From a world long distant. Dead, for all I know. You wouldn't understand."

"Perhaps I would," replied the figure. "Have you heard of the World-Tree, Yggdrasil, and it's splendor?"

"Only in the rantings of madmen," said Sura, turning back to the furnace. "Supposedly the thing that holds the universe together. Myth. Odin's cult.. popular, yes, but nothing compared to this." He held in one hand a small lump of gold which he'd been able to transmute this morning. "Nothing compared to the Great Work."

There was a silence for a moment.

"You rule over a beautiful kingdom, friend," spoke the figure.

"I am the God of the Oasis," replied Sura. "Is it not natural that my oasis, my desert retreat, is the finest?"

"Lovely, nevertheless. Sura.. what if I told you your efforts were futile? That the so-called 'Western Alchemical Tradition' of the Europeans was a weak thing, with one success every thousand years? That there was a faster way to Earth?"

Sura suddenly leaped to the side, grabbing his curved scimitar and swinging towards the intruder.

Osiris only stared as he turned the thing to sand.

"I.. I don't believe it," said Sura, through gritted teeth. "It doesn't make any sense. You're telling lies, friend."

Osiris smiled as he waved a hand, and Sura was attacked with visions of the World Tree; of the Real of Anvils; of the City of Alkan; of Ratatosk; of the true Greatest Work; finally, of Earth.

Sura collapsed, crying manically.

--

The hooded figure only watched as Sura took the Dagger of Imminence, accepting the change. He knew what would happen. Sura gripped the dagger, raised it as high as he could, and called for the ceremonial warriors to commit their ritual suicide.

It was done quickly, with a minimum of screams.

Finally, the Dagger had done it's work, and Sura stepped down.

Once more he wept as the most beautiful Oasis in the Realm Supernatural fell to white sand, destroying all life. The ceremonial warriors remained. They would serve the Realm in undeath. The hooded figure cackled as the entire realm collapsed upon itself, devoured itself, became the fine white soot fell.

There was only the Oasis of the Blackened left, a tiny shrine to a world before.

Sura knew that when the time was right, he'd be forced to destroy that, too.

"Show me Yggdrasil," said Sura, through hardened tears.

Osiris complied.

It started to make sense. He has committed himself to Osiris. His body remembers but his mind does not.

He composed himself once more and headed to his temple to do the exact same thing.

Before Sura left, a thought crossed his mind, horrible in it's implications -

Was this the time?

Was now the point when Sura was to destroy the Oasis, transmuting it to sand? Was it now? Was it now that he had to forsake the last remnant of the innocent past.. and enter the deadly future?

He looks to the oasis. His hands move before his head can think. The oasis would be destroyed.

The scorpions would be displeased.

The black sand was taken, destroyed, and reborn pure white.. the palms fell upon themselves in a torrent of pallid sand.. the water dried up, disappearing rapidly, became nothing.. the animals died and were decomposed and dried in seconds..

Sand to sand.

It was done.

The Oasis of the Blackened had become the Sacrifice, destroyed so that Sura could prosper once again.

He did not shed a tear, although he felt he should. He then headed to his temple to gain  more memories.

As Sura moved to leave, he heard a powerful rumbling, and was suddenly thrown to the sand. Something - huge, heavy, black, writhing - was on top of him, and he cried in agony as a powerful pincer cut clean through his hand, chopping it off cleanly. He felt a familiar, much intensified, sting in his leg..

You shall pay, Pharaoh of Lies, said the true King of the Scorpions.

Sura would not be out done here. With bountiful amounts of sand, he moves and shapes it to bind the scorpion king.

The sand forms, hardens, reforms.. and the Scorpion King is caught within a prison of sand.

Sura stands, and collapses. The poison is running through his body. He feels woozy.. his head, no - arm hurts, and everything seems to go a shade of pink.

Release me, King of Liars, or you will be destroyed!

Sura vomits sand. It is an entirely familiar feeling.

"You... cannot beat me here. I promised you the land - nothing about the oasis being intact. So, tell me why i shouldn't constrict the sand beneath the oasis, crushing all your kin" he spat.

There was fury in the eyes of the scorpion. It was huge and menacing, a true monstrosity that had spent most of its life, undoubtedly, hidden beneath the sands..

It was trapped, now. Harmless, though it still looked like it could inflict much harm.

You destroyed it. The paradise. To see us fail, to see our dreams shatter. The scorpion people despise such - such dishonour as yours, said the King of Scorpions.

"I know nothing of your dreams. I have been dormant for some time without the benefit of my memories. You still hold me accountable?"

He searches his knowledge and pondered how he could break the mind of this useful being, bind it to his will.

You promised us this Oasis, this mashmaduhb of the desert, and then you took it away from us. You are a liar and a cheat.

Sura felt a little intimidated by the rage caught within the scorpion's eyes..

He knew the scorpion-folk, though, and knew their tendencies towards the arcane. If he wanted to win their respect, he would need to give them many secrets, teach them the forbidden things - if he wanted to scare them, however, into discipline, a simple act of sorcery would do. As much as they loved the hoodoo of the sand, they clandestine religion of the scorpion-folk held the magic of Sura above all others, and they feared it even more than rain.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:11, Sun 01 Nov 2009.

Sura takes the silver sword and cuts his forearm open, letting it bleed onto the sand, He would force visions of death upon the scorpions that dwell beneath, as well as the King himself. The visions contain the destruction of their people, and of the realm for aggravating Sura Al'Amun.

As the sand above burst in a demented fury, scorpions going into seizures above, Sura knew that his magic had succeeded. The King of Scorpions had gone entirely silent, surrounded by his manic, hallucinating brethren, and Sura knew that he was struggling against it..

But no. The look in it's eyes.. it, too was, gone.

When the scorpions - many dead, devoured by their kin - returned in fear, the hallucinations banished, the giant scorpion bowed, in it's way, to Sura.

You have a true mastery over the dark arts, it said. Lillies at your feet, Sura of Akhenatan.

Sura releases him from his sand prison. "And be sure to remember it... You will remain to live here but under my rule. You may have my favour, but never rule." Sura looks sympathetically at his hand. "I want your scorpions to relay news to me when it arises. I am expecting intruders, if you detect them, i would like to know. Also, i would command you to ambush intruders like you did to me. You will defend Desolace with your life."

With more than life, Lord. With blood and bone, claw and tooth, with the sting that kills. I will defend Desolace. Forgive me my.. arrogance.

The king of the scorpions had been broken.

"Good." he simply stated. He then turned away and walked towards his temple.

As Sura began to walk back towards Akhenatan, he felt strange. There was a knot of tension in his gut, a strange omen that forebode death and destruction - that something bad was soon to occur..

He enters his temple, ignoring the feeling for now. He then uses his mind magic again, commanding his memories to return.

Before Sura could complete the ritual, he was approached by a man dressed in silver and gold. A heavy sword hung at his belt, and Sura saw within his eyes that this God was cruel, cunning, and zealous..

"Sura of Desolace," spat the man. "I am Aesin of the Conclave. You will be coming with me, now."

