In the beginning, there was only the cruelty of the world, and your hunger to be Believed In. You have forgotten how to even notice the passage of time, but you have been hoarding your meager reserve of Belief in the hopes of someday finding a Believer, and convincing them to worship you.

It has been a very long time since you've even heard of any Believers. After the Dead Thing In The Sky opened its Eye, there have only been the Dead Things.

Who are you? Where do you live, in this post-apocalyptic world that has long ago been reclaimed by nature?

Are there other spirits you trust not to eat you? Are you part of a hierarchy of spirits, like the Dew Drop kami, who pay fealty to the Blades of Grass kami, who themselves are protected by the Third Ledge of the Valley Where 5 Mountains Meet? Or do you wander the world alone and defiant, like many of the Restless Dead Kami?

OOC: Your answers will shape the world we play in. You may also decide, at this time, whether your small god lives {alongside, near, close to, far from, or very distantly} from the other PCs.

Salt.

Gnawing hunger, an emptiness of Believers, waxing and waning like candles.

Candles? Flickering flames in their hundreds, a flash of the Dying Man and the Man of Many Places. Were they Believers, when the Song That Is Forgotten was sung?

Crescendo, a swell of sound. Is it the Song?

Disappointment, it is but the waves on the shore, where the river meets the ocean, the crash of surf upon the sand that leads to the last remnants of the Road Without a Name, its number faded and its signs long since flaked to rust.

Salt? Tears, or sea spray? Or blood, perhaps, close by where the Shark hunts in the shallows further out.

Lingering on the shore, a silvery glint in the river caught its' attention. Another memory? Or fish sunning in the slow water by the bank, more likely.

It seemed the memories were thick and turgid, like tar and honey, today. Perhaps it was time to speak to Father of Otters, who held them for it and protected them from the restless ones? If he could not be found, then he would return here, where shore and sea and road and river met, and squat comfortably and let them flow over it.

Prologue

Ninth Augmented Fifth

Down the Road With No Name and into the mouth of the snake built out of the bones of a mountain, Ninth Augmented Fifth trudges towards the abode of Father of Otters with its thick, sound-dampening mud walls, lest the ears of the Dead Things that combed the shoreline heard what goes on here.

Father of Otters was one of the more powerful Small Gods, somehow, for all his lack of Followers, and as a result, his dwelling place was one of the safer places that Ninth Augmented Fifth knew of.

As the Memory turns a corner in the labyrinthine passages leading to Father of Otters abode, you catch sight of one of the Dead Things up ahead. It's a skeleton, the most common type of necromancy, though it's seven eyes do not emit their usual red glow. As you watch, it closes a gate made of ancient necromantic bars behind it.

As a small god, you find the touch of unsanctified necromancy to be extremely unpleasant.

You could spend some of your precious Belief to open the barred door, but who knows when you'll ever get the chance to gain more?

You could find an alternate route inside this labyrinth, though with no Followers and so little Belief, holding onto the mental map needed to navigate may be tricky.

As a Memory Spirit, you could push through the necromantic barrier, though some of your (lower-case-M) memories might shed off of you in the process, and you would need to remember to pick them up again on the way out.

As you debate this, you can feel the approach of others.

---

Everybody Else

Conveniently, so far everybody's suggested starting locations all mesh well, so please find a way to add yourself to the current scene

Water, Air, Salt, blood, Fear.

Water? It's still there and Im still in it. The oceans and coasts look much different from when the last believers still drew breath. The depths have gained more secrets and mysteries though. I do not venture there since my death. There is always a bigger fish after all.

Air, the faintest memories are of transitory air, short breaches into the world above. Later, after the decent into the deep, I could swin through air as it was water. There was a time i shared the air with the sky whales of the believers, but none of those are left. It holds less for me now but who knows what the future holds.

Salt, can't get enough of it, don't know how the river and lake spirits do it.

Blood! The blood is constant. Predation is one of the few truly persistent attributes of life and its sweet taste draws me from miles away. I used to have blood of my own and spill the blood of others, now I am satisfied cruising through a cloud of it.

Fear.....fear is the addiction I am missing. They used to come, see us chasing the seals, and I could feel it whenever the believers got deeper than their waist. The fear intensified whenever my kin would break the surface with their fins. I guess that is why the coasts call to me, long after the fear ran out. There was a time, around summer every year when a delicious wave of fear traveled around the world even to believers on land. Oh it was ecstacy. I never understood it, but we could tell it was coming when the glowing boxes called started saying "Shark week."

Iridiana looked at the gate as it was being closed by a necromantic construct. the scene felt familiar to her, though she couldn't quite figure out whether it was a good or a bad thing, lacking the memories to give her context on what good or bad was supposed to be. But she knew she had passed through a gate once.

Would entering that gate bring her back to a familiar place? But then, since she had crossed a gate into these unfamiliar lands where she remembered nothing, would it be wise to cross back without knowing what had made her cross to begin with? And that was assuming this was even the same gate. She thought it was though, since she had passed through one and this was the first gate left open that she had come across in these lands.

There was much to think about, though with her own memories hidden from herself and her knowledge being restricted to her name being Iridiana without also letting her know why her name would be Iridiana, there was only so much thinking she could do. But maybe the thinking would trick her mind into recalling a memory? It was worth a try, and so she thought about the various things she saw around her, not really seeking anything in particular, but simply trying to get better at thinking by thinking, the way one would improve by performing a skill.

Grootwithaai smelled something stirring.

He was cruising the shores, this one he named the gulf of the infant bones when he caught a wiff of what could be fear.

Curious, he broke the waters surface and was mildly annoyed at the skeletons on the shore.

He dove back down, sped towards the surface and breached into the air, adding a bit of speed to avoid the shambling bones below. Cruising the sky, he followed the scent towards a tunnel, not something he was usually drawn towards.

Soon he finds himself in the company of two other small gods, he observes them and determines they are too strong to consider prey.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Sat 12 Feb 2022.

Prologue

Grootwithaai

The Spirit-Shark briefly recalls an image of the sky whales, magnificent creatures yoked by the Followers of some name-flayed land god, the crude howdah necro-grafted onto their bodies, spikes driven into their shorn tusks to provide "steering."

These thoughts are quickly overwhelmed by the pangs of addiction withdrawal as the shark recalled feasting on the Terror ripe within the Believers during Shark Week.

His incorporeal form suddenly wracked with the ugly hunger, Grootwithaai instinctively retreats to a place of safety, diving up through the air (so much more vacant than the sea) and into the half-sunken corpse of a sky whale, amidst the shores near the ruins, that once was the town, that used to be city, that was the heart of a nation that was called Salvanas That Was.

The salt-bleached bones and hammered alloys of the sky-whale corpse holds some ancient memory of grace and safety for the shark, and for some reason the ancient necromancy of its walls do not bother the simple-minded shark.

