Oddly enough, no sooner did Sekmet vomit on Auriel's raiment then it disappeared immediately, leaving only immaculate fabric behind. It would seem that the perks of divinity include never having to do laundry.

Auriel stood gazing into the well, his divine eyesight picking up nuances of color and spectra he never realized even existed. It was more than merely seeing the shifting hues of purple and black, however. He felt the presence of the souls just under the surface of the barrier. Like flowing water under a skein of ice.

Just out of reach he could feel the collective weight of all the world's souls. All the hopes, dreams, regrets. The urges both base and noble. The gathered experience of an entire history, save the tiny sliver that was on their side.

After a long time, he spoke up. "We need not decide what to do with the well just yet. Let us take a moment to walk this new world before we decide." He turned to the nameless villager who had served as their guide. The man's name floated to his mind. A side-effect of new divinity, perhaps, but Auriel just...knew.

"Thank you for your counsel, Llewellyn. I have one further task to ask of you. We have all endured so much. I think it is appropriate to celebrate that now, at long last, we have peace. Let us have a feast to mark the dawning of this new era, and to remember all those who sacrificed everything to give us this new chance at life. Help us spread the word to all the survivors."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Wed 04 Jan 2017.

Maeve's stomach growls.  She thinks, with some curiosity, that she cannot recall the last time she ate-or slept, for that matter-but that it was certainly before they commenced fighting Vora. It feels as though it has been weeks, if not months.

As the only one of you that still actually *needs* to eat, I think it's a splendid idea.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 38):

"It shall be as you command," the man smiles, stumbling into a half-bow. "But, my lord? Er...how shall we address you, moving forward? You and the others? Are you truly...gods? Will you live among us?"

He regards Maeve as well.

"And how shall we regard you, who was offered a chance at divinity and shied away? In many ways, you are the most intriguing of them all."

The man regards Auriel and the others for a moment longer, absorbing any answer they might provide, then nods at the assorted villagers. Groups split off from the village square and fan out, gathering people who might not have been in attendance and beginning the preparations for a truly spectacular feast.

As there is no hall large enough to hold the entire village, an open field likely intended for town festivals is adapted to the purpose. Long trenchers and tables are procured or rapidly cobbled together, and firewood is swiftly gathered as the village springs to life in a flurry of activity.

Before the sun quite begins to slip beneath the virgin horizon, all has been made ready. There are places of honor set at a large table, which extends across the field perpendicular to the many parallel rows of "common" tables. There are enough seats at the large table for each of the gods, for Maeve, and for Llewellyn, with a final chair left empty.

"It's for all who are not here," the man explains. "And especially, for our fallen saviors."

When the time is right and the food is ready, then man raises a gnarled hand and a hush falls over the congregation.

"My friends," he begins, his voice carrying surprisingly well over the field. "My fellow survivors. We have all witnessed an ending none could have anticipated. Today, we have seen the Red One's prophecy fulfilled. And tonight, we will celebrate the promise of a better, brighter tomorrow."

Llewellyn turns toward the others at the table.

"We shall now listen raptly as they grace us with what I hope will be answers. We already know something about who they are and what they stand for from their ascension in the village square. But we do not know their hopes and dreams. Their vision for the future. Or our place within it. And so, I speak for the entire village when I say that we are at your disposal, and that you have our full attention."

Every eye falls upon the new pantheon, and the cooks and servers seem content to wait until some other signal is given before dispensing with the merriment.

[Private to Auriel: I don't recommend you plan to live among the mortals long-term.]

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 39):

Keef extends a hand and offers Maeve several small brown globs.

Koffee beans, covered in chocolate.  He says simply.  Not nutritious, but delightful.

Maeve prepares to introduce herself as "Major," but realizes abruptly that she is now the highest ranking military authority present, possibly in the world.

If her friends can become gods, then maybe a promotion for herself is in order.

"General Maev'rah Hassan, of the former Gaelian 5th Mounted," she says.  "But I should very much appreciate it if I were known to you simply as Maeve."


As the feast preparations get under way, Maeve keeps herself at a distance from her friends, instead choosing to assist with setup and attempting to speak with as many people as possible.  If she is to remain here, she wishes to be on good terms with them.

When it comes time for the feast, Maeve is unsure as to where she expected to sit but accepts the offered place at the high table with thanks.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Wed 04 Jan 2017.