He unsheathed his blade. It lit, softer than magnesium, with strange power.

Sura wondered how this Divine managed to get into his realm without him knowing. He assumes this foe is extremely dangerous.

"Why will i be coming with you?" he says, feigning ignorance. As he says this he creates a mirage of a giant scarab emerging behind Aesin, shifting the sands to make it look as real as possible.
"Look out!" he shouts, warning Aesin. If Aesin turned around to defend/fight, Sura would create sand to bind and crush Aesin, as well as spikes to pierce his body.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:21, Sat 07 Nov 2009.

"Rargh!" screamed Aesin, turning to meet the scarab. As he did so, slashing at the thing - and feeling no resistance, as the illusion was simply that - Sura saw Aesin form an expression of surprise on his face.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Sun 08 Nov 2009.

Sura then attacked,using the sand to form into several spikes, aimed to pierce through the God of Order.

Aesin, distracted by the mirage, was struck full force by the blast. It shook him, yes, but he did not fall. The skin had been scraped, broken, and he bled in a dozen separate places..

Aesin breathed heavily.

"You cannot," he said, "Cannot get away with this.."

Sura didn't waste any time, expanding the spikes that lay in the flesh of the divine,  eventually ripping him to pieces.

Aesin escaped.

There was a writhing, a twitching, a groan - and he'd escaped, gotten out of the prison of sand, moved to portal out of the Realm..

Running as he did, he didn't notice the darkness descending upon Desolace, and crashed into the figure that was suddenly evoked before him.

"And who are you?" asked Osiris-Ra, looking at him curiously. "Excuse me.."

Aesin screamed as he was thrust to sand.

Sura dropped to his knees before Osiris-Ra. "Welcome Lord. Forgive me for my earlier failures. I am in the progress of returning my memories..."

"Yes. Perhaps you should not have lost them, Sura. But my time is short - it is sunup soon -  and there is something more important that you need to do for me. I assume you have not found the Scepter..?"

When the word 'scepter' was mentioned, Sura felt a little twinge of fear.

"Not physically found..." he said with a whisper of fear. "However there is a cave then threatens any with the power of thunder upon entrance, if its here, i would guess its in there."

"Time - time is against me. You will find the Rod before the next circling of Force and Fire, Sura," said Osiris-Ra, forcefully. "But for now - another task is required. Yes. You have heard of the deaths of most of your late peers - other generals? Those who could not keep their tongues straight - those who dared jeer at my return?"

"Of course. Nothing less than they deserve, Lord." Deep down, somewhere, Sura felt sadness, especially for his friend, God of Mathematics. The only thing stopping it from surfacing, was the lack of memories.

Poor God of Mathematics. Chances are Sura couldn't even remember his name.

"Yes. Yes - but now I am short, Sura. I need more powerful warlords not yet associated with the main Cult. I am tasking you with finding one of them, and passing them the Gong that will Sing the Song that will Kill the Earth. You are not to touch or use the Gong while it is in your hands. You accept?"

Ruse appears here. Well, actually, Ruse does not appear here. A small fluffy cloud adds itself to the few other desert clouds high in the sky, or perhaps it is lower in the billowing sandstorms. It drifts there, unimposing. Uninteresting. Unnoticable.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:17, Mon 16 Nov 2009.

"You would have me find a suitable prospect? I will oblige. And what of your cult, Lord? Shall i enforce your undeniable will upon them?". Sura had hoped that he had pleased his Lord enough for an acknowledgment of responsibility and now he had it... but he craved more.

Sura

"No. Let them be. They serve a purpose, as do you. By my next manifestation, Sura, you are to have elected a general for me and given him the Gong. You will find the Gong in Akhenatan. Do not touch it, Sura."

He looked up, perhaps at a bird in the sky..

"Company, Sura?"

Sura sensed nothing.

"A spy, Sura?"

Still, nothing.

"Would you betray me, my servant..?"

Sura felt manic fear hit him in a frenzy.

Ruse

Ruse senses four 'blips' of divinity - one extremely powerful presence, near another, less potent manifestation, and two 'twisted' divinities elsewhere.

He soon sights two figures talking near Akhenatan - Sura and Osiris-Ra.

It was very hot, however, and Ruse knew that he was weak - the cloud, despite his best efforts, had been evaporating as he'd searched, sapping his strength.

"No Lord, i exist to serve you... And im not one for company. It must be our enemies." Sura looked intently towards the sky, but failed to see or detect anything. "I will take care of it... Unless you crave to end its life, Lord?"

Ruse...well, more like the innocent white fluffy cloud (not so fluffy now thanks to that damn desert heat) had seen enough. He saw the gong, and Osiris and Sura. He wanted to spy on them some more, but Ruse knew that this was his chance to escape. He could sense Osiris' gaze upon him, and didn't want to test chance any longer. Even more so, he couldn't take the heat without making more mist, and that risked blowing his cover.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:02, Tue 17 Nov 2009.

Sura

"Hrmmh. Perhaps. Sura, you have lapsed on the yearly application of your Invocations. Your mind is clouded. Perhaps you should return to the Cult."

Ruse

Scanning..
Scan failed.
Theoelectromagnetic error - power?
SUIT has encountered an intelligence error, but can attempt to fix this by accessing the Earthborn and Conclave information vaults. Accept/decline?

Whatever Ruse saw, he might have to commit it to memory.

Ruse began to feel weak..

"You would have me renew my vow of loyalty? Without hesitation of course." Sura said, still looking towards the sky, hoping he could see the intruder. "I crave to slay this intruder, Lord..."

Ruse ignores SUIT's query, and devotes all of his energy for the "round" into portaling out of Desolace. He returns back to his own realm.

Osiris-Ra looked to the sky.

"Then by all means, my servant, have at it."

The cloud, however, had gone..

"I don't detect him Lord..." He was filled with rage for a moment then turned to Osiris-Ra. "Lord, how long do you have remaining?"

"Two minutes.. maybe a little more. Yes, he has gone. No matter. It was a creature born of mist.. no matter. You will find me a general, Sura."

"Yes my Lord. I have already begun my search." He looked at his Master with a glimpse of awe. "I will look after the Cult too, Master. I expect conflict the Conclave that claims the realms."

"I see. Find me a general, Sura, and find me the Rod - my time is short - I must -"

There was a nasty cracking sound - like thunder that cracked the universe - and Osiris-Ra became a black smear against the sand, suddenly turning to shadow and then nothing at all. The Dread Lord's time was up.

Sura immediately entered his temple, to call upon more of his lost memories.

Sura felt uncomfortable performing the ritual within Akhenatan. It was a feeling he'd experienced strongly before, but rather something that had only recently emerged - perhaps with the arrival of his Dread Lord?

There was certainly something different about the place.. something had changed. Sura was soon convinced that this was the work of Osiris-Ra - perhaps he was trying to pass on a message of some sort? - and soon came upon confirmation of this - a hastily scrawled glyph upon a single obelisk within the inner chambers of the pyramid. The glyph was long, weird, black and red, spidery.. but very much the writing, however alien, of the Lord.

But what did this mean?