Soon reassured by his special place, Gootwithai sails through The Gulf of The Infant Bones and joins the others.


Discovery: Ruins, multiple. Ruins may hold secrets that can be acquired by crafty small god. Most ruins, however, are made from necromancy, which is debilitating for a small god to come in direct contact with, making it hard to mine the place for the good stuff.

---

Ninth Augmented Fifth, Iridiana, and Grootwithaai

As you move closer together, the presence of multiple Small Gods in a small area increases the intelligence and divinity of all the adjacent small gods, sufficient for you all to have a slightly greater understanding of where you are and how to navigate the space.

Discovery: Ruins, The Sewers of Salvanas That Was. Ruins may hold secrets that can be acquired by crafty small god. Most ruins, however, are made from necromancy, which is debilitating for a small god to come in direct contact with, making it hard to mine the place for the good stuff. These sewers are wide enough that you can hover through without touching the edges, and the detritus in the central channel is safe to walk on, being made of natural processes.

---

Iridiana

As Ninth Augmented Fifth turns the corner while Iridiana watches a gate close, the sharp edged stone blocks around the oni are a reassuring difference between this damp, suffocating place, and the one that haunts your nightmares. The gate is very similar though, and you wonder if somewhere out there is a gate with a shard of your own memories lying nearby, scraped off you as your struggled through.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:05, Sat 12 Feb 2022.

Iridiana took a deep breath, or at least simulated the concept of one given that she had no lungs to breathe with, nor a body that needed it, but whatever made up her substance felt a bit of relief at the muscle memory of the gesture, and so she allowed it even if the air passed straight through her to emerge from her back. The stones were different from the gate of her memory, but since it had been open until recently, maybe something else had passed through it recently.

She decided to check it out. If one passed through this gate in the same way she had passed through hers, then maybe in the same way she had left memories behind in the passing, whatever had crossed here would have left memories behind as well, and when her mind was as blank a canvas as she could remember it being, any memory was a pleasant addition. Maybe if she could find the original owner later, she could trade them for some of her own that the Other might have come across if they too had stumbled across a gate?

Careful not to get too close to the skeleton, for her Self did not trust it, she imagined herself creeping closer to the gate, and in doing so found herself drawing closer. She didn't know what a memory was supposed to look like, but mayhaps there were things to Learn that she could apply once she would come across her own Gate?

Clarification: the skeleton started on your side of the sewer grate door, stepped through it, and then closed it behind them, and then continued walking away.

Reassured by the presence of the others, Ninth Augmented Fifth sought to push on through the gate, making themselves as sharp and piercing as the chords they remembered, so as to avoid those necromantic bars as much as was possible

He had once been someone.

No, more than just someone.  He had been someone important.  Someone others looked to for guidance. Someone others looked for answers. Someone others had considered significant in the tapestry of this world, and the flow of time through it, and the happenings that transpired in it.  He had once been named, once had connections, a family, a past.

All gone.

He had been down in the sewers for some time, trying to find , something,  at first he had told himself he was looking for tools, at others food, but just mapping out the city, what was left of the city, town, certainly not a village, had occupied most of his time.  He was certainly still interested in tools. If he could begin to repair parts of the place, “Salvanas”, yes that had been its name, then he could attract… something.

Something good, or something bad, he could not say. Still it seemed like a better course of action than simply waiting for who knew what to happen. He had been hungry from time to time, but not for food, but something else. He couldn’t say what that something was and it bothered him.   Too many things bothered him.

He had been here for two months he believed, although  keeping track of time was difficult.  He found him near where the sewer system met the river , or rather he could hear it through the walls where he floated. That river had once been called  “Tears of the crescent,”    in the trade tongue, and before that “Kwashu” back when the Empire of Adujeni   had held sway. Before that it had been called “Agnanana,” for the Goddess that had supposedly ruled it, under the belief of the ancient Azterue.

How did he know that?

He wasn’t sure.

If he could hear the river though, then the purification systems and transfer pumps should be around here somewhere, right?

Back to the search, but be careful not to touch the walls, something seemed wrong about the walls, or something on the walls, but what? Too many questions.  Keep searching.

Submerging into the mire of the sewers, the spirt shark stalks the smaller gods, amusing himself, observing as they all push towards their own agendas.

He reaches out, rough psycho-electro signals emanating into the ruins of the old world.

"Well well well, what have we here? Three morsels groping their way towards....something. What hunger drives them so?"

The words rough, jagged, harsh
This message was last edited by the player at 22:55, Sat 12 Feb 2022.

In reply to Grootwithaai (msg # 12):


“I’d be a bitter fill for you to make your meal, whomever thou be.”

He wasn’t any more certain whether he was pleased to be speaking to someone, than he was certain to whom he spoke. Not any of the Essential Terrestrial  Servents, he was almost sure, but still that left a lot of room for others.

“Welcome to the remains of the city of promise, welcome to Salvanas.”

For that was what the place had meant, that was the places name, and by saying it he felt, somehow, different. It was the trigger to something, but what he could not yet say.

A 'city' you say...the rock caves of the believers I have seldom visited. They felt safer on land and in larger groups and were less...appetizing. Though the aquarium was nice, a spring of belief it was when the moon was still whole and the tides ebbed and flowed.

Discovery: While in the World, Small Gods can reshape themselves at will, provided they are not possessing a mortal form at the time.

Ninth Aug'Fifth successfully passes through the gate without losing any Belief in the process. Ahead of you, you see the skeleton continuing to move forward, in the direction of Father of Otters.

Grootwithaii snacks on a few Tiny Gods, kami without any Belief in them as he makes his way to the others. Without Belief, these Tiny Gods provide no no real sustenance.

Skelos and Iridiana joins the others on the opposite side of the gate from Nine's destination.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:20, Wed 16 Feb 2022.

On the other side of the necromantic barrier, Ninth shivered, a sibilant and breathy note. It spoke mournfully, to itself, "They played the song, in the city. No one plays the song now"

"Come", it spoke, more loudly "Squeeze through, leave nothing for the restless. Old bones seek the Father of Otters"

It follows the skeleton, but carefully. Watching

Iridiana watched Ninth Augmented Fifth reshape themselves to fit through the bars, watching with interest. She had to admit there were benefits to traveling as a group, and even if she could not Recall anything, watching others that did Remember would in turn teach her what was Forgotten.

She attempted to mimic what had been done, reshaping herself so she could pass through the gate whilst taking care not to actually touch the ancient material and pass through as swiftly as safety would allow. On the other side, she reformed as herself, which was to say a blurry figure as she did not Know herself, and so her appearance was as vague as the Memory of who she had once been.

Watching Ninth begin to follow the skeleton, she moved after him, mimicking his movements in order to Learn as they followed the skeleton beyond the ancient gate.

