RELEVANT FEED START
1 4 2024
Happy new year. May it offer you much joy and possibilities. The length of playtime now equals my hiatus length. Chronicle will continue when inspiration strikes, but I am also working on other projects. Be well, dwellers of thine infinite realms.
Oct 18, 2023
Special mention Lemuroid. Everything, almost, from atari2600 to 3ds. Amazing piece of software that gives so much power and enjoyment in a simple to run format.
And what to run? CD Romance has just about every retro you need. For sharper teeth their is Romspure, Romsfun or hexroms. Wowroms is easiest way to supply n64 roms CD Romance lacks.
Happy Gaming!!!
The recent unspeakable, unrepentant horrors and atrocities of this world require deep and thoughtful prayer more than ever. Please God, enable healing of the afflicted and punishment on those so tragically, hellishly wicked. Blowing up an effing hospital. There are no words. Stay alert out there.
Oh and the monster mashing fun need never end. There are always more powerful minions to assemble. How exciting.
Also have begun the next grand work, the Book of Tempest. Um, shouldn’t gathered manimals and fenimals now be referred to as gathered for the lab, rather than the ark? It would definitely make more sense.
My first fruit from the Lab of Tempest, a Bagstabber with 50% power.
As of August 17th, 2023 this account is a living memorial to the wondrous life and times of my dear 77 yr old cousin. She suffered a stroke on Father’s Day and never recovered. Paralyzed, unable to eat or drink, it is a mercy she was quite unaware of what had happened to her. Now her suffering is at an end, and we, her dear blood, must gather ourselves and carry on.
Until we meet again on the shores of heaven.
July 6, 2023
A full gathering of 2×2. 1000 pairs. And now a new venture is unlocked, a quest for even deeper reaches of indescribable power. A lab, and a monstrous champion to piece together from many defeated foes. Gotta say one thing about this alternative two dimensional word filled universe, it is DEEP. As only literature can be. Four medals equals the coveted crimson laurel. Hail Caesar!
This was not the true origin of the saga of Vathmados. This is why it is called the THIRD Manifestation. After an unavoidable real life crisisis, the first advent was rendered defunct after a 4 year hiatus. The first manifestation is the deity of Stillness, Everfrozen, and his champion Nalgos. The second is a brief evil power trip dark deity of the Void, Reyvom, and his vile mistress Vomaria. Both of these alts are defunct, so I see no negative consequences calling attention to the true length and breadth of my imaginative saga crafting. Should one dark day only one power is demanded, I will fuse all the facets, all the aspects, into one massive superbeing. For now, we all remain.
We are numerous, we are powerful. We go on.
I don’t owe you any explanations for what I do. I might not even look at the friends section for YEARS. I have many distractions, and I am here for humor and imagination. Not social elements.
selective reengagement initiated
on my own time
i game a LOT do not be surprised to go days without a response though i am heavily engaged in this endless perpetual adventure masterpiece
currently deep in agarest war 1
special mention new haunt crush crush. check it out it is waifu paradise.
and how it reforms… welcome Null the Double Dragon. A dragon is the ultimate pet monster, but don’t be fooled. They are untrainable.
get medal, lose animal in the next 60 hours. how the cookie crumbles.
Animal Medal Now.
Snowy
Lightsaber Toothed Tiger
Level 30
07:59 AM Just when the monster thought it had won, I quickly used my foot solder and felt a lot better. Bring it on!
My idea….IMPLEMENTED.
Injustice. Travesty. Treachery. There are no words to convey the extremity of this crime. The people have become too compliant, too complacent, too gullible. But even so, there is no way the evil ruinous failure of socialism, fascism, the ancient love of tyrants, dictators, and evil doers, could be approved of by the majority of the free people of this free realm. I will never accept such utter, rotten perfidy as the truth, and no other patriot should do such either. Pray dearly, for your realm, your family, your health, your lives. Pray without ceasing, let heaven endlessly ring with yon supplications, so the one true eternal Almighty God, his only begotten son, the Prince of Peace and Savior of the World, Jesus Christ, and every angel and saint hears them, and has no choice but to pay attention. Pray for grace, mercy, and strength. Pray for justice, vindication for innocents and vengeance on the wicked. Pray like you have never, ever prayed before.
God bless America.
God help us all.
Ah hell. I have decided to disengage completely. I have always been more of a fan of single player modes. I am here for the laughs. Laughter is the best medicine, after all, especially in a world run amok. Keep those puns coming. Creativity is a brilliant light pushing back the darkness of ignorance.