He examines it closely, hoping to jog a memory. He attempts to call upon knowledge specific to the glyph using his mind magic.

Sura has a feeling that he can evoke the memories - other memories? - from the glyph, just as he would normally - he feels as if some hidden information is encrypted within  the glyph. Some sign, a signal..

The mind magic seems blocked - as if some invisible force is thwarting it. Sura guesses that he needs the Scepter of Osiris before he can unravel the mysterious seal.

He runs his hand over the glyph one more time before heading North, to the Crypt of Tchal Habbis.

The place is dead and dry and ruined by sand and sun. As Sura descends about the Crypt of Tchal Habbis, he sees that steel - worn, a little, by the sand - had been scattered, as if thrown by a great hand, across the entire stretch of desert. Great cogs sat amongst shattered stone as wire and sheets of scrap littered the sacred sands.

This, Sura knew, was were Tchal Habbis - Chalybis - had died.

Again, attempting to use his mind magic, he draws upon memories of how he died, why he died here and his relationship with this "Tchal Habbis".

The winds of battle swept across barren sands.

IX: Chalybis Will Be Taking The Scepter For It Is His Right And Duty To Do So And You Cannot Stop This

"I'm afraid not," said Sura, and left it at that.

They stood facing each other for what seemed like centuries. Sura enjoyed the tension. Chalybis, presumably, did not even register it.

The Beasts That Ate Sand and Dust moved across the blasted plains, taking everything they could, their greed insurmountable. They were hunting, Sura knew, for precious metals - they would find none. Sura did not worry. There would always be more sand, more soil ruined by the light of the sun.

The Beasts That Ate Sand and Dust did not move towards him or Chalybis - this was good, for Sura's entire military force had been buried beneath the sands the very night before. When the time was right, they would burst - literal corpses springing from the ground - and, garbed in their ceremonial armour, destroy the god that Osiris-Ra called Tchal Habbis.

It was not long, now, before the battle would begin..

Sura, having a taste of his past, craved more. He drew harder upon his magics to call the rest of the memory.

X: You Cannot Hope

They came from the ground, sacred warriors that had been buried months before. This was Sura's place, and he chose the exact battleground - and the God-Machine had expected no treachery. As the soldiers who had died and been returned flung themselves from out of the ground, screaming and shouting their glory, blades forged with a single, near-invisible shard of Living Metal whipped across the great legs of the furious machine.

At this there was a furious roar, and many were crushed in the storm of steel - but Sura was long gone. He had once again met the sand, and only took his true form to destroy the Beasts That Ate Sand And Dust. They fell quickly, imperfect creations, held together only by the distracted will of Tchal Habbis.

There was a mighty crash, and creatures made of steel fell upon the soldiers who were dead, and the ceremonial warriors once again saw the black rivers, crushed as they were by thunderous metal.

XI: I Will Take The Thunder

"No," said Sura. "You cannot.."

Rod of thunder? This could be the answer to his task. He called upon more of the memory.

There was a barrier here; some sort of mental block. If Sura was willing to expend the effort and time, he knew he could break it, but..

(but?) Sura left it for now. He headed for the tomb of thunder.

(But there was a risk he'd go too far.)

There were no guardians protecting the tomb, only several small slivers of metal welded, it would seem, to the entrance of the cave. There was a tension in the air, and Sura felt a strange tingling in his spine..

Again, he calls upon his memories for this place.

There were no memories to conjure - not here.

Sura knew that he would have to enter the tomb for more success with the spell.

As he finished the conjuration, he felt another series of presences in his Realm.. three Gods, perhaps.

He called upon his scorpion allies to identify the presences as he moved towards them.

As Sura got closer to the intruders, the scorpions spoke to him, a little fearfully.

One comes wrapped in the sacred shell of the scarab, Lord.

Laktos.

Sura made his way towards them still. "Does he hope to defeat me here? At the source of my power?". He looked to the scorpion. "What do you know of Laktos?"

Nothing, Lord, said the scorpion, confused. The name has no meaning to I.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:24, Fri 25 Dec 2009.

Sura then continue to walk until he could see them. He'd then ready a sand defense and observe them.

Balast appears here and looks around him reaching out will all his senses for Sura.

Sura

Sura watched, sand shaping around him, as he saw the three - two dark-robed, silver-bladed Cultists and the bug Laktos. Behind them - a newcomer. A fourth presence. A dark being, with broken eyes.. Sura saw Laktos turn to watch the visitor.

Balast

Balast senses three divines, a little less then a hundred meters in front of him - one cloaked in the battle-armour of the scarab, the two others wearing the dark robes of Osiris-Ra, silver blades in their hands.

As Balast appears, the scarab-clothed one turns and stares at him menacingly.

Sura saw that he was distracted by the newcomer and used his magic to incinerate Laktos' arms and legs.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:52, Tue 29 Dec 2009.

Balast looked hard at the three and a grim smile twisted his mask.

"I have come to seek entry into the ranks of the sand.  I am a god with aims similar to those of Osiris-Ra and I believe service to him will bring me great joy."

He slams one armoured fist across his chest in salute.

"Be gone, pathetic worm," spat Laktos towards Balast.

Sura felt a strange sense of familiarity as all of the heat within his body was ripped from him. He muttered a few words of power instinctively as his knees weakened and his head started to throb. Strange muttering filled the air..

There was a tension.

There was a single flicker, and Laktos screamed and screeched as he burst into flames, the scarab-armour running off him as if something much lighter, and the smells of burning flesh and chemicals filled the air. He waved his hand, rolled on the sands, and yelled his pain as he died.

The tension remained.

The tension released, and grey-green flames ripped throughout the two Cultists that had followed him. They cried out their similar screams as they died. The flames continued to grow, transmuting sand to glass, filling Desolace with smoke and ash.

Flames ripped through Balast, though he was lucky - while he still fell, uttering a silent scream, he knew that the wounds were only temporary. The flames would not take his life. His form - this form - was mangled, scarred, but he was not dead.

Sura panted heavily. He made his way towards the smoking wrecks. He was exhausted and felt strange but his smile spread wide across his face. He dropped his mirage that hid his true form, revealing the skeletal figure that once resembled a man. He examined Laktos' remains, looking for life as well as his possessions.

Balast props himself up on one arm and looks hard at Sura.

"Can I assume you had a reason for including me in that sand-god?"

Sura saw Laktos, boiled like a lobster within his own armour, Blade of the Sun at his side, but before he could continue he felt a huge wave of exhaustion crash over him - paradox. Sura collapsed, unable even to stand up, as the world spun once more.

Balast leavered himself upright and walked over to the collapsed god.

"Last time I checked my words didn't cause others to collapse.  Something in the corpse perhaps?"

He leant down and examined the corpse carefully being sure not to touch anything.

Overcome with the paradox Sura laid still for a moment. He took this moment, his victory. He pulls himself up the best he could and his attention went to the stranger. He did not speak however, he just stared at him.

At the first sign of movement on Sura's part Balast swung round, blade extended in a flat arc designed to connect hard with Sura's skull.  His other hand reached for Laktos's Blade of the Sun as he attempted to pick it up and prepare to use it in his next attack.