The spirit shark, being 100% id, presses on, pulled by the shared gravity of belief between the small gods and tugged at by what lies ahead.

He couldn't tell you why he did so though. His ancient fish brain just followed the trail.

Does Grootwithaai barrel straight through the necromantic bars to get next to everyone else?

He will gage the situation and choose the path of least risk and probably shrink down to avoid the bars.

He might be all id but he does have a very strong sense of self preservation and conflict avoidance, at least conflict He isn't sure he can win.

I'm pretty sure you're all on the other side of the bars now! There's a skeleton between you and the Father of Otter's abode.

Grootwithaai studies the skeleton, seeing, smelling whether the skeleton has a necromatic aura.

He also tries to gauge the strength of the skeleton and contemplates eating the kami.

“Celebrent Dayesabor Errayina   of Clan Everette  oversaw the worship of the tides,  rivers, lakes and streams, and was the voice of the city to the waters.   At least she is the last I can recall.  Worship services were held twice  on the    second ride of the trials, at the break of each season, and on the third New Moon.   The Master of Sharks had his own shrine, as I recall, but cannot say what it looked like, and a portion of the cities criminals were delivered along with prayers under a plack of their crimes unto  the sea in the fall season during the month of Althas. The first ride was known as the ride of sharks, in the Gods honor.”

Another transfer crystal was spotted, which was for a change still intact.  It was also active, which meant the Storm node in this area must still be partly functional. If it was partly functional then some part of the pumps, and perchance the desalting station might be still working as well.  Well, some of the boilers probably were, but not all.  He would need salt, a lot of salt, if he was going to get his plan in motion.

“A drop of sand, a fleck of wax represents a single step in time, a single breath of life.  Sixty of them make a turn, and sixty turns makes an hour.  Twenty-four hours makes a trial, for we stand on trials, and seven trials makes a ride of our lives.  Five rides makes the month, three months makes the season, and four season makes the revolution. Revolutions are marked by five, for this is more than merely a whim, for recording living time, however fair, however grim.”

He heard it then.

The sound he was seeking, long before the ancient well of what remained of memory had spat forth images, and names, and conceptualization for that which he sought. It was  a regular repetition. A rhythmic   recurrent reiteration.  A pure  pulsation pounding. It was one, just one, of the Storm Nodes of the city.  It was the heart that provided power, and in turn water, and light, and so many other factors of that which could be termed the lifeblood of Salvanas. It was so much, so very much fainter than what memory had said it should be.      Still some piece of him, and he could not say to whether that piece belonged to the being of the past he once was, who he could not remember with anything remote to clarity, or the being of the now that was guided entirely on goal oriented motivations,  but he was certain he was glad,  for if this node still worked, then it meant the city was not wholly gone, and if this city was not gone, then the Goddess that was the personification of this city must still live also.

What was more, it was a point from which he could  launch himself from to reach other goals.

"Steps and turns", muttered Ninth, a background rhythm building, some few chords echoing within as he watched the skeleton, "Hours and trials. Rides and months, seasons and revolutions"

"Time enough to slip past", he thought, out loud, "Time enough to warn the Father of Otters?"

And so he slipped past, a mist of sounds, faint and diaphanous

The shark god is in a lazy orbit around the others, changing size so that it can cruise around the space without hitting walls.

He doesn't like walls.

“I shall run upon the horizon  line of belief, knowing full well it will  burn me, knowing full well I shall bleed.

May my blood nourish the city.
May my blood strengthen the city.
May my blood improve the city.

I shall run alone, if need be.
I shall run being mocked, if need be.
I shall run forgoing loved ones, riches, or fame, if need be.
I. Shall. Run.

And those that come after me into this city, they shall be my children, and whether it be those children, or their children, or their children’s children’s children. Some day they shall march   across the  disheveled tide, and dance upon the mountaintops like a flame. Then they will call this city blessed, they shall speak of the city Goddess as the one of promise. Sylvanas.
I shall serve her, and this place at once, whomever I am, or was, for whatever reasons I was pulled out of the cycle, on all that I am, I promise it.”

This was, in words, the whole of his belief, that this city and its goddess was worthy of service.   Thus it was that he tried to take the part of him that was that belief, and channel it through the lens of faith, faith in that he was not alive, but a ghost broken out of the cycle, for the purpose of service to the city and the goddess that represented it, and was part of it, and helped to shape its destiny, and he tried to atoon to the city.


This message was last edited by the player at 04:44, Sat 19 Feb 2022.

Grootwithaai sniffs.

"It's been quite some time since any bleeding being has been here Chum, nor any spawnings or births by the smell of it.

No matter, I no longer have needs, just wants. Once this curiousity has played though, i will be on my way down the coast, might stop back at the holy carcass. It...invigorated. 

“Blood”, asked Ninth, perturbed, “blades and teeth beget blood, not songs”

Iridiana watched in silence as the others, those with Memory, professed their Knowledge of things. When Skelos made his announcement in order to stake a claim on the area, she leaned forward with interest, in an attempt to Learn what he was doing so she may copy it for her own use, should need and opportunity arise.

The skeleton was born out of the death of the earth, bones grinded and mixed together until they formed an alloy that could hold the love of others but never love back in return. It has seven eyes in a line across it's simple face with it's unclosing mouth. It's nine limbs are made of rods and wheels, though the "tail" is more wheels than rods. It's muscles are little more than hot breath channeled through hollows inside the rods. It's body reminds you of the carapace of an insect with three distinct segments.

The kami riding inside the body is stronger than Grootwithaai, as strong as the others here combined, and something about it feels familiar. Grootwithaai cannot remember the last time he's seen such a reservoir of Belief! It could surely defeat you should any of you attack it alone.

The body of the skeleton seems to be of average strength. It no longer has a mind or spirit.

Discovery: RULE: Mortal creatures have 3 stats: Body, Mind, and Spirit. An average value for these stats is d6.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:42, Tue 22 Feb 2022.

Added to setting: The Everstorm; Storm Nodes; Transfer Crystals. Brandon Sanderson, eat your heart out :)

Discovery: regardless of what time scale mortals use, OOC we will mostly be concerned with Seasons.

Recollection! Skelos may choose to make this time keeping system a tenant of his Followers' religions, the system used by past civilizations, or some combination of both.



That pulsing could only mean one thing: the Everstorm, the unending storm that had swept across the world for longer than any living Soul recalls, the easiest accessible source of necromantic power, the Everstorm is coming.

Here in these sewer walls, or in sacred places, small gods are safe, but practically blind and deaf, unable to see beyond it, unable to hear the prayers of their Believers. This is why reaching The Celestial Realm is so important: it is supposed to be a safe haven from the storm for all gods strong enough to enter the realm. From there, you will be able to see anywhere, craft miracles to hear the prayers of your people, and still collect their Belief, Everstorm or no.