I can breeze in, check on my hero status, perhaps respond in chat once, then breeze out without continuing the conversation. No one can compel or capture me digitally. I make time for games, books, movies, tv shows, anime. Not people. So be patient or disengage completely.
As for sparring, I won’t ignore the dialog box if it pops up. Us gods really need some sort of active now indicator.
None of my entities do or ever will support Long Bowel Movements, Profa, or anyone who thinks looting, burning and murdering are acceptable behavior for any who deign to call themselves a human being.
God is watching all of you.
I find this a serious upgrade. I always wanted a lightsaber toothed tiger. And don’t believe the myth you can take one out by hitting it on the head. Besides, that is unholy cat abuse, and you will be the tiger’s well deserved lunch.
Chewy
Level 27 Sun Dog
7 months 5 days
Isolant General Modifiers
-2 STR
-2 DEX
+2 CON
+2 INT
+2 WIS
-4 CHA
Species Reveal – The Isolant
These creatures have gained immense power from constant exposure to technology. Blue light from screens does no harm. They are skilled with the systems they endlessly tinker with, and constantly bask in the rewards of their new innovations. They live an isolated and distant life, dwelling in their secret fastnesses for decades at a time. They are obscenely nocturnal, so much so they gain vitamin sustenance from moonlight instead of sunlight. Cloaked in mystery and awash in secrets, they present a confusing state of affairs to the unimaginative drudges of the surface. They gain great suspicion and resentment for it.
They are artists and creators of all types, isolated recluses often working on projects of immense depth and complexity. Fun is their greatest motivation, for a life without fun is a life that can’t be enjoyed. They are fiercely loyal to the few who know their true nature. Alliances of blood are the most predominant.
Isolants rarely value dalliances. The majority do not understand their unique nature, do not meet their standards, or are already involved.
Isolants, with all the time on their hands they have, develop powerful magic and technological skills. They often ally with other mysterious ancients, such as elves and dragons. This grants them incredible combat potential despite being so physically inactive.
The most dangerous weapon of an Isolant though, is without question their diamond sharp mind. Isolants have the unmatched ability to turn words into power, be it spoken or written. Isolants possess the largest vocabularies and can insult, encourage, inspire or heal with equal spectacular effectiveness.
They spend their time how they choose to. They have no masters, no timeframes, no demands. Each Isolant is unique in how they became so fortunate. Some are born disabled, some are struck with affliction later in life, some gather the immense amount of resources to change perspective after ages of toil as a drudge or drone. What is the same is that each Isolant guards the secret of their origin with dogmatic and frenzied fervor. It is a question not asked.
What is so great is that in Godville, Time NEVER stops. Monsters keep being killed, items sold, adventures had. It is so original and well done, and though Progress Quest did it first, it has never been done like this.
VALAR GODVILLUS!!!!
I am the quintessential professional gamer. If I am not here, here are my current haunts – don’t wait up, I have zero obligations to fellow divinities.
Logging Quest II
Icewind Dale Complete
Dungeon Crawl Stone Soup
Tales of Maj’Eyal
Morrowind
Warlords Battlecry
Civilization – Test of Time
Summoner
Alpha Centauri
TA Kingdoms
LORDS OF MAGIC
AGAREST
Life? What life? I don’t answer to you.
This be thine end to what I thoroughly consider a nonissue. Ponder the flesh and blood realities of others, or tend thine own. Mine is not thy affair.
I am disgusted with this crazed censorship crusade. Watch out, they will demand Godville be edited because GOD is offensive to atheists.
Do not bow to their demands. Be bold, unafraid and unapologetic. It is just a game. This radical berserk fringe group of beyond the pale freaks will pay for their sins and crimes. Pay…dearly.
Not as deaf as I used to be. That said, paying attention is a choice. Do not bother to ask about the reality behind the divinity. As a pure fantasist and escapist, my time in the Physicality is abhorred, so when I am taking mental flights of fancy it is the last thing I would ever wish to discuss. Dogged pursuers and blatant ignorers of this fact will be cleansed from mine select company. Should they persist, shields will be put in place. You have been warned. Keep the banter Godville, or at least game, centric and all will be well.
