By Divinity Sweet Nectar: Chapter 1
It was one such 'petty warlord', a 'surviving official', whom had sent word to Chandriss, the Unmade that he had in his possession one small portion of Ancalia's ancient Crown Jewel collection.  His invitation offered her a viewing of such, with hint that among these, she might find something more than mundane wealth.

He, in return, would undoubtedly negotiate for something much more than the mundane wealth of such royal treasure: for what good were jewels and baubles against the hordes of misbegotten Uncreated, and the ravening husks brought forth by the Hollowing Plague?


And yet, Fate itself felt uncertain for The Unmade.
Something tugged at her ancient anxieties;  for was it not said in the burning lands of the Oasis that 'Fear is Survival'?

Yet, such a lure.
Such bait ... could it really be resisted.


Apparently not.
Accompanied by the Aikhtiar, Chandriss now stood atop a hillock looking down into the nearby lost-city of 'Verano' ... the remaining husk of one of Ancalia's mighty southern cities.
Chandriss remembered Verano:  a powerful stronghold, and a major trade stop between Ancalia and the Oasis States.  It was nestled in a small, fertile valley in the south west of the Sere Plains, along the thoroughfare north towards the Ghjeb River.

And so, in shock, she stared down at this hollow, skeleton of a city: laying now in crumbled ruins.
In its far, distant northern quarter (what had once been the fortified seat of its jantirar lord, she could see the merger, survival-based outpost of humanity, that had managed to make that quarter their home, and stronghold.


Then let us begin, mistress of the Earth, daughter of Fate.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:08, Wed 04 Sept 2019.

Destruction, creation, such was the cruel fate of all Gods and men.

Chandriss the Unmade stood upon her bastion, surveying the decrepit husk of what had once been a vibrant city.  The bastion was not the earth of the hillock, for such was not her way.  To walk in the foot steps of the Fatebound was to walk the path of primordial creation, to walk upon the very bones of the earth.   Not one of her people had set foot upon the tainted soil of this broken land since leaving the Northern desert of the Oasis States.  No, for Chandriss' shattered will had poured her power into the earth with each step she had taken, and the earth had heard her siren cry.

The bastion was many things, and many other things it was not.  At that moment it was a fortress of solid stone, twenty feet high along its battlements, and twice as wide and thick.  Its walls held no windows, no doors, no inner sanctums or stairs.  No cracks or mortared stone marred its surface, a single piece of carved granite whose outer face was so smooth as to almost shine in the light of the sun.  It was not the great Tahul Alqalea, the ever shifting fortress of stone that was the seat of Chandriss' power.  It was simply the bastion, the resting place of the feet of the Fatebound and her disciples.  Even so, the bastion was not without its grandeur.  Every inch of the battlements was carved with an intricate series of runes, and seemingly endless repetition of warding glyphs and prayers in the Oasin script. Yet like every bastion that had come before, and every one that would come after, it had the potential to be more.  It existed between states, ready to become the Tahul Alqalea should the need arise.

The bastion was also a wall, twenty feet high, that continued in an uninterrupted line for miles leading to the South.  Should any have scaled it, or dared to walk beside it, they would have found that it continued unbroken all the way back to the Norther desert of the Oasian border.  The battlements faced in both directions, and not once in those many miles was there a ladder or staircase breaking the smooth stone of the wall.  For the bastion was not to keep things out, indeed any traversing it's length would have found an archway large enough for a horse drawn carriage to pass through the wall every thousand paces.  No, the bastion was to prevent that which shambled upon the face of this broken land from walking the path of the Aikhtiar.

They stood about their mistress now, their eyes surveying the same devastation she did, though they held no memory of what it had been before.  Laughing Mahu, known as the Dreamspeaker for his arcane gifts, Kalhata the Siren of Flame, Sitre, poor twisted Sitre, and many others.  The full company of the Aikhtiar, walking upon the stone road that was the bastion for the many days and nights it had taken to get here.

"We go together."

Chandris decreed, and many of the Aikhtiar breathed a sigh of relief.  They had seen the horrors of this land shambling along as they had walked the bastion.  Many of them told themselves that they had no desire to see their mistress face such things alone.  Yet the truth of it was just as many of them did not dare to see her leave them to descend into that accursed place either.

"We n-n-need supplies, food and water.  Even if this has been a fool's errand, for that which w-w-we can offer them, they will not turn us away."

And with a skittering, broken step she began to walk, the bastion rising from the earth with a deep rumble each footfall along the path fate had chosen for her.  Each foot fall continuing to shape the unbroken wall that had led her all the way to this place, to the whisper and rumor of what lay below.  There was no doubt that the people of Verano heard her approach, and that many eyes looked up to see the great wall unfurling like a tongue in their direction.  Perhaps even, those with sharp enough eyes saw the figures moving down the newly made parapet, and wondered what new doom approached.

It would not matter, all would know her name soon.

Her gait was not steady, but where she faltered the stones of the bastion waited for her.  It wasn't weakness, it was something altogether more alien.  She seemed to flicker at times between this reality and the next, limbs and flesh skittering off into different lines of fate.  The simple brown robes she bore were at times both solid and not, sometimes showing the ruin of glyphs that sealed the fault lines of her flesh.  Still, she moved with purpose.  In only a few short minutes, she stood high on the bastion beside the gates of the town, the assembled Aikhtiar behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Tue 06 Aug 2019.