Supposedly. Though, if you can build such a Miracle there, you should be able to also build such a thing here, shouldn't you? Not that you have anyone whose worship you needed to collect.




Sure. Remember that you have a very small pool of Belief and currently have no way to make more. But the stuff you spend will be useful for long term goals.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:01, Tue 22 Feb 2022.

The broken, unlit skeleton hears Ninth Augmented Fifth speak, and turns to the collection of small gods, even though it should not be able to see you unless you will it.

"Whazzat, then? Eh? Someone there?" You all recognize that voice, it's Father of Otters!

"Eh? I recognize all of you. Come, come, dangerous out here. Everstorm is coming. S'why I hid inside this dead thing. Come, come. Everstorm is coming."

And with that, Father of Otters pilots the skeleton further down into the sewers, towards his secret den.

Grootwithaai does so with great ease. Much more easily than Ninth Augmented Fifth did, for some reason.



If you wish, you may save this chant for use in your future religion.



As Skelos speaks, a dim memory resurfaces, floating up to the surface on the buoyancy of the increased localized Belief, of the kami Sylvanas That Was, in chains, strapped to a Storm Node. Around her, a horde of skeletons wail their constant refrain.

In the Here And Now, Skelos hears a faint, distant echo of that same wailing noise.

Father of Otters, speaking through the tinny voice of the skeleton, mutters, "So, you feel it too? Something rides the Everstorm. Something comes! A miracle stronger than any I have ever read of. A miracle, from Somewhere Else."




A Miracle, boosted by Everstorm!

Skelos, deduct 1 Belief (your character sheets should be available to you all). Please post a picture of a roughly 0.5 mile radius city from the real world to #comorian on my Discord, possibly using a screenshot from Google Maps, for integration into a future map of the Ruined City.

Skelos, you may designate a safe lodging that can easily accommodate 30 Followers, within that area. You can, of course, cram more Followers than that into that abode, if you wish.

OOC to All Players: don't feel rushed to follow his suite. The Everstorm will still be raging when the Followers arrive.

Iridiana watches, and Learns.

Miracles are the primary ways in which gods interact with the world. Miracles come in four styles: Creation,Destruction, Transformation, and Control.

• Creation: Creation Miracles bring things into being.
• Destruction: Destruction Miracles destroy or kill things.
• Transformation: Transformation Miracles physically alter things.
• Control: Control Miracles mentally alter people and creatures.

As each style requires fundamentally different mindsets and techniques, each God tends to prefer certain styles and avoid others. Pick one style your deity is In Harmony with — the style that they prefer and find easiest to perform, two styles they are In Balance with, and one style they are In Opposition to — the style they find most difficult and tend to avoid when possible.

While a God may cast any type of miracle they choose, miracles that they are in Harmony with are much easier for them, and hence have lower costs in Belief, while styles of miracle they are In Opposition to are more difficult and costly.

Please note these in your Character Sheet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:06, Tue 22 Feb 2022.

Delight, or perhaps its close cousin relief, flooded Ninth when they recognized the Father of Otters within the necromantic device. It sang a pure chord, its namesake chord, trumpeting the sound into the surrounding tunnels and listening joyously to the echoes that returned!

"Is there room inside for two? Or three?", they inquired happily, "I can hear the breath in its limbs. Do they sing too?"

Humming softly, they followed Father of Otters regardless

The divinely animated skeleton scoffs at these questions. "Room inside? Room inside? I can't imagine anyone I would trust enough to let try. Find your own to stuff yourself inside of, and it'll sing for you."

Iridiana's form pulses through a variety of shapes as she turns to consider the skeleton. First, to a form that matches the skeleton. Then, to a more mortal-seeming version of the same basic shape, with fur as well as carapace. Next, the form has wing-like membranes of skin extending between pairs of limbs on each side and an ethereal glow emanating from its tail.

Iridiana observed the skeleton, trying to reconstruct how it looked like when it walked the ground of its own power, and chanced upon a Memory of a similar creature in the back of her mind. Looking over the form her body had subconsciously assumed, she tried to hold on to what was Remembered, in an attempt to Recall as much as she could from that one fleeting moment.

- "Hm. Interesting."

It was the first time she had actually spoken so far in this place, as far as she was Aware, and so she listened to her ears as they picked up the sound of her own voice as she made them. So this was her voice then? Interesting. She turned back to the skeleton and its rider.

- "How did you come to ride this not-life thing?"

Grootwithaai shudders at the skeletons, awkward terrestrial things with legs and wheels.

It reminds him of the beings that walked the abyssal plain, scavenging dead-fall from the ocean above. He remembers something of his own death, sinking into the darkness, then his corpse being consumed by things with claws and teeth.

While those natural, living scavengers are long gone, the depths are stalked by something else now, unknown to Grootwithaai but he knows of the ghostly sounds that come up from the deep.

Iridiana form stabilizes into that of the multi-eyed, multi-limbed, multi-winged creature of carapace and fur.

Father of Otters comments gruffly, "One of the Chingaree Devas, eh? Pretending to be a servant of Fate, eh? Want to get your ass kicked when you step into the Celestial Realms, eh? Eh? I wouldn't do that, no I wouldn't. Though....I suppose you, of all my friends, would be the most likely to pull it off."





Rules on casting Miracles have been expanded, see the appropriate thread

The Father of Otters leads you all into a cavernous vault hidden within the sewer system as he talks. It is filled with storm-powered artifacts that feel like books, but are made of gems and metals. Though in shape and form, they look like many of the Dead Things you've seen throughout the ruins that Skelos calls Salvanas, these artifacts do not feel dead. A great many people loved this place and the things inside it, at some point in the forgotten past.

There is a pool drawn off from a river at the bottom of the vault, where a large family of otters play.

"It is a simple Miracle to possess anything, living or dead. Or do you mean how it happened today? Not your business, no, not yours to worry over."

Common Miracle: Possess Body or Object. Cost: 1 Belief.
Take over any physical object or living being. Duration: Conflict

Common Miracle: Manifest. Cost: 1 Belief
Appear in the physical world. Creatures nearby can see, hear, touch, and attack you. Duration: Conflict

Leaving the skeleton husk to slump in a corner by the door, like a coat discarded after entering a warm room, the Father of Otters welcomes you all in. "So, what brings you in from the rain? Seeking shelter from the Everstorm?

The kami coughs and wheezes, and the small gods around him notice that he has a sickly hue, and scars over his face, like branching cracks. Did he always look this way, or is this new? You cannot remember (not without spending Belief, anyway).

Common Miracle: Hindsight. Cost: 1 Belief (0 if used through a Sacred Follower)
Allows you to learn the history of an object, or it's manufacture process. This miracle can impart knowledge to a Sacred Follower if desired, through a divine vision, however, this knowledge will only be useful to your followers if they understand the science behind the process. Duration: Instant.