You build a temple for yon god. You gain your god the Miracle ability. But miracles have chains of decorum bound around them in a vise like no other. Sparring. Arena. Dungeon. Miracles are heavily frowned upon in them all. Mainly because one of the miracles destroys loot in boss or rival pockets. Not cool.. But as gods with the ability, it should not be so limited. Here are so far approved uses…
Guild influence gain in town
Full heal
Obliterate monster
Gain bold artifact
Heal party (Dungeon)
Questionables
Drain xp
Heal, pray, strike twice (Arena)
Drain inventory
I just thank that miracles should not be so…hamstrung.
Perhaps instead of destroying artifacts they could just be filched.
Congratulations on reaching yon TENTH year!!! This game, there is truly nothing else quite like it. Many many more should follow yon Elder Gods’ humble but glorious example!!! Hope you have many, many more decades ahead!!!!!!
On Friends – I play campaign much more than jaw.
On Guilds – On this file, I am loyal to mine first guild, Rising Sun. A peaceful minded 30-member odd gathering doesn’t seem to be the place for a ruthless fiend, but every guild needs a little excitement, methinks.
50 logs don’t even make a skiff. I have my work cut out for me.
TEMPLE OF THE STORM – LVL 38
SPAN – 4 MONTHS 5 DAYS
HEROINE DEATHS – 6
Well done faithful supplicant. You have proven your devotion to me with yon golden toil. As promised in origin phase, you now have the power to become mine avatar.
SOULFEED START
NAME – NATHAN STREEL
QUOTE – “LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT.”
AGE – 7238
SEX – MALE
CLASS – ARCHMAGE
ALIGNMENT – CHAOTIC GOOD
FORMS – 4
I – HUMAN MORTAL
II – ICE ELEMENTAL
III – ICE DRAGON
IV – CRYOENERGY MASS
DESCRIPTORS – COLD, STOIC, RESOLUTE
ARMAMENT – CRYOSIS, SWORD OF ICE
BREATH WEAPON – HELLFREEZER
SPELL LEVEL – X (ONUS)
COLOR – ICE BLUE
HABITAT – WHISTLING SHELL, DEMESNE OF CATOPIA
THREAT LEVEL – V (IMMENSE)
DIET – OMNIVOROUS
ENEMIES -
I – ILLITERATES
II – CAT TORTURERS
III – GLOBALISTS ( ONE 🌎 UNDER DARKNESS, NO BORDERS, NO INDIVIDUALISM, CREATIVITY AND INDEPENDENCE SUFFOCATED REMAINS PRIMARY EVIL OBJECTIVE. NO ONE KNOWETH THY HOUR. REMAIN VIGILANT AND HUMBLE, TRUSTING ALWAYS IN YOUR SALVATION, THE PRECIOUS ETERNAL GIFT GRANTED BY THE ONE TRUE GOD. OPPOSE GLOBALISM AND SATANIC CORRECTNESS WITH RIGHTEOUS VICIOUSNESS)
THE THIRD MANIFESTATION
Chaos. Wrath. Endless torment, excruciating anguish, unbearable suffering. The pain of eternal loss, eternal insignificance, eternal obliteration. Abandoned, forgotten to be the sole witness to events, all of them, be they mythic or minor. Reduced to a shadow of what was form, what was the true essence of power.
But even with all this, I am still worthy. I still have an identity, a purpose, a becoming.
One can not languish in stasis forever. Time passes, and time changes all. Even someone as broken as me. Channeling all I have witnessed, I turn Time itself into power. Power to heal, Power to struggle, Power to break free.
Time is endless. So is my power. When my long overdue emergence finally happened, the world that has forgotten me can not begin to imagine the most miniscule fragment of my vengeance.
Arise, Vexith, my supplicant, my child, my will. You will be the chosen, the legend, the truth and the fantasy.
My laws are simple. Destroy all that challenge you. Reform, reshape, wrest all of existence into my image. When that image forms, it shall last longer, and be a greater legend than it has ever been before. That it ever imagined.
ORIGIN TALENT-TIMELESS-CONVERTS TIME SPENT INTO POTENTIAL
*ORIGIN TRAIT-PREVAILING SILENCE-DEAF TO ALL EXCEPT CHOSEN ONE…origin status will become more flexible with experience. Currently primary god remote is an actual Amazon Fire TV Stick 2 remote, very hard to type coherent conversations when not on alternate, ally provided device.
Supplicant, for you to gain true wisdom, you must suffer as I have suffered. Thy sacrifices will be rewarded. You will become my avatar, worthy enough for my power to inhabit your form. A merging of existences, and together in such a bond, there shall be no accomplishment too immense for us to undertake.