Auriel rose to introduce himself after Maeve. "I am called Auriel. In the world that was, I was the champion of Ma'or, Lady of Light and Love. I fought in the hope that every day, when the sun rose, it would dawn upon a world a little bit better, a little bit kinder than the day before. And this is what I bring to this new realm: Hope. I will do all in my power to keep that dream alive, for all of you."

He stretches his arms out broadly to encompass the gathered masses. "And when dark times come - and come they will, someday - I will be there, a shield of light against the shadows."

And I am Lyriel, the newly-minted Goddess of Wisdom said, likewise standing. I was once a priestess of Tassada, before I realized that everything I thought I knew about justice was wrong. While justice still needs a champion, she must be one who stands for something more important than merely settling a score or punishing an arbitrary transgression. A judgement lacking Wisdom is worse than useless, and often more harmful than the original wrong. I uh...

Lyriel's face flushed, and she was suddenly self-conscious. Somehow it was vaguely comforting that she could still be embarrassed as a goddess. I hope to be able to live up to those ideals in your eyes.

After a moment's pause she give a small smile and light laugh, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat. And, I don't know if deities are allowed hobbies, but I also enjoy designing outfits. So if sewing, weaving, or tailoring is your thing, you'll always be welcome with me.

She remained standing amid the silence immediately following her short speech, not sure what to expect. In the meantime, her eyes scanned the crowd, desperately searching for a particular familiar face.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Wed 04 Jan 2017.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 44):

The villagers politely wait until their new pantheon has finished speaking before applauding, and then the festivities begin in earnest. Wine is poured, kegs are tapped, and plentiful food from every imaginable culture is brought out to the tables.

The feasting has begun.

Auriel looked around at the gathered supplies, and estimated that the villagers were prepared for not just a feast, but a multi-day festival. Far too much for the gathered people to realistically consume in even a week of festivities. An idea began to form in his mind.

On the edges of his concioussness, he could feel the existence of other survivors. Clustered, huddled, some near, some much farther.

He stretched a hand upward, and a beacon of light shot forth into the sky, exploding into a miniature sun high above their heads and washing away the dusk with the light of a new day.

"This is for ALL of us. No matter who you were before, we will begin this new era together, in celebration and remembrance."

And so he sent out the call to all the survivors in this new world.

Come, join us and be welcome

In reply to Auriel (msg # 46):

Auriel's pronouncement causes no end of astonishment among the villagers, who had assumed themselves to be alone in this remade world. They chat among themselves, speculating as to who or what might have also managed to survive. Heads of state, perhaps? Dignitaries? Other artisans for crafts currently underrepresented or considered to be lost entirely? The possibilities were tantalizing.

The first answers began to trickle in during the mid-morning hours the next day, as a humble caravan arrived with horses, wagons, oxen, and camels piled high with textiles and baskets of dried meats and exotic cheeses. The people were a mixture of races and ages, though there were few tearful reunions among this new group of survivors and those in the village proper. Among them was one of the PARTY's first allies, Chuck, who arrived leading a chariot pulled by six mighty horses -- all them named Droopy.

Others arrived later that afternoon, and still more over the next several days. They came in groups large and small, riding animals and carts from throughout the ruined world they left behind. Gnomes and dwarves, elves of all types, minotaurs and humans, even a smattering of extraplanar beings previously known as demons, devils, angels, and otherwise made their presence known.

Without the corrupting influence of their gods, their plane, or their government, even these latter few were able to coexist after a fashion -- for there was nothing to gain from fighting, and the circumstances binding them together in the present were more pressing than the ancient grievances of their past.

On the third day, the another face familiar to the PARTY arrived: a pregnant Faye, the former Flamebringer who had joined the Heartseekers on Edrahil's crusade through the Hells and subsequent resettlement in Lodriel. Captain Rhys, former warden of the Mendenberg prison system, arrived with her, bringing with him a cadre of armorers and weaponsmiths and shipwrights.

The fourth day saw the arrival of a battleworn and weary Rachel, who wore Choso's official chain of command wound around her left wrist and Ravn's darkened, powerless holy symbol of Cedrick around her neck. She led a contingent of survivors who almost exclusively hailed from Drynn, though there were demons, driders, dwarves, and even a few angels among them, as well. And somehow, she had Baldwin's faithful steward Filbert with her, too.

By the fifth day, the mood was considerably brighter than before, for the new arrivals had brought with them countless reunions among friends and family members, and sparked hope in long-dead eyes that perhaps those they had been separated from might be out there, after all.