The gaps in his memory, often frustrating in their own right, make this particular all the more confusing. Why had Grootwithaai chosen to sneak into the Abyssal Plains, which he seemed to recall was a particular afterlife of a particular God? Had he gone to eat a soul before it could enter the reincarnation cycle?

Location added : The Abyssal Plains, in the Celestial Realms. Owner: unknown. Current condition: unknown

---

The Everstorm is coming! And with it

Ninth shivered at the sight of Father of Otters, battered and scarred. It reminded him of the Foe, in the flashes of images that eluded his memory and accompanied his song. But without the foul taste-scent of that caricature of a figure. He was nervous though, and shied away from asking their host of the matter, instead, deflecting his curiosity to the story-holders of gems and metal, "Have you found the Song yet, Father of Otters? Or have I asked before? I remember the song used to haunt the waves in the air, and live in rainbow spinners that the Believers carried... but I can't find any"

His chord thrummed, full of power and hair, "I came because of the storm. Something's coming. Something bigger than my memories"

OOC: apologies for the missing text

The Everstorm is coming! And with it, buried within the lightning, thunder, and detritus, the small gods can feel a thousand fists knocking on a thousand doorways.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:21, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

Skelos was at that very moment standing, well floating, inside one of the primary pumps for that area.  Given where he was,  dematerialized, he could observe the   intake valves at work, the suction of saltwater into the greater sewage  system, through the channel canals, into storage unit one, and from there into the two working boilers.   The water was then boiled, caught up into the five turn pipes, and dumped, free of salt, into storage tanks Ashon or Boshon, with three fourths of the removed salt being dumped via elevator into its own     respective storage units.     It was that one-forth of salt that remained behind that interested Skelos. He needed it. Well, he would need it, and soon, but not yet, and not as it currently was.   That was why he was concentrating, descending into his own consciousness  for the same internal well of power, small that it was, that he had instinctively used to  attune to the city.  He used it now to attune to the pumping system, and to  boiler one.  He became that pump and that boiler, as much control of them, as he once had over his own body, when he had a body.

It wasn’t easy.

Even though the boiler did have pistons and a mechanism to interrupt  the boiling process, to Skelos, locking down the  plates over the electric ports and preventing the injectors from spewing out gas for further ignition was like straining long-unused muscles.  Opening the rear door to allow the salt water to flow through — and carrying the additional salt with it— into the holding tank on the right most side was easy as breathing used to be.  After that Skelos let initial process resume as normal, only interrupting them twice more, as to  fill up that holding tank about halfway, with very salty water.

The structures he’d viewed, well the two that were still fully standing, happened to have a vapor and         terrestrofield  surrounding them, and one of the things behind that field had been  a good  five yards length of Mourner’s Moss. He’d need that, along with the heavy salted water, if he was going to fight the necrotic rot all about him.

Iridiana tilted her head as the Father of Otters spoke to her. Chingaree Devas were what those whose form she had taken were Known as then, interesting. Or perhaps that was what he had simply decided they should be named. Nevertheless, she replied.

- "The Celestial Realm... You seem to Know of them. Have you been there?"

The Everstorm began to rage outside, sounding like many people trying to get in. And maybe it was, for all she knew, but she wasn't about to open a door to look. Opening doors could lead to unexpected things, she Knew, and not all of them good.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

Grootwithaai settles into the otter pool with the otters, he enjoys some mock predation, harmlessly chomping through the creatures to scratch a carnivourous itch. Knowing the creatures are protected by his host, he quickly overcomes the instinct and settles into a lazy cruise.

"The maelstrom has always been a chaotic constant. I have swam in its shadow for hundreds, maybe thousands of seasons. A horizon not to be crossed that shifted and breathed as the Tides once did.

Nature...no not nature, entropy perhaps demands that it lashes out from time to time."

His raspy tone seems unvexed by the existential threat but his instinct was to seek the shelter of the ruins.

“And the storm comes calling, calling.
And the rain is falling, falling.
And the lightening is flashing, and the thunder’s crashing, and it all beats upon me,
But I remain thankfully, still loving thee.
As constant as the tide, I shall abide, when the winds writhe,
And the monster of entropy’s drums of war do beat, you’ll still find me, oh me, loving thee.  “

The storm had come, while he was inside the boiler.

The memories had come with it.

Not all, mind, but more than he had within his mental storehouse prior, and that was a fine thing in of itself.

“Oh Stormmaker, dance with the breaker,
And in the shaker you’ll find in the shaping of humanity, me, oh me, still loving thee.
Even crushed under the landslide, I’ll still abide, in this merely a fragment of a memory,
Still loving thee. “

One of the others was a fragment, he thought, of the world song. The song of the  Fundamental Elemental Core’s, the drum of the Terrestrial, the brass of the Flamekin, the string of the Liquidborn, the woodwinds of the Vaporkin, who’s song and dance led to the various Ethers, which were captured and barggened for, by mortals as part of alchemical ingredients, and part of the crystaltech, which in turn made modern civilization possible –    had made it possible.  Could they make it possible again? He could recall, even now, only one of the tongues completely, but the other three were only fragments, enough to get ideas across, but hardly enough for the fluency he had once possessed.

Still, no spark of memory for who he had once truly been.

It bothered him.

Skelos turns down a different path amid the rotting sludge within these halls, and finds an ancient machine suitable for his purposes. Inhabiting the necromantic device, the ghost channels the anbaric energies within the system to channel salt water closer to the patch of Mourner's Moss growing nearby.

Miracle attempt

The cost of a miracle is determined by the total outcome desired, and usually is not pieced together in small steps like this (ie, NOT "spend 1 belief to acquire the salt, 1 belief to acquire the moss, etc"). See Steps For Miracle Casting, in the Rules thread.

To perform a miracle, I need you to:
1) Determine what you want to happen.
2) Determine how to accomplish it.
3) Describe the Miracle.

Then I will help you:
4) Determine the Miracle’s cost.
5) Spend Belief.

At which point,
6) The Miracle occurs!
--> 6.a) Gain Belief from Followers seeing your Miracle

Though, there are no Followers right now, mere minutes before they arrive. Casting a miracle now, will mean the miracle's effects are available for you to direct potential Followers to. Alternately, you could wait until there are potential followers on the ground, and enticing these folks to follow you would be a part of the miracle's effects)

Once the miracle is cast, there is an option for other gods to counter it, but you don't seem to be in direct conflict with another god. Though, I have no idea what you're trying to do, so who knows?

The scars spread across the "body" of the Father of Otters seems to crackle with tiny sparks of anbaric energy as he tries to remember. Somewhere within his lair, the hum of a malignant engine emits a low, constant hiss.

"The Celestial Realms, yes. As my reknown grew, I became aware of a door, just outside of my awareness, tantalizingly outside of my reach. Of course, young Ot-tt-tt-tt-tt-tter, you would recognize that as the First Path, which leads to the Garden Gates, home of Fate and his Devas. But when I was but a small god, I had no one to tell me such places even existed, let alone how to get there."