Perhaps you would like to know more about me, the mistress of your fate. Alas, these are your chronicles, not mine. Besides you will not ponder such things for long. All you need be is loyal, fierce, relentless, and cruel. Yours is not to wonder why. Endure long enough, and all will be clear. …
I AM A TIMELESS ETERNAL, BOUND BY NO PLAN. I AM A RANDOM CAPRICIOUS WELLSPRING OF DISASTER. KEEL, GIBBER IN FEAR, BEG FOR MERCY. I HAVE NOT EVEN YET BEGUN.
All challenges accepted. My time, not yours.
Did you know that even failed spars result in items and experience?
The trophy is nice, but it can wait.
Alas, supplicant, these are your chronicles, but stick to your diary. The curse of the dim has tragically fallen upon you. Fear not, I will help you when I am able – and when you earn it.
My, your own personal hound of hades. Train him as well as I trained you, and you both will venture far.
What, to you my champion, is defeat? What is loss, what is anguish? Resent not your failures. You learn from them, and that is important to overcome the ever suffocating curse of the dim that plagues all forms of life on this plane.
Even death here is fleeting. All your pain and suffering is for my glory. You are driven by nobler goals and a greater sense of purpose than your fellows. So it does not matter how often you falter. Numbers are meaningless to my majestic eternalness. Know this and take it to heart.
Talents – Survival, Pet endurance, Guild loyalty
Hobbies – Casual Duels, SP campaign, Scribing.
Events
Tamed first monster as a pet, Sun Dog Chewy. Grants partial immunity to sun dog attacks, random item find/loss, poison bite, electric shock, and additional random damage to monsters. Much like electric skill I have now. Could all these bolts forged an elemental affinity with my pet? Lost skill recently, but its electric enchantment is part of me now.
Ancient Chronicles of the Storm
Who else would benefit the most from such disaster but a servant of fetid, foul Death itself? In hindsight it is perfectly obvious. But during the chaos of the disaster, so much happened so fast. There was no time to stop and think. Stasis wasted lives.
Not that much could be done. Hardly anything, in fact. For deities, that was the soul of gall, a defiance they despised. They were immortals. Blame and accusations were beneath them. Shock was alien, but it was well established as the toll mounted.
So it was that the newest inductee became the focus of all their hate, rage and spite. After all, he had started this, whether he had been tricked or not. They could not deny his place though, as he was the closest and most informed of the matter. The march of death across the cosmos had to be stopped, before there was no life left to consume, and a hopeless waste of infinite creation was the tragic result.
With his help and a great mass investment of divine power, the flame of existence was kindled anew. The deaths stopped. Silence replaced the keening, grating wail of grief, a siren that had been engraved in memory and fraying sanity for far too long now.
But they were not grateful. They thought the time the needed to directly intervene was long past. The were unused to focusing their power in that manner again, and many mistakes were made and shortcomings discovered. Rather than accept such weakness, they focused resentment and rage on, to them, the obvious cause of it all. A further mistake. Not that they would ever accept that fact until it was far too late, among the aftermath, the ruins of yet another epic disaster. In the meantime, they made a pariah of him.
It is no wonder under such pressure that he would break, fragmenting into several distinct entities. The others continued in their arrogance, not deigning to notice a subtle shift in the balance of power. They were blind to what was going on, seeing only one form, one target. But in other places, more were coalescing into existence.
In the cold, barren depths of space, where no star dared to burn. In the furnace of the darkest, most suffocating abyss, the domain of billions of doomed, damned souls. The center of an endless tempest that laid waste to all in its path, no matter the item’s size or composition.
Power from these sources flowed fresh and hot as he was drowned in a river of torment. Anguish became a way of life, but also a forge in which to mold himself into something even stronger. The entities became distinct, with their own missions and perspectives.
The frozen one gained a cold and calculating mind. Sharp analytics honed to an edge akin to oblivion would ensure stunning victories and seeming miraculous reversals of fortune.
The seared one gained the white hot furnace of a never dying rage. Ruthless and relentless, it would inspire and instill resolve in fresh recruits, and give them an indomitable will to survive and claim victory in even the most hopeless, unbalanced conflicts.
The ravaged one gained an endless appetite for revenge, and the iron will to see true justice done at any cost, no matter situation or circumstance. It would possess the talents to succeed in abandoned investigations, to unearth the best hidden evidence, to piece together broken correlations and bring meaning back to lives wronged for far too long.