This hope withered by the end of the sixth day, when no new arrivals came. Rumors swirled that those who now attended the festivities were indeed all that remained -- a bittersweet capstone to an already remarkable survival story.

This made the arrival of what would become the final group of refugees all the more welcomed when it finally occurred on the evening of the seventh day. The group contained a mix of northern and eastern races for the most part, including two who found a particularly warm welcome in the arms of the PARTY: Lyriel's sister, Alanna, and Boreas's sister, Kat. Like many of the others, they did not themselves know each other at the time, but had nonetheless managed to be among those saved from the End of All Things.

Though the festivities now spilled out into many adjacent fields, it was clear that the realm's total population could not be more than 5,000...a far cry from the global population before the apocalypse.

There are two days of feasting remaining, and all present are holding onto them as though they will never end.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:14, Thu 05 Jan 2017.

Maeve spends a joyous few days welcoming the newcomers, helping them to settle in, greeting old friends, and making new ones.  The weaponsmiths are of especial interest to her and the General spends a good deal of time chatting with them.

"Even though this new world is perfectly at peace for now, that won't last.  Someone is going to have to train a new generation of peacekeepers, for good or ill. That someone may as well be me," she explains to her friends if questioned.

On the seventh day, amind the family reunions, Maeve unannounced to anyone slips quietly away into a grove to be by herself.

Be at peace, Father, wherever you are.  I love you well.


She emerges from the grove several hours later as evening is beginning to fall, eyes red-rimmed but composed, and speaks to nobody for the remainder of the day.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Thu 05 Jan 2017.

Auriel floated through the celebrations like a warm breeze, mixing with the thronging crowds of refugees. Days after the festival, the survivors would realize that each and every one of them had a memory of the God of Hope appearing to them personally. Whether it was sharing a drink or a dance, sitting next to him and digging into the delicious spread of food, or shedding tears of mirth and sorrow in equal measure, there was not a single soul who was not touched by his presence. Few could remember exactly what it was he said, but all agreed that it was exactly what they needed to hear in that instant.

How he managed it was anybody's guess. Perhaps it was a measure of his newfound divinity, or maybe the passage of time wasn't quite the same. Indeed, for all the revelers time itself seemed to have little meaning, with entire nights passing in the blink of an eye, while those precious few moments of rosy morning light just before dawn each lasted for what felt like an eternity.

It was in one such rare moment that Auriel found himself alone. He sat with his back to the Well of Souls, knees pulled up to his chest and eyes shimmering. His breath shuddered, and he struggled to control his growing sense of despair and failure. To whom could the god of Hope turn when he himself felt none?

"What have I done?" he whispered, clutching his pendant to his heart. "I can't possibly uphold this responsibility for an eternity. Sooner or later, I'll fail them. I don't know how She did it. I..."

He clambered onto his knees, turning to gaze into the well.

"It should have been you here. I may have been Ma'or's First, but you were the soul of her church. I was the spark, but you were the reason Her light took hold in the world once again.

How can I pretend to be even half the person you were? This world was meant to be for you. I was fighting for a new dawn for you. But you're gone. The brightest light I've ever known is now just echoes and memories. Yet I remain."

"This isn't how it was supposed to end."

Tears slid down Auriel's face, dropping to ripple on the purple-black surface of the well.

"I can't do this alone. I can't do this without you."

He pressed the pendant to his lips, and then, slowly, let it slide through his fingers to disappear into the inky blackness of the void.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Thu 05 Jan 2017.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 49):

Keef spent most of the revels moving about the periphery inspecting, studying, watching.

From time to time a newcomer would catch his attention and be subject to a torrent of technical questions, musings and excited ramblings, but for the most part, Keef merely observed.  Certainly, anyone approaching him directly would get the same firehose of magical discussion, but Keef rarely initiated it himself.

At some point, in the middle of a long rant about metachemical makeups of aether torrent models, Auriel happens by.  Without looking over, Keef's hand finds its way to Auriel's shoulder:

It is good that there is Hope, he says simply, and leaves it at that.

In reply to Keef (msg # 50):

Auriel watched as the pendant fell deeper and deeper into the soul well's waters. The stagnant surface was smooth as glass, aside from the lingering ripples from his tears and, more recently, the pendant's descent.