"I invented the concept of treachery fool, do not try to trick me by playing dead."

Reacting as fast as he could, Sura attempted a sand/dodge maneuver: The details being sand was flung upwards to absorb the blow as well as to get into Balasts eyes while Sura made some distance by rolling away.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:20, Fri 01 Jan 2010.

Balast felt his blade hit the rushing of sand, and it was thrown from his hand, unable to hit such force. Sura rolled, attempting as best he could, but was struck with a glancing blow upon the thing as the Balast struck him with the Blade of the Sun - a low blow.

Several meters apart from one another, coughs and huffs wracking their body, neither fighters were in a good position. Sura felt like he wanted to collapse. Balast felt the heat of the sun, the dryness of his mouth, the blistering, biting burns - he felt like he should be dead.

There was a rumbling beneath.

Quickly responding Sura encased himself in sand - making it as solid as possible: an ultimate defense.

Balast simply picked up Laktos's corpse, heaved it over one shoulder and disappeared through his own black portal.

Balast saw the God of the Desert drop to the sands and disappear within their dusty embrace. Before Balast could react, Sura was gone, the area about him empty.

As he staggered towards the corpse, he realized how thirsty he was, how hot the sun's stare was..

There is a rumbling beneath the ground, and it explodes below Balast, a giant thing of black armour, many legs, and vicious claws. Balast felt agony as the thing descended upon him, crushing against his many burns, and as he fell towards the sand he felt the stinging of its tail.

He heard the laughter of Sura.

Sura thought it best to remain in his defense.

(I'm just holding this off until I finish my PM with Balast. Sorry, Sura.)

Balast swivelled and simply rolled so the sword was below him and attempts to use his weight to drive the blade into the scorpion's back just behind the head.

As sand rushes about them, a cacophony of dry thunder, Raelis feels his sword twang against the armoured creature with seemingly little affect - but as he is thrown, viciously, into the air, he sees that he is wrong. The beast, a giant scorpion, bled all over the white sand. Raelis was thrown roughly ten meters; the creature looked at him, its eyes filled with hate.

Sura emerged from his protection and aimed to sever Balast's sword hand using bladed sand, rising up from under Balasts shoulder.

As he flew through the air Balast drew on his own power.

As Balast struck the soft sand, his body wracked in a general, throbbing agony, there was a deeper, much harsher, pain - as he rolled, something extremely sharp had slashed his sword arm clean, leaving the detached arm (and sword) several meters behind him. Black blood gushed from the wound, and Balast struggled to escape.

As he scrambled through the sand, bleeding and shaking, there was a light -

- a shattered Realm - the death of Law - a cracking sound -

And, perhaps to Sura's despair, Balast was gone.

(Balast - continue in Litheris)

Sura finally had time to breathe. He headed for his temple to rest.

The pyramid was cool, even under the blistering heat of Desolace's sun, and the dry dust and looming gold was a comfort to the God of Sand.

Its time Sura familiarised himself once more with Akhenaten. He walked its long maze-like corridors, running his fingers across the walls as he does so.

The pyramid was a constant reminder of a job unfinished - he was still  yet to access to the Tomb of Thunder. Despite this anxiety, however, he was relaxed, almost calm.. it was always this way in desperate, gloomy Akhenatan, the temple of the lost.

He waited until he felt 100%. He'll need it for what is next.

A few hours passed, in silence. Sura lay there, his energy recovering..

When he awoke, there was a gathering of mist above him. It swirled in a beautiful fashion, finally coming to rest as a deeply familiar face.. that of the Dreaded Lord himself.

"Sura.."

Sura couldn't believe his eyes. He was cautious that this was trickery. "My... Lord?"

The mist resonated with occult force, the shifting image of Osiris-Ra incredibly frightening and vivid.

"Sura.. Sura.. tell me, General, have you found.. my scepter..?"

"I... may have. There are barriers. Both physical and my own mental barriers.". Sura wondered... "Lord, how are you manifesting here?"

"I.. I come from.. from the silent realms, of death.. death and others.. Sura.. can you - can you do something for me, General .. ?"

"Anything, lord."

"I.. I need.."

The mist faded. With a hint of despair Sura realized that the Dreaded Lord was gone.

Sura was motionless for a moment. He then kicked into gear. He concentrated on his temple and the area around it. The sand beneath Akhenaten would disperse, slowly sinking the pyramid beneath the ground until he met terrain that was not sand.

Everything shook and rattled, a loud roar filling Akhenatan as the pyramid fell. Hours passed - Sura did not have the power or energy to do this quickly, but eventually a bank of stone was hit and the pyramid stopped its descent into the ground. An eery silence replaced the crashing.

Sura then reached out to all the insects of Desolace. "Sand dwellers of Desolace, i require you all to help move my peoples remains to my temple immediatly. I also suggest making your way beneath the surface - i fear intrusion on our land."

Sura once again took his rest.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:57, Tue 26 Jan 2010.

Sura did not get a response from the insects of Desolace; it seemed that he was too deep down even for them, and the worms of the place were not speaking to him.

Sura exited his temple, creating temporary tunnels until he was a little closer to the surface. He then repeated his message.

Many hours passed - rising up in the sand was a much, much slower process. Sura felt his strength weakening with every inch of movement. As he reached the top, however, the entire pyramid began to shake violently. There were vicious crashes and soaring roars from above. Chipped stone fell from the ceiling. The roars continued.

There was no answer from the insects.

Sura rushed back down through his tunnels, back into his temple - letting the sand coollapse once back inside.

Luckily the stone that formed the outer protections of Akhenatan were mightily thick - Sura realized that something horribly wrong was occurring up above, something that stoked a deep rage within him. He did not have the energy to move the pyramid at any more than the slowest speed available, but it retreated back down into the sand. He could still hear the roaring, and the pyramid still shook and crashed; Sura figured that they were directing whatever was above towards the swirling and shifting of the sand.

Sura sat in his temple, listening to the distant rumbles. He took his rest. During his meditation he put his mind to his next task.

(Sigh. I knew you'd make me write it down.)

It was hard to meditate after the rumbling, but somehow the Grand Magus managed.

Sura gathered several gold coins to divine with. "I, Sura Al'Amun, seek an sacred creature to slay and to claim the bones of to offer to the Ahemait. Sura then threw the coins across the ground.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:13, Wed 03 Feb 2010.

The coins scattered. Sura knew, then, a suitable price for his enchantment: the bones of a certain giant scorpion would easily qualify. It was bound to the Realm, and not to him - sacred - and while most scorpions did not have bones of any sort, Sura knew that the creature was only named 'scorpion' due to certain physical features and that there was nothing else like it - the thing would have bones. He was certain.

Sura was reluctant to kill the scorpion - it was too valuable at the moment. He threw the coins again, leaving the scorpion out of the equation.

The coins scattered, danced, revealing to Sura a pattern..

He saw a man with the killing blow, a proud and regal man with sharp features and an arrogant smirk.. tied, now, to the Divinity of a Conclave dog.. Rhoose.. but sacred enough, for his abilities spring from Yggdrasil and not the God itself.. the man, named Vact, could rob a God of all his lives..