The Father of Otters speaks as though he is reciting lines, and not lines he originally spoke, but seemingly words that had been said to him, in some distant and unknowable past. At points, the images and words skip back on itself, as it works a path through the corruptions to the rest of the word.

The putrid stench of anbaric forces twisting inside rotting machines grows louder, and dead-light coalesces in the center of the room, forming pictures and images. You all instinctively know that such focused dead-lights are deeply harmful, should you come in direct contact with them. Here, floating above your heads, you can look at them easily without touching them.

Had you human eyes, watching humans talk, you would have called this a movie of an old man telling his child campfire tales while they roasted marshmallows. But you are gods, watching the reverie of another god, recorded using the arts of the dead, and projected beyond time and space through death magic. The memories and the words feel more like a haunting, like some ancient lich's final grave curse twisted these memories and spirits to it's own ends, regardless of the simple pleasures permeating the original moment.

"Once my flock grew stable and secure, and, I'm told, of sufficient size, I could finally see the door, right behind me. Always right behind me. I could not face the door, but I could reach behind myself and t-t-t-t-touch it, twist the handle, and step backwards into the Celestial Realms. It is one of Fate's Miracles, those doors. Or perhaps the work of whatever created Fate and placed him in our world."

One of the panels of the walls lights up red, with ancient glyphs scrawled across it in black, like they had been carved into wet sand by a talon. Nearby, another panel transforms into a spinning globe, a slash of red spreading from the north most tip to the southernmost.

"The First Path leads to a wide delta, where the River of Souls spreads out into a thousand tributaries. Here, Fate tends to the Soul Grove, the fruits of these trees fed by the River until they are ready to fall into the world. The Devas tend these trees, and greet visitors. A Chingaree Deva, her True Name eaten long ago, welcomed me, guided me, showed me the Realms. She told me who dwelt where, and helped me pick a location for my own Realm. Here, the Belief flowed so thickly that creating my Realm was as easy as spreading my wings."

As Grootwithaai speaks a simple truth about the Everstorm, an amber dot appears on the globe above, nearly touching the streak of red energy.



In the same moment, Skelos sings a forgotten song, and some mischievious Dead Thing hears the song, and stirs from its long slumber long enough to whisper,

Command code accepted.

And as Ninth Augmented Fifth yearns for something lost, the amber dot on the globe flashes bright enough for its edges to touch the red streak, which explodes. In a fragment of a moment, the red streak, surely representing the Everstorm, expands out across the entire globe and a million amber dots bloom within its spreading glow.

Each of you can feel an unimaginable number of portals opening up throughout the Everstorm. Can feel a thousands booted feet kick these doors open, and several dozen different types of Potential Followers begin leaping through these doors and into your world. Only ten (10) leap through any single door, although your inherent divinity insists that such Miracles should be proportioned in some other, more esoteric number.

Many of these mortals die instantly, the chaotic energies of the Everstorm ripping their souls out of their bodies. With each death, you can hear a howl of rage and impotence echo out of the door they came from.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:35, Tue 08 Mar 2022.

Iridiana felt a great many portals open, and though she did not Remember what it had been like when she must have had crossed one upon entering this world, she somehow still Knew what was going on outside, in the Everstorm. Aware of the ones that were dying.

Thus, she attempted to mimic what Skelos had done earlier, reaching out in an attempt to gather the consciousnesses of the dead and dying to herself, gathering their memories to add to her own. Since coming here, her mind unKnown to her, Knowledge was what she sought, and the preservation of Memory felt of great importance to her. She did not Know how it would affect her, but she would Learn from the attempt, and be all the wiser for it.

Grootwithaai's disposition immediately changes. Faint etherial sounds and fragments of souls diffuse through the layers of loam and concrete.

Agitated he swims in tight circles with ever increasing speed. Life and death, new signs of mortals he never expected to feel again.

"There's no place for us", whispered Ninth Augmented Fifth, an fragment of memory surfacing, full of reverberations of sorrow and loss and longing, "No time but what we make"

"They've got the knowing of things", they finished, almost imperceptible bar from the note of hope, through which their own name-chord sang, "And I the knowing of them"

Their chord swelled, siren-like to steer a threshold for one of the portals close by, those emerging attuned to them

Attempting a Miracle
1. Ninth wants to pull some (more?) Potential Followers to them, metaphysically and physically if possible
2. Ninth is tuning those portals being opened to their own nature, finding one that is close to their themes
3. Ninth is enacting it through their knowledge and control of harmonies, literal and miraculous

Grootwithaai is hit with a wave terror from the dying mortal souls and immediately craves it. He knows it is the path to madness without the aegis of Spirit Siphonophores of the Abyss.

Knowing venturing out into the maelstrom in search of one now may sweep his spirit away as well, he just circles and pontificates "Is this my end? After all of this time? Surviving season and cataclysm to be driven to insanity by that which is maddening seductive?

Had I known, I would have thrown myself into oblivion a long....long time ago.

Have you no taste for it? The emotions of the weak and dying?" He asks the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Wed 16 Mar 2022.

Iridiana gathers Worn Souls into herself, plucking them from the River like a fisher with a net.

---Begin OOC---

This is an Alteration Miracle, since you are changing something from one thing to another, in this case the path that souls take.

(Note that souls aren't part of the Rules As Written, but I like the idea, so we're running with it. Currently, there are two types of Souls - Fresh Souls, like what Iridiana started as before gaining Belief, and Worn Souls, plucked from the reincarnation cycle like pulling a dirty cup out of the dishwasher before the rinse cycle.)

The Base cost is determined by the quality of souls you're choosing to gather.

2 - Trivial Alteration / d4s
3 - Minor Alteration / d6s (standard)
4 - Significant Alteration / d8s
5 - Major Alteration / d10s
6 - Legendary Alteration / d12s

It sounds like you're trying to gather souls with a High Mind Stat, with Average Body and Spirit. Is that correct? If you want souls with two or all three stats high, the base cost goes up 1 or 2 steps, respectively.


Note that souls, being dead, do not count as Followers, and will not help you generate Belief until you find something to do with them, which will take another miracle. You can either specify that:

•   you take them at the moment of death, for the "Belief refund" you get when performing miracles in front of Believers, OR
• you can take the ones have already started to swim down the River, which will have a story effect, and can be done using the Everstorm for much cheaper (Base Cost without multiplier), and will also have a story effect. Trying to use the Everstorm to affect still-living souls would be....ill-advised.

The following Cost Factors may apply:

Cost Factors always start at 1.

Duration
Either a quick grab, or you're opening a doorway into your sanctuary and gathering souls for the length of the Everstorm. In this case, that mechanically works out to be the same as 1 step on the scale chart, below.