He somehow remained aware of its passage as it fell, following it until it ultimately came to rest at the "bottom" -- the divine barrier shielding the contents of this well from the corruption to which the rest of creation succumbed.

Only then did he feel it, like a prickle at the base of his spine. Something about the barrier was...wrong. His expanded senses had no trouble piercing the opaque waters of the soul well as Auriel gently probed the membrane, seeking a source for the anomaly.

There.

The section of the barrier upon which the pendant had come to rest differed slightly from the rest. It was blurry. Clouded. Squinting, Auriel could make out the faint energy signature of...something. A soul?

The prickle left the base of his spine to run down its entire length. Was there a leak in the barrier? He looked more closely, but it was like peering through amber.

After careful study, Auriel concluded that this particular soul had somehow become trapped between the barriers -- part of it had made it through, and part of it had become stuck inside the barrier itself. Fortunately, it didn't seem to be touching the corrupted mass on the other side.

Likely, this soul could still be saved.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:30, Fri 06 Jan 2017.

Auriel perched on the rim of the well, ready to dive - consequences be damned - but before he could leap the pendant began to shimmer with a golden light that filtered up faintly from the bottom of the well. The soft luminescence continued to wax, pulsing gently in time with his own heart. The hauntingly beautiful chimes of his childhood lullaby echoed from an impossible distance, as if from other side of the barrier.

He watched, utterly entranced, as the lost soul responded to the light and music. It strained towards the slowly descending locket, fluttering like a trapped bird. Even from the depths Auriel could feel its yearning, and the pureness of it took his breath away.

The music rose to a glorious crescendo, and with a final desperate tug the soul broke free, streaking upward toward the pendant. It impacted the locket with an explosion of light and roared upward towards the surface of the well, a cosmic meteor gathering speed until even Auriel’s divine eyes watered to look at it.

The very moment the soul hit the surface of the well, the rising sun broke above the line of the horizon, and bathed the world in dawn’s light. Auriel blinked, dazzled, and felt a sudden weight pressed against him.

When his vision cleared, he found himself holding Selena, former High Priestess of Ma’or, clad in a simple white robe. The pendant hung shimmering around her neck, humming with a happy glow.

Selena’s gasped she found herself infused with renewed life. Her sapphire-blue eyes fluttered open, revealing the shocked features of Auriel, and she nearly cried out for the joy of what it meant.

"Well now, I hope you didn’t think something as trivial as the end of the world would rid you of me,” she said with a mischievous grin, "because if so, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint."

Laughing brightly, she drew him in for a kiss as she clambered to her feet. As their lips parted, she spun around in a slow circle in his arms, taking in every breathtaking detail of the new world, drenched in the light of the onrushing day.

"You did it! You really did it! It’s so much more beautiful than I ever dared to imagine!"

She turned back to Auriel, taking his hands in hers as she studied the unspoken question written plainly on his face.

How?!

Her gaze fell and her expression softened. "Truth be told, I never expected to make it to the other side in the end. With so many people to bring over, and knowing there wasn’t time to make it to even a tenth of them, I…"

Selena’s voice broke at the memory of all those she was unable to save. "At the very end, when everything was coming undone...I was on this side. And I wanted to stay here, to wait for you. But I knew that if there was a chance I could have saved even one more person...even if it cost me my own life...and I didn’t...that knowledge would have haunted me until my dying day. And so…"

The former priestess took a shuddering breath. "The Lady had other ideas. As the portal collapsed, your mother, Meira, she pushed me back into it. And Ma’or… managed to preserve my soul, though my body was destroyed."

She looked back to Auriel. "Even at the very end, her final act was one of hope, and love. Hope that you were victorious, and that your love would be enough to break me free."

As if to underscore her tale, the music began to fade away, receding back below the black waters. The music grew fainter and fainter, until from beyond the barrier the last few notes echoed sadly, the coda an unmistakable final farewell.

Selena smiled upward at Auriel through her tears. "And she was right. Here you are, and here I am."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:51, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Auriel simply pulled Selena in tightly to him, terrified that if he let go, she would fade away with the music. It felt like an eternity before he could bring himself to speak, and when he finally could, the best he was able to manage was to repeat her, dumbly.

"You’re here. You’re really here. I thought this world had lost you. I thought I had lost you." He clung to her, feeling her familiar warmth, breathing her familiar scent, to ensure himself that he wasn’t simply deluding himself into believing in miracles.