Sura thought for a moment. He divined again, this time directly on Vact. He wanted to know his nature, his abilities and his weaknessess.

The information gleaned from such a divination was slim, but entirely meaningful: Sura confirmed that to be killed by Vact would void all metaphysical, theoelectromagnetic link the God may have to Yggdrasil, sending them to the Realm of Rivers prematurely. He saw that a great sacrifice was to occur - that Vact was to demonstrate justice by destroying, utterly, a sworn enemy of his people - an enemy that caused much destruction. He saw that Vact was stronger, faster, and cleverer than many others, but was still mortal - could still be killed.

Sura divined again, this time on Vacts master "Roose".
This message was last edited by the player at 16:11, Tue 09 Feb 2010.

The gold was cast again.

He knew that Ruse was a Divine made manifest; of quite immense personal and political power; that he commanded quite a powerful realm, and was a 'liar of all liars'; he learnt roughly how to access the Valley of Mist, Ruse's Realm; amongst other, less useful things.

Sura began counting cards in his head. He sat silently, meditating on the nature of chance and how to influence it. He exerted himself, reaching out, attempting to control the roll of the dice.

After a long time of this, Sura broke concentration and exited his temple, shifting the sand around him as he headed to the valley of mist.

Sura felt a hidden potential rise up within him, felt an electric whip cross his back, and the operation was complete.

There was a flash - a thousand wailing angels - the mischief of a fertility deity -

And he was there.

Fran appears here, wounded and slightly dazed. "Well, I guess that could've gone better" She mutters, lying motionless on the ground, contemplating not only how to cure herself, but how to get rid of those people who sot her.

Sura, having just escaped, took a breathe in his temple. He no longer needed Vact, so it was pointless to risk his life. He attempted to communicate to the king of scorpions, scanning for his presence.

Sura

Sura felt an alien, yet Divine, presence in his Realm. It did not please him. Yet, he was exhausted. The call to the scorpion had been sent, but Sura knew the beast could not rightly enter Akhenatan.

Fran

Fran was bleeding. She felt delirious. The images spun about her, the sun's glare dazzled her. It was hot. The moisture from her mouth had all but dried. She felt a vicious pain on her ankle - had something bitten her?

No time to investigate. A cool shadow soon passed over her.

"Sympathizer to Osiris-Ra.. or one of his victims?" asked the husky, rugged voice.

Sura would have the scorpion wait outside. For now he rested.

Fran struggles to flip herself over, muttering nonsensically about her people all the while.

Sura

Sura slowly recovered his energy, embraced as he was by the cool stone of Akhenatan.

Fran

"You are not needed, nor are you welcome, in this place, Fran," the shadowy figure said. "Be gone."

Fran felt the winds pick her up - though in reality, it was the shadows conjured by this strange man - and bring her out of the place. For a small while she was lost, flailing, drowning in the rivers of time-space, but soon she awoke in her familiar bed - in Steinbach.

Sura waited, gathering as much strength as he could. This was slightly hindered by him creating sand in the room (even though sand was already in the room, it was better off to be prepared.)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Wed 03 Mar 2010.

Sand gushed about Sura's wretched body as he lay there, resting. The Divinity he sensed in his Realm had gone, fled to an easier place. Coward.

Sura, convinced he was alone, slowed down his sand production rate. He would stop when he'd have enough.

Sand began to pour out of Sura, quickly filling the room, stopping only when the Lord of Sand deemed that he'd made enough. He felt off, somehow. Edgy. Something was watching him..

Sura stood perfectly still, raising the sand around him slowly, ready for defensive actions. He scanned his realm for a presence.

Sura didn't feel a presence. He was tense, but nothing came upon him. The feelings of being watched only intensified.

Sura could wait. He had all the time in the realm...

Nothing happened for a long while.

Sura jolted awake, suddenly sensing a presence - or rather, a collection of presences - present upon the blasted, glassy deserts above. They had only then become obvious to his Divine probings, and did not appear to be Divine in origins.

He spoke to the King of Scorpions. "We have guests. See who they are." Sura then started creating something big...

The scorpion did not return. The presences did not waver. Sura felt a strange cackling, crackling in his head, a psychic static that robbed of him of many of his keener faculties, cognitive abilities..

The mound of sand in front of him was not yet big enough to carry a squadron of Greek warriors, but it was getting there. He'd faltered without realising.

Sura, it seems, would have to see what was in his realm himself. He stopped the sand creation - he would return later to finish it off. He left his temple, arriving at the surface of Desolace. He scanned the horizon.

Just as Sura stopped working on his creation, he felt a sudden element of unease descend upon him. He felt somehow molested, examined, touched in hundreds of ways.. and then it passed, all too suddenly as it had come. e did not sense any immediate magical fates or affects upon him. What was it.. ?

It was night in Desolace.

This was deeply, deeply disturbing.

There was no moon, only a shroud of utter darkness that filled the land. A tsunami of shadows..

The sand where Sura stood was soft, empty. In the distance, Sura saw an outcropping of rocks... no. Not rocks. What was it.. ?

Desolace had not seen the darkness since its creation, a troubling omen. Sura quickly gathered an assumption. With no presences clearly dectectable and something clearly examining him, Sura gathers its a being greater than he. Sura quickly retreated back to his temple. This being would have to come to him.

The temple was quiet, dark, soothing, cool. Sura felt much more comfortable within the temple Akhenatan, surrounded as he was by the wealth of a thousand kings.

He continued with his sand creation while he waited. He assumed his connection to his insects was cut because of the strange darkness. He concluded that this presence wasn't friendly. The amount of sand in here would be a good defense - especially in these close quatres.

The sand formed, gathered, shaped by the will of its Lord and creator. Time passed. Nothing attacked Sura.

He continues until he has enough.

There was, at once, enough sand for the mammoth task the Lord of Sand had appointed himself. It filled every corner, surrounded the room utterly.

The thought crossed Sura's mind that whatever was in his realm would strike after hes exhausted himself. He continued to flow out sand as he thought.

More and more sand filled Sura, filling the chamber with several feet worth of the stuff. Perhaps he would need to find another chamber in which to create his clay.

Sura moved to a new, connecting chamber, spreading the sand throughout both of them. He could use the sand outside but it was not right for such a creation. It must be pure.

This chamber, too, filled with sand. There was literally tonnes of it. Was Sura attempting to create a Slaughterbeast, perhaps, or a faux-Kraken?

Something better! He flowed sand out into the chambers, moving it to more chambers if he has to. He also begins to raise Akhenaten from the ground, preparing to spurn out this new creation.

Very, very slowly, the pyramid rose from the sand. There was suddenly the shattering of glass as it burst into the despicable night, where it would rest.

Once the sand had flown from him he walked to the entrance of the temple and moved the sand out as he formed it into his creation.

Sura stopped. He felt sick. Violated, somehow. Physically ill. His vision was blurred, and then..

It was all fine. He was fine.

The double fatus had been broken.

Sura wasn't concerned. He continued.

The sand slowly - very slowly - formed the image of a single large mound, from which his creation would have to be carved.

