Consciousness first returns in the form of awareness.

Awareness that your eyes are closed, for example.

Awareness that your are laying with your back pressed against...something. Something hard, smooth, and not at all comfortable.

Of a gentle breeze caressing your hair, and of the carefree song of distant birds.

Of a light shining over your face, unseen but betrayed by the ruddy hue threatening to overtake the comfortable, velvety blackness of the private world that exists behind your eyelids.

Of a damp, surprisingly heavy lump sitting on your chest. It hops off the moment it's noticed, though the action is somehow tinged with apathy.

The memories come next.

They come as a trickle at first -- names, faces, places -- before transforming into a cascading waterfall of emotions, knowledge, and experiences that threatens to overwhelm the senses you've only just managed to regain.

Your eyes snap open as you gasp reflexively, and painfully bright light blinds you: Sunlight, set against a cerulean sky.

***

Boreas, Keef, Auriel, Lyriel, Maeve, and Finwe awaken at roughly the same time, rising painfully to their feet in order to survey that world around them. Sehkmet preens herself nearby, with Chubbs seated impassively upon her flank.

The PARTY's weapons, armor, and equipment are notably absent, replaced by homespun robes and simple sandals. Those with arcane or divine talents still find themselves unable to make use of them. Notably, Boreas's prismatic eye is missing, replaced by a normal eye (though its bright green iris is at odds with the hue of its twin).

The PARTY finds itself upon a large stone slab that looks like the ground of a cave, though there is neither roof nor walls to support the image. Grassland extends from the slab in all directions, becoming wild and overgrown as it extends toward light forest to the east, west, and north.

A mountain range can be seen off to north, beyond the woods, and the PARTY becomes aware that they are nestled atop a moderately sized hill, which provides ample vision into the lowlands extending southward, opposite the mountains.

Thatched roofs can bee see among the lowlands, and the PARTY soon discerns an entire village punctuated with fenced-off fields and well-worn dirt roads.

If its population is aware of the PARTY's presence, they hide it well.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:50, Thu 22 Dec 2016.

Auriel struggles to his feet, wincing as feeling returns to his limbs. He stretches out his hand, gathering his will to summon his faithful steed, but found himself unable to draw on his connection to the divine.

Wistfully, he lowered his hand, feeling a sense of loss.

Unsure whether he was alive or dead, he decided that either way, it was a good idea to meet the neighbors, and thus set off for the village.

Maeve rises shakily, taking in her new surroundings, the P.A.R.T.Y's new duds, and Boreas' new eye with no small amount of bewilderment.  She feels naked to be without a weapon for the first time in. . .well, as long as she can remember.

"Are. . .are we dead?" she asks of everyone and nobody, giving herself a sharp pinch.  If they are, she thinks, this afterlife has nothing on the Gaelian version, with its 72 buff young men who fan her with palm leaves and provide her with iced coffee drinks for all eternity.

Regardless, there are certainly no answers to be found standing here.  She decides to follow Auriel to the town.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 2):

I.. no... not in the corporeal sense...

Keef spends a moment spinning around and waving his hands experimentally.

But yes.  Very much so.

Having seen much more impressive newly-created expanses of realm before, Chubbs is not intrigued enough to bother opening his eyes.

In reply to Keef (msg # 4):

Finwe follows the others, as mystified about their present circumstances as the rest.

"How can this place exist?" he murmurs. "And who are these people?"

***

Any who wish it can easily travel down the worn path, passing over the rolling meadows before entering the town itself. The villagers are nowhere to be seen as you approach.

There are little trapping or adornments to be seen among the simple houses, and the road eventually leads the PARTY to the town square. A communal barn sits off to one side of the square, with a stable situated nearby. The road continues beyond the square toward what appears to be stalls for a blacksmith, tanner, and miller.

On the other side of the square, a single building seems to serve as both the town's hall and courthouse, and while there is no jail to be seen, there are four sets of stocks situated at equal intervals around the square itself.

A pool of water sits in the center of the square -- perhaps once a fountain, though its deep blue waters now lie stagnant.

The last building in the square is a humble wooden structure with the word SHRINE carved into the facade above the entryway.

"Ah. The sleepers have awakened."

A man wearing simple clothing steps forth from the town hall, the first person you've seen since entering the village proper, and walks over toward them.