Instant +0
One conflict or one week +1
(you could go for a longer duration, but I doubt you have the belief for it)

Domain
Without anyone left who remembers you, you are not remembered for anything and have no domains. Once you complete this Miracle, the souls you gather will definitively know of you, and you'll have domains related to this defining act.

Inclinations
How would you describe this?

• Creation: Creation Miracles bring things into being.
• Destruction: Destruction Miracles destroy or kill things.
• Transformation: Transformation Miracles physically alter things.
• Control: Control Miracles mentally alter people and creatures.

Remember, you should have picked your inclinations by now. If you're in Harmony, it's -1 (min 1). Opposed is +1


Location
The Miracle occurs on or in a location that no god controls. +0

Scale
How many souls do you wish to try to gather?

The sum of the Cost Factors gets looked up on a table (see Rules msg #3).


Assuming you collect Trivial souls (d4s), through the entire everstorm, in a way harmonious to your godhood, you could collect hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of them for 60 Belief (Base Cost 2 * 15 (Cost Factor 1 -1 +5 +1 = 6, lookup on table)

Or, if you do it harmoniously, you could instantly grab 10 Legendary souls (d12s) for 6 Belief. (Base 6 * 1 (Cost Factor 1 -1 +1 = 1, lookup on table).

Or any combination above. And remember, you'd still have to do something with them. They're not Followers...yet. Though, they will be tethered to you (as protected from the Everstorm as you are), loyal, and willing to take your orders.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:19, Mon 21 Mar 2022.

Ninth Augmented Fifth draws Followers to them, tugging the portal doors with a stuccatto beat that grows strongly and more sure of itself with every step they take towards their new god.

---Begin OOC---

This is an Alteration Miracle, since you are changing something from one thing to another, in this case the destination of the portals harboring Followers who share a kinship with you.

This is in many ways similar to Iridiana's miracle, only with Followers. Whatever level of Alteration miracle you pick will be their base stats for Body, Mind, and Spirit. Of whatever quantity you gather, 30% will have +1 step to one stat, in whatever ratios you feel like.

Domain
You are doing this with Music, which is mostly what you are. I'm willing to call that a Primary Domain, which has a (house ruled) Cost Factor of -2

Other Factors

You may choose to harness the Everstorm in place of the Cost Factor part of the equation. This will randomize the Scale of the effect, and will also have a story effect.

As he speaks, Grootwithaai can feel Iridiana gathering souls into herself, and Ninth drawing resonant Followers through doorways and towards themselves.

There is a difference between feeding on the Terror consuming living mortals as they take their last breath, and gathering souls after they have passed out of their mortal coils. It feels more like a shark gathering remora to nibble and lick molds and parasites free from the shark's divine body, letting those remora feed upon the scraps that spill from your mouth.

Ninth, on the other hand, seems to be drawing kindred spirits to their side. A school of baby sharks, Ninth's very own children, by celestial reasoning, regardless of what waters they were birthed in. This also looks quite different from the crashing, mind-fogging glory of Terror, for as these Followers feel the awe-inspiring presence of Ninth in their lives, it is like watching a shipwrecked mortal lost at sea taking their first drink of pure water in centuries, only it is a God instead of a mortal.

An electric crackle of energy explodes from one of the undulating spheres pushed into the wall, and strikes Grootwithaai, and with it comes a....

Memory: You recall the technologies of Sailboats and Celestial Navigation, and many more poorly-understood seafaring technologies that came after it. With it, comes brief visions of long-lost parts of yourself:
an altar with your idol, a sextant, and a spyglass; an audience strapped into 6DMAX Full Sensory Chairs, cooing with delight and terror over a favored story about their beloved god, Grootwithaai; a terrible, aching emptiness as a vessel sinks below the waves, a skywhale roaring triumphantly as it sails overhead; an insatiable need for revenge; and....kinship? For a skywhale?

Leaning into the staccato beat, Ninth lets the music swell and soar, images of lightning recalled to their mind though the song eludes them still

OOC: Let's throw this into the Everstorm for Scale, and play with Legendary power for a Base Cost of six Belief; hopefully that's no too early a throw of precious resources! For the 30%, split evenly between a +1 step to each of Body, Mind and Spirit

In reply to Ninth Augmented Fifth (msg # 57):

A denser quantity of portals begin to open, flooding the ancient ruins with new life. However, the conditions of the storm have not lessened, and....now that they are closer, many of these Followers seem very confused, many not even seeking shelter from the storm before being struck by it.

Not all who are struck in this way die. Like the crystals which once harnessed the Everstorm for the city's uses, these individuals soak up the chaotic energy and are changed by it.

You notice that some Tiny Gods, hungry for greater power, even try to leap towards and possess such Storm-wrought bodies, with varying degrees of success.

The storm has taken this miracle of music and amplified it. The song does not fade away after a few bars, but pulses and trembles throughout the storm. One almost gets the sense that even the flashes of lightning in this region are now sparking off in time to the beat. The density of portals grows thicker and thicker, and soon the streets of Salvanas That Was are knee deep in bodies -- killed either by the passage, or the storm, or each other -- causing the thousands of survivors to stumble, fall, or crawl as they seek shelter. Some of the refugees fleeing their world actually fall into other portals as they leap through, they've grown so numerous.

While for the most part, these mortals are a scattered mix, distributed haphazardly in starting groups of 10 before some or all fall, the strange thing is that they sometimes band together with aliens from other worlds, despite the language barrier. These mergers only seem to happen when the groups that encounter each other would form a new group of exactly ten members. Yet, any other time two groups run into each other, they begin to fight. Poorly. Like untrained, uninspired, terrified children who can't recognize each other as mortals equally capable of Belief.

One Follower steps through a portal high in the sky, carrying her Small God in a golden idol in two of her hands, both seemingly protected from the raging of the storm. Instantly, ten Chingaree Devas materialize in the sky above the city and begin doing battle with the High Priestess. With a gesture, the High Priestess smites one of the Devas in half before diving for cover.

Within the confusion of all this, Ninth Augmented Fifth finds his kindred spirits, a village's worth of souls who were touched, not just by the music, but by the holy touch of Ninth Augmented Fifth, untainted by the influence of the Everstorm.

OOC:

12:42, Today: Fate rolled 9 using 3d8 ((6,1,2)).  Scale for Ninth's Everstorm-fueled miracle. (Nation, Individual, Household; average of Village)
Today: Fate rolled 2 using 1d2.  Duration for Ninth's Everstorm-fueled miracle.
Result: conflict-long

13:16, Today: Fate rolled 59 using 10d12 with rolls of 3,8,10,7,8,1,3,5,8,6.  Conflict between legendary warriors, side B.
13:15, Today: Fate rolled 64 using 10d12 with rolls of 7,11,11,6,6,9,1,6,3,4.  Conflict between legendary warriors, side A.