The Aikhtiar-duct, that trailed behind them the tail of a masonry comet, certainly heralded the arrival of a God!
For truth: there wasn't a magician, or sorcerer, or even theurgist, who could produce such grandiose effect.

And so, for certain, all eyes were upon the arrival of Chandriss as she approached.

As the ever expanding bastion carved its path towards the unmanned outer walls of Verano, small outcrops of riders could be seen dispatched from the 'Lords Quarter' to flank and perform reconnaissance the primordial creation ... while the small stronghold of humanity within reacted akin to the proverbial ants' nest.

As Chandriss walked her pathway in the sky towards the city, she would have to make a decision; for eventually her 'red carpet' would come to the outer walls of the decrepit city.
Would she end her celestial walkway there?  Bringing it to companionship with the battlements provided.
Or would she plow her own creation right through the cities remnant fortifications, taking herself into the heart of the city (and the 'Lords Quarter') itself.

Behind her, she could hear the dim susurration as her disciples prepared, and evoked, their own petty magics in service to their God.

By the time Chandriss came close to the squalid human stronghold, though, she could see what might be considered a 'welcoming committee' making themselves ready upon the parapets ahead.

Chandriss came to a stop ten feet from the parapets, well within the range of any baring a bow, or even a thrown spear.  The bastion below her rumbled to a halt as well, too high and too far for any from within the town to leap to it.  She stopped short of bringing it about herself protectively though, leaving the front end open faced so that those below had a clear look at her.  Her mottled and ravaged flesh could never have been human, looking more akin to patchwork stone and earth than skin.  Her eyes glowed with green and red fire, the same fire that burned at the constantly shifting glyph at her forehead.  She grasped in both hands a heavy tome taller than her shoulders were broad, and almost as wide.  It looked to be bound in black metal, with gemstones along its cover, back, and binding who shone with a brilliant light matching the flames that danced along the stones embedded into her own body.

"Be not ala-a-a-armed."

She said, the cage of glowing gems beneath her tattered robes flickering with emerald and ruby fire as the magic within them strained to hold her form onto this line of fate.  Her torso blurring momentarily as it threatened to breach its matrix and collapse in upon itself.  Yet the magic which bound her was far stronger than the challenge it faced, old and grounded even before her ascension.

"We come in peace, and at the request of y-y-your Lord, though he did not give us a name b-by which to c-c-call him.  I am the one called Chandriss the Fatebound, known to theurges of the great Pyramid of Neith as the Unmade, and Stonemother to t-t-the Sand Princes of the Red Desert.  These are the Aikhtiar, and they are to be accorded all the courtesy and respect that is their due.  Do we have your Lord's permission to enter h-his domain?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:57, Thu 08 Aug 2019.

The coagulation of humanity upon the parapets below looked up at the sight before them with a mixture of expressions.
These were men and women who’d spent the previous years fighting a desperate war against all manner of undead, otherworldly horrors and shambling monstrosities of various ilk.
They were were, for sure, a hardened people.

But none of them had ever seen a scene such as this.
While many weapons remained pointed squarely at Chandriss, just as many dipped their tips towards the ground, as their owners starred in awe, fear, and fearful awe.

Front and centre of the gathering was a small group; from wence stepped a woman who commanded some modicum of attention and respect.

Speaking assertively, neither shouting nor angry, but with voice enough to be heard from Chandriss’ lofty stand, she said,
“I am Annalise, daughter of Dregin.  And I hold power in this place.
It was at my command that you were invited, for I have heard much of the new God of Sand and Stone.
And it is under my aegis that your people shall be safe.
I invite you to join us, within Verano, that we two may speak ... for I seek opportunities to create safety for my own”.
And with that, she stepped aside, symbolically, and with a gesture, usher led Chandriss and her entourage into the stronghold.

Chandriss' eyes crackled for a moment with emerald fire as the woman spoke her name and lineage.  There was power in such things, and much that she could do with it.

"Well me, Annalise, daughter of Dregin, Aegiskeeper of Verano.  W-w-we accept your offer of hospitality, and all the responsibilities that come with it."

With a rumbling groan, an archway of stone extended from the bastion, reaching out like a great limb to delicately touch the tips of the fallen city's outer wall without disturbing or damaging it, and continuing all the way to the ground.  Chandriss descended the stone steps of the archway, her disciples following in her wake.  The instant the last of their feet touched the earth and stone of the city proper, the stone tongue withdrew, retreating back into the bastion proper and severing the connection between the two worlds.  With the same vibrating hum, the wall of the bastion appeared to vanish into itself, collapsing back into the earth until it had withdrawn all the way back to the square bastion atop the hillock.

Seemingly unaware of this monumental display of power, Chandriss spoke loudly and clearly so as to be heard over the sound.

"Shall we prepare the bastion for my people while we speak of opportunities, or have you prepared shelter and nourishment for them already?"

She arched an eyebrow, a strangely human gesture on her otherwise utterly alien face.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Thu 08 Aug 2019.