"You are welcome here, and have nothing to fear from us, friends," he begins, looking at them doubtfully. "But you have arrived under inauspicious portents. In a gout of blackened flames, as it were."

He gestures to the stagnant pool.

"In this very spot, from this shallow pool, you burst to the surface as though you'd been beneath it all along. Some swear the sky winked out the moment you arrived, unable to abide your presence."

The man breathes deeply and gestures to the beautiful, cloudless sky.

"But even the skeptics have to admit that it seems to have forgiven you."

He remains quiet for a time, looking at each member of the PARTY in turn.

"They said we would be spared, before they left," he continues, his voice soft. "I know that you have come from...outside. From beyond. And I am hoping against hope that you have not come to correct the oversight that is our existence."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:22, Thu 22 Dec 2016.

And what existence is that, exactly? Lyriel asks curiously. Where are we?

Boreas says nothing, taking everything in.  He nods.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 7):

"That's a more complicated question than you realize," the man replies. "In fact, it is one that we were hoping you could answer for us."

He looks carefully at the PARTY.

"Perhaps I made some assumptions I shouldn't have when you first arrived, naked and steaming, in our village square. Allow me to fill you in."

"Everyone here -- with the exception of you -- was brought here before...the end. I was there, as were the others, when the oceans turned to churning lava. When the heavens and the hells and everything in between them merged into a patchwork of chaos and destruction. I saw the stars wink out, and I feared the worst."

His expression is both grim and haunted, his eyes alight with the look of a person who has loved and lost.

"But I was saved. All of us were, though by different hands. Some mention a blonde-haired woman, who rode upon an enormous wildcat with a saddle large enough to handle several passengers at once."

"Others say they were brought here by a fair-skinned woman whose eyes looked always on the brink of tears. Or by a raven-haired man with a lined but youthful face. Or a dirty-blonde-haired woman with glasses and eagle-like wings."

"I myself was cowering in the ruins of my home, cradling the body of my wife, when a man with fiery red hair and a powerful expression took me by the shoulder and...moved me."

"This land was scoured when we arrived. Burned, scorched, and ruined, though overgrown with natural resources. Everything except for this pool, which served as the entrance and exit point for those who continued to bolster our ranks. We could see the horrible nightmare in the sky, but it seemed distant and indistinct. Dreamlike. Held at bay. Slowed."

"We were told that we had nothing to fear, so long as none among us touched the pool's waters. And to a man, we obeyed this command. We obey it still."

"We prayed our respite would endure, and set to work building a life for ourselves here. And every day, more people would arrive village. If there was rhyme or reason, we could not discern it. We have here a mixture of humans and elves of all types. There are even dwarves, gnomes, and minotaur. Citizens from all countries, in roughly equal numbers, and though there are those who once served the gods here, none now do. We...simply cannot praise a pantheon that could allow such destruction."

The man stares at the stagnant pool wistfully.

"It couldn't last, no matter how much differently the red-haired man had managed to make time move here relative to the rest of creation. We knew that whatever horror has been unleashed upon our home would eventually exact its toll on us, as well."

"One day, the raven-haired man stopped coming. Then, the blonde returned with terrible burns across her face and body, leaning upon the shoulder of the man she had brought here for support. The next time she entered the pool, her wildcat returned without her, carrying three survivors on its back. It stayed just long enough to deposit them, then bolted back through the waters with a fearsome roar. We never saw it or its mistress again."

"The woman with the sad eyes was the next to go, but she told as as much before stepping through the pool. 'I will spend what moments remain easing the pain of my people,' she said. The winged one soon followed."

"Eventually, the fiery-haired man -- who seemed to be their coordinator, if not their leader -- was the only one making deliveries. He made several a day, looking increasingly haggard each time. Tensions rose, and the stocks were built. We were grateful for the time we'd been given, but it looked as though there was no time left to be purchased."

"One day, when the tear in the sky was as bright and terrible as we had ever seen it, the fiery-haired man gathered the village together at this very spot. He said he had done all he could do, and that our fate was now outside his hands."

The man paused, wiping an errant tear from his eyes.

"He... knew he was going to die. They all did, though they never said it. They didn't even tell us their names, as though such a trifling thing was inconsequential to their work. But they saved us all."

He looks up from the pool and addresses the PARTY directly.

"The last thing that man said to us, with the whole village gathered, was this. That the last day had arrived. That his spell could ward off the apocalypse no longer. He urged us to spend the day at leisure, and told us that if morning should somehow dawn the following day, we would have well and truly survived."