He crafted, cut and designed the sand as it flowed from his temple. Stroke after stroke he would stay there, for as long as it takes.

Soon, the basic crafting was complete. An hour had passed and the sculpture of the thing, without any inherent properties, stood ahead of Sura. It was massive, necessarily carved in the larger chambers of Akhenatan, and looked every bit the rightful image of death. Perhaps it was the massive pincers, or the thrashing tail that led into a curved, poisonous sting that could only bring torment. The bladed legs, of which there were eight, did not seem particularly friendly. The eyes, however lifeless, seemed filled with an inarticulate, boundless rage.

It was beautiful.

Sura stood in awe for a moment, only to continue work on the details...


He slows down the proccess however, for his strength was needed elsewhere.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Sun 25 Apr 2010.

Time passed, the project stopped. Sura felt the rush of mystical energy envelop him and then fling itself to further, sun-scorched deserts where it would be needed. A fate had been cast, entwined with the destiny of Tushmuthut.

The magic continued, and Sura soon felt himself be overcome by the energies of Fate. It was a good, confident feeling, but the Lord of Sand knew such feelings could be misleading.

He stalled his creation fully for now. He now began to prepare an attack to use in Tush or even Nibor.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:34, Wed 28 Apr 2010.

Sura begins the preliminary invocations, breath-work and trance, manipulations of the sand which ran through all time and space..

And he stopped. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. An edge, a tension, like something was going to drop. It was a relatively alien feeling - less sudden, easier and yet more pervasive than the ruining of a Fate - but it was a feeling that Sura, as an experienced and powerful magus, was trained to know and fear. A shifting of Higher Forces, of Sorcery most pure; if he was to attempt black magic now, he'd be struck down, possibly robbed of his powers.

It is assumed that Sura stops to consider this. When he does, however, the tension is replaced by another, keener feeling of near-exasperation, a higher tension which ran through his entire being. This, too, he recognized; it was the feeling of a Fate about to be confirmed.

He stopped his attack and dropped to his knees, embracing the sand. He breathed slowly and heavily - a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Tushmuthut was saved for now. His beloved city will rebuild, stronger than ever.

He looked to his creation and smiled. The thought of its capabilities filled him with several shades of happiness. He craved to continue work on it. But there was something he would create first, something smaller. He gathered the sands and formed a mighty eagle, with keener senses than its counterpart. It was to act as a radar - a scout. Once formed it was to survey the realm, looking for the source of the darkness. Sura missed his sun.

Once the eagle was made he continued on his masterpiece until he heard word from the eagle.

The Fierce God manifested in this realm, garbed in more than a thousand wrapped strips of white cloth. The armor laid beneath, his white blade sheathed.

He sought the master of this realm. His realm had been a desert.

There were two others to visit, after this; The Blazing Hell of Fire, and The Dungeon. Desert realms. These seeds would form the  bedrock of the Golden Realm.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:20, Fri 30 Apr 2010.

Sura

Sura was a master at his work, and the eagle was soon created and set loose upon the land.

It soon returned, bred for alacrity as it was.

Sura was to learn that there was an unknown God, of a different nature to most, near Akhenatan. His own thoughts confirmed this. As for the source of the darkness, Sura learned that the blazing sun of Tushmuthut had itself been completely snuffed out, destroyed; there was nothing left of the sky-furnace. The eagle reported vague meteoric activity from the destruction of the orb, to the south.

Fierce God

The desert was extremely cold. There was no sun, only darkness. Everything was cloaked in the shadows bought by a few flickering stars. Fierce walked for the longest time, in the twisting, turning of the deserts, until he reached a massive pyramid - black stone scraping the sky with its majesty.

Sura will solve both problems shortly. He leaves his creation for now and heads into Akhenaten.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:58, Tue 11 May 2010.

The fierce god beheld the monument. The grandest of tombstones. He would not trespass; as a spirit, he knew the ways.

Expending a portion of the energy that maintained him, he contacted this realm's master with telepathy. Sand-god. Will you not extend your hospitality? It is the custom.

Sura

Sure receives the telepathic message, spoken by the intruder: Sand-god. Will you not extend your hospitality? It is the custom. As he received the message, deep in Akhenatan, he finished his work with a sigh. The eagle flew off, out of Akhenatan and into the night.

Fierce God

It was deathly cold in the night of Desolace. There was not yet a telepathic answer, but the Fierce God knew that his message had been sent. Nothing yet stirred from within the pyramid.

He settled on the sands, crossing his legs, awaiting his host.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:21, Wed 12 May 2010.

Sura came to the mouth of his temple and watched his guest closely. He kept his distance, but they were in talking distance - he did not say anything, however.

"True Hero of Tushmuhtut. I know your lord. In the future of another Tree, it was I whom free'd him from his prison. He had fallen to madness, in that time. What Path do you walk, Hero?" He politely questioned.

His voice was ancient, his tone slow, solemn.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Wed 12 May 2010.

An eagle cawed high above the two, circling, finally descending upon Fierce God's shoulder. It then methodically began to claw into said shoulder, pecking occasionally and with some malice at his head.

The fierce god used telepathy to alter the bird's mind, forcing it to stop being annoying and sit quietly on his shoulder like a good bird.

He stare at Max for an extended period of time. "The path i walk?" Sura rasped. His eye twitched slightly. He didn't answer the question, instead he asked his own. "Why do you intrude here? What is your purpose?"

The Fierce God rose.

"I have come to remind you. Sands are shifting, a tempest to the east-Écrasez l'Infâme. If you do not decide the path, you will be lost."

 And then he was gone.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:03, Mon 17 May 2010.

The Lord of Sand heard the Word of Power, spoken almost casually but with force - Écrasez l'Infâme. He felt the alien theoelectromagnetic field, like being struck in the kidneys by a hidden knife, and Sura soon realized it wasn't the attack itself that horrified him - it was the nature of the thing, what it represented. He had spent so much of this recent incarnation squabbling for occult power, for authority over the supernatural, for true magical potency..

And Sura felt it being taken from him, locked away. He was a Grand Magus, a sorcerer of the fifth - and for most, final - scale, and he knew what this would mean. He felt it slipping, stumbling away, further and..

There was a tension bubbling from within him. Sura understood what they represented; the Urge. Protecting its investment. Fierce had fled - the coward! - but as Sura allowed his Word of Power to rip through his form, he also allowed the titanic subsequence of colours and light to be released, filling the barren Desolace with a thunder of prismatic visions that none save himself and the dead would see, a blaze to rival the furnace of the sun.

What did it mean..?

Sura awoke, in the dark cold legacy of Wyrn's sun-smasher, knowing that - somehow - justice had been done. Certain forces would not allow themselves to be reckoned with so easily. The Fierce God - or his master - would have to pay for this.

Sura tentatively felt that his magical hadn't been sealed away, either - the Word of Power had been extinguished. Perhaps - somehow - he'd come out on top. Perhaps.

Sura let out a long 'wheezing" sound. He then creates the rust eating insects from before and sends them to feast on the shadow forge thing. He then continued with his creation.