Highest rolls:
Side A: 11
Side B: 10

Side A wins with 2 dice higher than Side B's highest roll, therefore killing 2 stacks from Side B. Next round, Side B will only be rolling 8d12.

13:27, Today: Fate rolled 51 using 10d10 with rolls of 6,4,8,7,5,10,3,6,1,1. Chingaree Devas
13:26, Today: Fate rolled 11 using 1d12 with rolls of 11.  Sister From Another World.

The Chingaree Devas's highest roll is a 10. Their opponent has only 1 die higher than 10, and so the Devas lose, and lose one stack token.

Ninth would normally now gain (1d12 * 2) Belief, from their followers, but since the miracle was fueled by the Everstorm, this Belief is swept up by those chaotic forces.

Explicitly, Ninth Augmented Fifth has just gained 100 Followers with base stats of d10. 30 of these have one attribute at d12, 10 for each stats, Body, Mind, and Spirit.

They have also vastly increased the pool of potential recruits within range of Salvanas.

Ninth, as you reveal yourself to your new Followers, you can feel a doorway appear "behind" you in a 5th or 6th dimension. Wherever you move in the mortal realm, you can feel this portal within arms reach. It does not block your ability to move or perceive, as it occupies a direction in which nothing else exists. Father of Otters has told you about this experience, and you assume it is the path to the Celestial Realm granted to all Gods with sufficient Followers.

If Father of Otters is to be believed, once you step through that door, you will be safe from the Everstorm and any other mortal threat, while still hearing the prayers of your people. Then, you need only exit the Garden, claim an unused chunk of Realm as your own, shape some part of it into a scrying device that would let you see into the mortal realm, and then you'd be able to save these folks from the comfort of a perfectly imagined choir stand, or whatever you'd like.

Your new Followers are currently wading through a sea of dead bodies, beset by a soul-threatening storm, without food or shelter. Though they feel the hope inherent to being close to their god, they do not know your name, nor any aspect of you sufficient to pray to you specifically. As such, their prayers for salvation can be heard by any god nearby.

Grootwithaai, understanding now his mistake looks to the mortals fighting in the streets and the small gods drawing souls and followers to themselves.

Visualizing the familiar pier in the bay, Grootwithaai pours the little belief he has to convert the ruins into a safe haven. He alters the buildings to provide sufficient physical and psychic shelter from the storm and he patrols to make sure no harm befalls the mortals within.

Ooc: 2 miracles, one alteration for spirtitual and physical shelter and a sense of calm. One destructive miracle to keep dangers at bay. Goal is to serve as the guardian of the pier and attract mortals to live inside (without killing each other).

Will work on the math shortly but I think it'll use all 10 belief.

Torn between the challenge their nascent Followers faced and the unopened door behind them, Ninth sought a chord that would provide for a path for them, a vision perhaps. They searched their memories, seeking somewhere within Salvanas That Was that their folk may gather. If none presented there was the shoreline, and that was the vision they sent - a place where they might hunt and fish, with the memories of otters fishing and fish glimmering in the shoals

Grootwithaai reshapes the pier into...

I need the details on the miracles before proceeding, and please describe the sanctuary you create. We'll stick to the pier for an option, since there are folks landing all over the city now.

Ninth, there are many ruins you can bring your people to. Notably, there is a small campus of ruined museums, an urban shopping mall, or an auditorium you can start with, along with the shoreline. It will cost you 1 Belief to send the vision. Again, please describe it.

Miracle to perform dramatic surgical strikes on threats against the pier to make an example of a few to scare off many. If groups less than 10 approach the pier (which appears to be the point they turn aggressive?), they are free to seek shelter at the pier and join the others.

3 Minor alteration
-1 Destruction in balance
+1 conflict
+1 10 peeps

Total cost = 3

Turn the pier into a port in the storm. On the pier itself repair the ruins of the buildings and at the front create an imposing bulwark that can be easily defended but still accessible. If there is extra belief left over, Grootwithaai would infuse the area with a sense of calm to keep the mortals from going aggro.


3 Minor alteration

+0 Transmutation in harmony
+0 instant
+2 100 people

Total cost = 6

Common miracle: Manifest
Cost= 1


In the chaos of this deliverance of mortals Grootwithaai felt the energies of violence and life filling the city and his pent up frustrations and appetite for belief now within reach combined into an unstoppable impulse.

He swam out of the sewers and headed for the coast. Scanning the waterfront for a suitable spot his eyes alight upon the old naval pier jutting out into the sea. Warehouses and barracks were soon similarly teeming with new life that instantly descended into infighting. Grootwithaai, seeing a whole potential ecosystem falling into senseless violence summoned a bit of what little belief he and expended it. In the ocean, his body solidified out of the ethereal plane, fin splitting the water as in days of old. He relished the sensations and they urged him on.

Embelleshing, he took a colossal form, matching the size of the ships resting at the bottom of the bay and with it, he pushes his thoughts upon the believers on the pier with immense pressure.

"MORTALS! DO NOT WASTE THE PRECIOUS GIFT THAT IS LIFE. I BESTOW YOU SANCTUARY UPON THIS PIER. I SHALL DESTROY THOSE WHO WOULD SEEK TO HURT YOU. HONOR THE PEACE I GIVE YOU OR RECIEVE MY WRATH. WITNESS! WITNESS THE SMILE OF KNIVES! WITNESS THE CARNAGE THAT PROTECTS! WITNESS GROOTWITHAAI!"

As he spoke the buildings on the pier transformed.  The metal sided warehouses and barracks, ruined and ripped through were mended, strengthened, and fortified. Within the howling of the maelstrom instantly relented as the walls and roofs formed a shelter for those within. At the abutment at the start of the pier, a jagged rock face sprung up, leaving a narrow path through a fortified and imposing barrier. Wherever Grootwithaais powers touch, small outcroppings of bioluminecent algea, barnacles and corals arise giving the pier a faint glow.

And with that Grootwithaai begins his watch of the pier. Receding back into etheralness, he intends to rebuff any mortal, souls or gods who dared approach the gates or swim out over the waters with hostility. When presented with a group, Grootwithaai makes an example of one, 'biting' a limb and rupturing skin and tissues, seeking to scare away the threats. Any mortals seeking shelter were spared as Grootwithaai secured a final bastion of believers.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:16, Thu 24 Mar 2022.

Gathering themselves, Ninth let a chord sing out - subsonic here in Father of Otter's chamber, but clear and audible to those whom they had summoned.

Wordless, it spoke to them: of history, antiquity, a place of safety in the museums of the city. Places of knowledge, once, and memories. A very fine vintage.

Wordless, Ninth spoke: seek those who hum this chord, seek the safety of the museums with their thick walls and their juxtaposition of necrotic engines and ancient devices, each explained

Wordless, humming: find it, claim it, hold it