After a time, he felt sure enough of her corporeality to let her go. "Selena, while you were...gone...we each had to make a decision. This new world needed new gods to ensure its stability, and I was one of those who took on that mantle. But I can’t bear the thought of-"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 01:27, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Selena shushed him, putting her finger to his lips. "I know. I heard you, heard everything, when you were kneeling at the well. It was your voice, after all, that brought me back. And my answer...is yes." She drew back from the fledgling god of hope, though she didn’t let go of his hands. "And I give you that answer in full knowledge of all it entails. If you must face the weight of eternity, then let me at least ensure you don’t have to do so alone. Besides,” she flashed him a playful grin, "Somebody has to stick around to remind you all that the best solution to problems isn’t always to hit them on the head.”
This message was last edited by the player at 17:38, Wed 11 Jan 2017.

Auriel grinned back. "Together then. Now and forever." He leaned in to kiss Selena deeply, and this time, when his lips met hers it was with the spark of divinity arcing between them, binding them together. Their kiss lasted as long as it took to transfer a measure of his divine essence to her being, and when they broke apart, it was as equals.

Smiling, they took each other by the hand to return to the festival to announce that the God of Hope would be joined by the Goddess of Love, and that together, they were Light.

Lyriel stood at the edge of the gathering as Auriel and Selena made their announcement. Though she supposed in a different life it might have been awkward, when she looked at the two of them together, she felt only happiness. Perhaps the end of the world has a way of putting everything into perspective, she thought idly.

Shortly afterwards, Lyriel managed to pull Selena aside. I just wanted to say how happy I am that you’re here. And I mean that truly. Your absence in this world would have been sorely felt.

To Lyriel’s surprise, Selena replied by rushing in to wrap her in a friendly hug. "That means a great deal to hear it from you. And for what it’s worth, the feeling is mutual. I know we’ve had our ideological differences, but this world needs you here." She shoots a glance at the other deities joking in the corner with Maeve. "Besides, with Maeve electing to remain mortal, I’d have never forgiven myself if I had known I was condemning you to an eternity of putting up with the boys all on your own."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:29, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Gratified that she would not be doomed to facing a testosterone-fueled eternity as the only goddess, Lyriel wandered off to join the rest of the party, but never once stopped scanning the crowd.

Her bittersweet happiness turned to pure joy, however, on the fourth day, when Alanna arrived in the town.

The Goddess of Wisdom nearly broke down crying for her happiness. Thank the gods Alanna! she exclaimed, glossing over the irony of her choice of words, I had nearly given up hope! How did you make it through? And why did you come so late?! You’ve missed half the party already! Come on, everybody else has had a four-day head start, let’s get you caught up!

Lyriel led Alanna through to the banquet table, chattering on as only an older sister can.

And as they ate and drank together, Lyriel realized that, for the first time since Eldric’s death, she was truly, genuinely happy.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:50, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

Maeve shares a long look of commiseration with Boreas, glad that it's not *her* who has to deal with this for all eternity.

Boreas smiles back at Maeve, sharing the same look they had shared over the course of their adventures whenever Auriel got a little too... Auriel.

I'm not going to be one for rules and decrees, much less for self-promotion, but I do have one decree to make.  Every year on this day, all the people of the world will have a grand celebration.  I will ensure that it's a beautiful day.  This celebration will be called a PARTY, in honor of those who remade the world, and especially of those who chose not to.

He looks around, taking a deep breath.

Now, let's have a little variety in this new world, shall we?

He cracks is knuckles, plunging both hands into the ground and grabbing a handful of grass.  He quickly whips it like a rug, and a light ripple cascades out from that point.  It grows in magnitude until, far off in the distance, mountains erupt on the horizon.

He takes another deep breath.  Boreas reaches into his bag of holding, which had popped back into existence moments before his hand entered it.  He pulls out five small pouches of seeds, found long ago in a vault somewhere.  Throwing the seeds into the air, he blows out a mighty gale, scattering them across the land.  Thousands of different plants spring up, some nearby, others far off in the distance.

And finally, someone to accompany these freed souls in their new lives.

Boreas nods, and birds fly out of hundreds of treetops.  The sounds of animals can be heard all around.  Off in the distance, a small flock of griffins approaches, looking for their new friend, Sekhmet.  Boreas plans to continue spreading life around the world, but for now, it's time for a PARTY.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:36, Tue 10 Jan 2017.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 61):

The festivities continue for far longer than is reasonable, but even in this brave new world, all good things must eventually come to an end.