Sura blinked, began to flex his supernatural muscles, and then collapsed. He was completely exhausted - it was a sudden thing, as if some cosmic force had sapped all of his strength at once. He knew he must sleep..

He rested for now then.

Sura awoke to a roaring, crashing, tumbling - and yet immensely peaceful - sound, all about him. It was the sound of hundreds of gracious, sparkling waterfalls, falling majestically upon the reddened sands below. There was a light breeze and above it all Sura heard the palms move, ever so softly. There was the smell of fresh water moving through hot sand, of various blossoming fruits, hidden under deep shade, of spices and small fires..

"Do you miss it?"

Coldness. Shadows. Stone and curses. The smell of dust and of the dead.

In front of Sura was a tall man robed in lush grey. He sat peacefully next to the God of Sand's slumbering body, glimmering silver blade held in both hands as he did so. He looked at Sura, and his eyes were orbs of hidden wisdom, one white and the other black. He was familiar, somehow.

"The Oasis, Sura," said the man. "You never miss it?"

Sura sat in quiet conflict for a long time. He finally spoke, "Who are you?"

The man smiled, and waited a moment. His eyebrow rose, as did the corner of his lip, and his eyes twinkled with a sort of malicious mystery.

"Who do you think?" he asked.

"You could be Ygg himself and i wouldn't know." Sura simply said.

The man laughed at this. It was a heavy laugh, a booming laugh, carrying the weight of years, decades, centuries, millennia...

"The question remains," he said, suddenly serious. "Do you ever wish for your Oasis opf the Forbidden to return? It can be done, you know. For a price. A small service, against a common foe."

Sura, again, didn't answer the question. "A common foe?" He said, curious.

"Order, Logic, Empires.. an Empire," said the man. "A secret - a conclave. The Conclave and it's Inner Circle of," he spat with disgust, "Odin. That is our common foe. Even now, as we speak, they rally against you in your Holy City."

"It has reached my ears that they do come for Tushmuthut. Sura paused. He was fairly certain that he was talking to Odin, but he did not say anything on the matter. If this man is Odin, however, having him as an ally would be nothing but beneficial. "So, you must know of my hatred of the Conclave to come to me for... assistance? Is that what you want? Why do you have a vendetta against the Conclave?"

"They have perverted everything I once stood for," said the stranger. "Or, perhaps.. they have purified it. It matters little. I cannot stand for it. I can return to you the Forbidden Oasis - and Surannah - for a single service. You remember the time, don't you..? It is late. We must act quickly."

At the word 'Surannah' Sura felt an alien twitch of guilt, and of longing. But as to what the word meant, he was unsure, riddled by the loss of his memory.

Sura pushed back whatever memory was attempting to surface for the time being. "I do not require any reward if my service will bring about the fall of the Conclave."

"Ah," said the man, his old eyes twinkling. "Forgive me. I did not expect one - such as yourself - to work willingly.. without pay."

Sura's eyes narrowed. "Such as myself? And who is it you think i am?"

"You are Sura Al'Amun of the Cursed Desert," said the old man, barely hiding a smirk. "In another life - on another world - you are, and were, and will be Sura Al'Amun of the Forbidden Oasis, Lord of Tushmuthut. You will always be the Lord of Tushmuthut, Sura, even now, in your lowest form. It belongs to you. You remember, of course, your first death in this form..?"

"There is no room in my desert for an Oasis." Sura rasped viciously. "I am, and forever will be, Sura Al'Amun of the Desert." The subject seemed be a touchy one. "And my first death in this form? I deserved it fully."

"Yes. You were there to inherit the Holy City of Tushmuthut, but you neglected to bring your key and your right to such a claim," said the mysterious man. "And yet I see you still do not hold the Scepter. Why is this, Sura? Do you not hold an interest in Tushmuthut?"

Sura was taken aback by this - he, by right, owns Tushmuthut? Finding the scepter just moved up in priority. "I did not know... that the scepter was the key to the city. I'm still piecing together the memories from my old life. Its behind some sort of field... anything that gets too close is blasted by lightning. I spose i have not thought of a way past it, ive been too focused on other tasks."

"Ah, yes," said the man in grey. "The electric-field. The Sura I remember would not have been hampered by that. I can show you how to bypass the fence in return for assistance and cooperation in fighting our mutual enemy. You will need the Scepter if you are to succeed."

He sighed.

"It has been a long while, Sura. Bear no grudge, but.. not so long ago I would have happily castrated myself before working with the Cult of Osiris-Ra. We were the deadliest of enemies.. and yet.. there is more at stake, here."

"You have my assistance, like i said before." Sura began. Sura hadn't given much thought to the field but wasnt going to argue with having the sceptor handed over to him so easily. "Show me how to bypass the field then."

Sura then added, "What exactly is at stake?"

"The reign of Order forever over Chaos, of unthinking, unfeeling law over everything we once stood for," he said. "The death of magic and the rise of thinking machines that cannot be distinguished from life. Imagine it, Sura. Imagine the death this would bring to our World-Tree."

They began walking towards the Tomb of Thunder.

"Mmm." He said agreeingly. "Its an undesirable future, that is for sure." Sura had avoided the question but decided to ask as they drew closer to the tomb. "Who are you, exactly?"

"I am the wanderer in grey," he said, as the heat fell from above. "I am the father of order and the death of chaos. And yet.. a father must strike his own son, murder the evil he has created. Destroy his creation. Have you not guessed it?"

He laughed.

"I am Odin."

Sura had guessed. And he was right. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be right or wrong in this case. "Ah yes. I am humbled, i spose?". He kepted walking, hoping to arrive soon.

Sura felt a word of power throw itself down through Sura's own mind; it was a word of creation.

And in the beginning, God said..

A world had been born.

Odin continued to laugh. "Humbled? I have trouble believing that, young zealot," he said. "Our kind has been at war for centuries - millennia, perhaps. And, if I do.." He smiled. "Creation. You did not tell me you were interested in Geotonomancy, Sura."

"I have nothing personal against you or your beliefs, Odin. I merely fight for mine." Sura was surprised Odin felt that. Although, he is Odin... "Never much fancied the hassle of Geotonomancy. I did always like the results, however." Sura laughed to himself.

"Ah, heh, yes," said Odin. "As did I. It requires the deftest of minds, the most skilled craftsmanship, the most brilliant of imaginations.." He smiled. "It is in this way that the microcosm truly reflects the macrocosm; we, the first children of Yggdrasil, mimic imperfectly her firstborn art.. and create worlds. So much can be done with such a thing."

(Are we there yet?)

Sura remained silent, calmly walking through the sand. He looked up to the sky but was not greeted by the sun, but the night sky. The machine that is blocking the suns still operates...

The cave crackled in front of them. Metal bars around the rim unleashed strange electric energies that clashed amongst themselves quietly, invisibly. It was a strange name, the Tomb of Thunder - there was almost no thunder at all.

"I must warn you," said the man in grey. "You will have to face the corpse.. of my friend. When the cave is opened, he will strike. He is dead but.. empowered. Do you still wish to continue?"