"If that were to occur, he cautioned, we should expect to be visited by a small group of new survivors not long afterward. They would be the last to ever arrive, and after them, no more would follow."

The man lowers his voice.

"He said they were mighty in word and deed. That they wielded power beyond mortal ken. That with the gods dead, they would be compelled to up the mantle of balance. He emphasized that word above all others. And he finished with a single request: That we tell that group, if they should ever arrive, that they should 'drink from the soul well'."

He looks hopefully at the PARTY, and you can see that the village square is now packed with villagers who had trickled in during the man's story.

"He swore the newcomers -- the last survivors -- would know what we meant. He said they would know what to do next."

"The man -- the Red One -- stayed on this side after that, channeling powerful magics at the pool without respite. After urging us to take our leisure, we could see that his plan for the Last Day involving withering away before our eyes. But as he maintained the pool, additional survivors kept coming through."

"No one slept that night. How could you, when it could be your last? And we all vividly recall the moment when, in the dead of the night, the Red One cried out. It was a primal sound I hope to never again hear, filled with rage and anguish and pain...but also determination. A hint of triumph."

"The pool's churning waters surged with an unbelievable light, which channeled backward into the Red One with such fury that most averted their eyes at the sight of it. And after that, silence reigned. The pool had become as still and stagnant as you now see it, and the Red One lay dead nearby. He is interred in the Shrine, which we erected as a memorial to him and to his allies, who sacrificed themselves for our survival."

The villagers are utterly silent, gauging the PARTY's reaction to the tale...and anxiously awaiting the answer to their savior's riddle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:59, Fri 06 Jan 2017.

Auriel's face grew pale as the stranger told his tale. Every sentence drove the enormity of the loss home. By the end, tears were openly streaming down his face.

Choso, Cassie, Mahmout, Liora...Selena. They can't be gone. I refuse to accept that.

When the talk turns to the soul well, his face grew darker still. "Aye. We know of what he speaks, but I'm not convinced he fully understood what he asks of us. Did he say anything else?"

In reply to Auriel (msg # 9):

"I cannot speak to whether or not he fully understood the request he was making," the man replies, scratching his cheek absently. "He seemed to know what he was doing, though. They all did. They had a sense of purpose about them."

He frowns, lost in thought.

"The only other thing he mentioned was something about you and the others -- if you were to arrive -- needing to 'give the people something to believe in'. Does that provide any clarity?"

"It does. On multiple levels."

Auriel looks off into the distance, his golden eyes unfocused. "There's no time to lose then. Is this the well of souls he referred to?" he asks, pointing at the well, "Or is there another, untainted font."

In reply to Auriel (msg # 11):

"This is the only pool of this size and hue in the realm," the man says after a moment. "There is a river, which is sourced from the mountains and runs past the fields before emptying out into a bay, but otherwise we have found no other water."

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

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

In reply to Auriel (msg # 13):

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

[Auriel gains a class: Godling]

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

To the soul well.

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

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

It reeks of life.

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

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

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

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

They create a message:



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

Auriel gravely relays the message to his gathered companions.

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

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

Lyriel drinks from the well.

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 16):

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

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

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

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

In reply to DM (msg # 17):

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

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

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

She looks around helplessly.

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

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 19):

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

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

In reply to Keef (msg # 20):

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

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

He smiles sadly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her tears fade gradually to sniffles.

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

Maeve pulls a face.

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

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 22):

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

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

In reply to DM (msg # 23):

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chubbs sighs again.  And waits patiently.

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

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

He looks at Auriel and Lyriel, then at Maeve.

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

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

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

Goodbye

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

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

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

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

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

In reply to Keef (msg # 24):

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

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

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

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

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

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

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 26):

Keef crosses his arms over his chest.

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

We are truly what we make of ourselves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watches Keef drink, taking on the burden.

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

He looks at Finwe as he drinks from the well.

You are also here.

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

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

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

Boreas nods.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 28):

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

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

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

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

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

He turns to Lyriel, looking desperate.

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

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

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

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

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

Finwe turns to his peers.

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

In reply to DM (msg # 29):

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Auriel smiled at his friends.

"I shall take on the mantle of Hope."

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

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

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

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

She smiles wanly through her tears.

"I was just the muscle, really."

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

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

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

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

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 34):

Keef shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.