An air of excitement and renewal permeates the atmosphere as the PARTY reaches its conclusion. While only a scant few enjoyed unlikely reunions with close friends or family members, most found kindred spirits over the course of the feast -- after all, the rabble contains remnants of every race, nationality, and creed.

Wistful nostalgia transforms into an almost tangible sense of purpose as each group of survivors realizes -- for perhaps the first time -- that they are not as alone as they  thought. Talk slowly turns to the logistics of rebuilding, and while disagreements arise in terms of whether to emulate the lost cities or improve upon them, the tone is generally civil.

The presence of the gods may have something to do with that.

Informal leadership arises among the nascent factions over the course of the PARTY, which becomes useful when it becomes time for all to go their separate ways.

Despite her protestations, the newly minted Major General Maeve Hassan assumes an almost cult-like following among not only the surviving Gaelians, but also from veterans, artisans, and craftsmen of all stripes. In a fitting tribute to the Gaelian philosophy, hers is the most diverse contingent. Together, they lay claim to the village in which the PARTY was held. This measure passes without opposition -- after all, who better to guard the access point to the Soul Well than one who had refused its power? The village has no name as yet, but it is among the first action items on the docket for after the PARTY ends. Maeve knows she'll have a fight on her hands to prevent them from calling it Hassan.

Though Rachel's command of Drynn's forces was apparent from her very arrival, her inspired machinations over the course of the PARTY quickly elevated her from "Acting Tyrant of the New Dominion" to a title that would have made Choso proud: Regent of the Drynnian Republic. Humans, dark elves, driders, demons, and minotaur made up the bulk of her forces by the time the group declared its intention to depart toward a distant village to the south, where the climate would perhaps be closer to what they were used to.

While small pockets of dark elves, highborn, and wildkin maintained their animosity toward the others, the bulk found that circumstances made further isolation impractical and unecessary. Instead, the three feyic races plotted out the creation of a single city -- working title: Fey'driel -- which would be governed by a triumvirate council made up of one dark elf, one highborn, and one wildkin. This group planned to depart for a village to the west, where the forests looked the thickest.

There were, of course, no shortage of those whose loyalties were to the Shining Empire among the survivors, finding common ground mostly with other humans, gnomes, dwarves, angels, and a smattering of highborn and minotaur. Having reforged themselves as the Imperium, this group planned to head northward toward the mountains.

Finally, those with more tribal instincts -- mostly minotaur from Grelklin along with faeries, treefolk, and a smattering of humans and wildkin -- found an odd kinship that grew into a passionate determination to protect what natural beauty remained. While they still lacked a formal command structure, the had agreed to two things: that they would seek their fortune to the east, and that their nation would be called Neidín.

After all such arrangements have been made and announced, the congregation gathers as one for a final proclamation and sendoff from their new pantheon.

"One order of business remains," the pantheon expresses as one. "The Well of Souls must be safeguarded. We have determined that best way of doing so is to set it apart from the rest of this world."

A prismatic column of light extends from the well's waters, widening until the entire pool is completely obscured. The light dims, then fades entirely, leaving behind an opaque column of glass-like material that encompasses the Well of Souls completely. The column shimmers once, from top to bottom, and vanishes -- leaving behind a fountain for the village square that is completely mundane aside from a gentle burbling.

Their words then grow more somber.

"As its custodians, we too must be set apart. But though you will not see us with your eyes, know that you will feel us in your hearts. We will hear your prayers, and we will answer them as best we are able."

Time slows down as each god and goddess says their goodbyes to the mortals gathered around them. Beautiful sentiments are exchanged, with the longest hugs and firmest handshakes being reserved for Maeve herself.

When this bittersweet task has been completed, time returns to its normal cadence -- it seems only a heartbeat has passed between their previous announcement and the next.

"We leave you with one final commandment: Be excellent to one another."

With that, the pantheon is surrounded by a prismatic swirl of light that glows brighter and brighter until even the stoutest among the villagers must shield their eyes from the glare.

A moment later, the light is gone -- taking the pantheon with it.

***

The morning sky opened up in the scenic splendor often alluded to in tales of yore.  The autumn air was crisp and clean, and a slight hint of apples wafted over it from the nearby orchard.

Above all, life went on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:43, Wed 11 Jan 2017.