Sura rose sand around him, forming a shield instantly if he needed it. He also created an illusion of himself, assuming a corpse not to know the difference. He then aligned several sand spikes behind the illusion, any attack on the illusion would result in impalement.

"Yes." Sura said simply.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:05, Wed 04 Aug 2010.

Odin smiled, and the electrical field went down. Silence was replaced with silence, but the cave did not stir. Whatever was held within the cave - whatever remained of the once-proud Thor - did not move. High above, the sun beat down upon them.

"Be careful," said Odin. "He will not be.. happy."

Sura made another illusion, and sent it inside the cave, hoping to stir him from his hiding place.

The illusion entered the entrance to the cave but was quickly snuffed. Sura lost control, and lost the illusion. Something had negated his powers.

"The electrical field," said the grey wanderer, solemnly. "No longer lethal, but still active. Built to interact in particularly strange ways with one's theoelectromagnetic field. Without it, the corpse of Thor would easily escape." He frowned. "We are blood-brothers. Over the Sphere of Silver we took our oaths of loyalty, and while he - being dead - is perhaps unbound.. I am not. I cannot raise my hand against him. If you wish to take the Scepter, this is a trial you must complete on your own."

Sura marks the sand at his feet with his power, ready to return here in an instnace if things go wrong. He walks in slowly, sand still floating around him.

As Sura entered the coolness of the cave, he felt it become more and more difficult to retain control over the sand. He was only give or six feet within, and he knew he would soon lose control entirely. Nothing stirred, though a few feet ahead the cave twisted and Sura believed he could see a slight electric glow coming from within - lamps, light-bulbs, or similar. The temperature had dropped rapidly - perhaps artificially so.

He stopped walking, fearing his power would cease all together if he persisted. He tried his hardest to maintain the sand. He stretched it out, seeing how far he could move it down the passage before losing control if it.

Four or five steps before the sand reached the dimly lit turning point in the cave, it fell, lifeless.

Sura approached the spot and marked and X on the ground so he knew where it was. He then continued cautiously now, no sand risen with him.

The cave was cool, but there was an electric, tin-like feel in the air. Sura felt the sand that formed him be disrupted very slightly by the field, much like a mortal's hair would straighten and rise.

He continued slowly along the cave, and the field seemed to intensify and then to abate. Sura turned, and saw, only a few feet ahead of him, a solid slab of marble. It was the door to the Tomb, and it would need to be smashed in order for Sura to claim entrance.

Engraved upon the door: Here lies Thunder, dead and yet without dreaming, struck down by the Curse of Osiris the Betrayer.

Sura wondered how he could destroy this tomb. He wondered if his strength were enough. He took a deep breath and kicked the tomb door with all his might.

Sura felt the impact of his attack smash the marble, and felt the door crumble as if nothing more than dust. He felt himself fall through the crumbled portal, his kick more than enough, and then - suddenly - there was a large crack and he was slammed hard and fast against the cave wall behind him.

There had been an electric current running through the ostentatious door. Sura felt pain ripple slowly through his body, an ache that seemed vague and indirect in nature. Nothing particularly threatening - a warning, perhaps.

In front of him he saw a well-lit room, spherical in shape with a large, obsidian crypt in the middle. There seemed to be no direct source of the light illuminating the mausoleum, and nothing in the room besides the crypt itself. The scepter, perhaps, was inside.

Sura brushed himself off and his eyes narrowed. No point playing cautiously - he stepped into the tomb, trying to spot Thor himself.

There was nothing inside of the circular room except for the marble crypt that dominated the center of the tomb. Chances are it was electrified. Sura had a strong suspicion that the Scepter of Ra had been sealed inside of the tomb, along with the fallen God of Thunder. He felt weak, impotent without access to his Divine powers, though his mystical abilities seemed to be ascending.

Sura focused on the tomb using his necromatic ability, hoping to feel the presence of the falling god of thunder. If he could, he would then try to manipulate the very god himself into breaking out of the tomb.

Sura's affinity for necromancy was at once separate and entwined with his own Theoelectromagnetic field. It was at first difficult to call on his mystical power, but once the God of Deserts had grasped that invisible, silent and unspeakable word which ruled all, the means came to him.

There was a crash and broken marble was flung across the room. Slowly, Sura felt the electric tension in the room rise as the perfectly preserved, pallid hand of the Thunder God rose.

Sura then braced himself. He begin weaving necromantic symbols and chanting when needed. The fallen God of Thunder would be his to control.

The power came too easy to Sura, and soon he felt that he had limited control over Thor. Something was stopping him from taking full control, however - an invisible barrier that seemed easy enough for Sura to cross, if he wished to. As it was he was struggling with keeping Thor still.

Sura would not be trumped so lightly - but he was not reckless. He "felt" this barrier, to deduct its nature. The thought had crossed Sura's mind that it was some form of trap. If he deducted that it was nothing to fear, he would pass it, however, if it was something to disable first, he would attempt to do so.

Sura learned that the barrier stopping him from fully committing to his task was theoectromagnetic in origin, belonging entirely to Thor. It was not a natural power, however, but some sort of deathly mutation.. he was not yet sure if it bode ill for his plans, however.

Sura moved his hands, as if holding a marionette. He attampted forced marched Thor out of this room, out of this cave, doing his best to keep his distance. If this barrier would interefere with Sura's control, he did not want to be near Thor when it did.

Thor moved slowly, as if his corpse resisted the effects of Sura's own bleak sorcery, and it took Sura a great deal of effort to move the corpse out of the cave without overstepping the barrier. The Lord of Sand wasn't sure what would happen if he triggered the defense within Thor, but it couldn't be beneficial.

Slowly, both Sura and Thor began to back out of the Tomb of Thunder.

Sura grew weary fast. He decided on a different route. He weaved his hands around, forming some kind of pattern in the air. He then closed his hand, as if grasping something. This pattern, this spell, was to reduce Thor into nothing but corpse dust. Sura had decided it was too big of a risk.

The spell was completed, and Sura felt the energy be directed through him via the Urge, slamming into Thor..

Who didn't turn to dust, but simply toppled over, dead. Advanced mummification techniques, some degree of anti-Necromantic investments..

Ah. That'll do.

Sura turned back into the room and looked inside the tomb where Thor once lay. His eyes searched for the sceptor.

There was no scepter within the room itself, and looking down inside the crypt there was nothing - save shriveled herbs and stacks of gold and jewelry, all emblazoned with the sign of the thunderbolt - inside of the tomb. No scepter.

Sura knew that it had to be here. It was rightfully his. It was in this room.. but hidden..

Sura closed his eyes and called upon any divination and sensory aid to lead him to his prize. It was rightfully his, afterall. He would demand it to show itself.

The Scepter fell into his hands. It was unlike what he had remembered: made of simple wood, without adornment of jewel, it seemed almost too plain, too mundane a thing. But no: the power flowed through it so freely. It could be nothing else. It needed only to be restored to its former glory...

From beneath the crypt there was a sound: a low, long murmur. The walls shook at the sound. What had been buried beneath the slab of stone? Was it - could it be - Thor himself, returned from the dead?