A cold, sharp mind. An unquenchable fire of will. A bottomless thirst for justice. Any one of these would be more than enough. Combined, they were a foe the other members could not reckon with, even if they started suspecting what was going on. None were that perceptive or fortunate. They continued in their debasement and derision. It became their life, their purpose, their profession and their recreation. They strove to throw the inductee out. The considered him a trespasser and a traitor, and wanted him expelled from their august company as soon as it could be done.
But it was not done. A beloved one had fallen, and the inductee had filled the gap and proven himself worthy. He was one of them now, and nothing could change that. Never accepted, the subject of endless scorn, the others made him a monster in their legends, terrifying their creations and making his situation even more untenable.
But while the main form seemed to suffer in silence, his other manifestations were already striking out, bringing plans to fruition. Nothing that would gain true notice or cause the slightest alarm. For the first phase, silence was an absolute.
Since their enemies were fellow members with far more experience, whatever losses befell them had to be hidden by accidents, natural predators, inherent failings, or random doom. No true source could ever be suspected.
There could not be a whisper of challenge. These were the established, obscenely wealthy and powerful. They crushed rebellions as easily as snapping twigs. There could not be anything out of place, a spy to torture, a missive to decode. What was existing to oppose them could not take substance. Substance took form and was easily detected. It was flexible, but would not serve at all here.
The disaster provided an abundance of those that lacked substance. Ghosts, wraiths, phantoms, shadows, all mulitudes of the formless. All with harbored resentment for their untimely demise. A wealth of recruits easily persuaded to defend the one who had been key in stopping what had seemed unstoppable.
They took joy in their work, and they were very effective. There was inherent respect for the fallen, and this distance gave them all the cover they needed to act according to the desires of the newly formed incarnations. To them, following their commands was the same as following the original one who had kept all from fading into oblivion.
There remained however, one insurmountable obstacle. Fate herself. Fate was not dead, and if she were bitter about what was left of her after her powers were drained, the portfolio reassembled and reassigned, and a new fledgling god risen in her place, she could bring the scheme to ruin with absurd speed. It was vital to seek her out and appeal to any remnant of her former good nature that might still exist.
There was no guarantee that such a remnant existed. The changes in Fate had been disturbing. Even without her portfolio, she had been a goddess so long that she was far from powerless. Proof was in the havoc she continued to wreak. Those targets though, were just opportunities to relieve her rage. What would she do to the one that had supplanted her?
What else but pose a challenge? An immense quest to prove the inductee worthy of his new position. He would have to accomplish this himself, without any help from his fledgling incarnations. This confirmed Fate was privy to his most vital secrets, long before he dared approach her.
But what quest was difficult for an immortal? What was more dangerous than what he already sought to do? Fate was happy to tell him. As he was responsible for the disaster, he must take up the Burden – the multitude of all the collected greivances of the unjustly slain. True, not all that had died were innocent, but the twisted way their lives had been ripped out of them – it was beyond alignment. No living thing deserved such an inhumane, cruel, and painful death. It was yet another reason the inductee was despised, so quickly and so deeply.
But because so many had died, this Burden would be the heaviest one yet seen, which would have been greatly difficult to even the ancient elder gods. What chance did a fledgling have? It was not a choice though. He dare not refuse Fate. So he set out toward the wastelands where the fallen had been gathered, where he would reveal himself as the cause of all their suffering, and in so doing, place the Burden upon his back.
What had been asked of him was devastatingly simple and forthright. He was the origin of this new tragedy and all the related mass suffering. Surely he did not deserve to be among the others if he could not take responsibility for what he had done.
He had not been a god for very long. He was not, however, unused to having a bottomless well of power, or endless eras of wisdom. He had been an ancient dragon, so such features were not as astonishing as they would have been to a human freshly ascended to godhood.
What was new was traveling through the space- time continuum at the speed of thought. It was faster than he had ever flown, and left him greatly disoriented when he rematerialized. He could not afford such unguarded moments. Absent minded and dwelling on his task, he instead lumbered down the rocky path on his familiar four clawed feet. Finding Fate’s retreat in the forlorn mountains had been easy. The path snaked away through sheer defiles and deep ravines, finally descending into the vast gravel expanse the fallen had taken for themselves, unable to be processed into their proper afterlives.
The endless mass of ghosts gathered together on that empty, sheer gray expanse testified to how daunting a task the tragedy had been. The dead had accumulated so fast their numbers overwhelmed the inexhaustible patience of Fate herself, giving her an unseemly mental breakdown and the subsequent complete leavetaking of her duties. Thankfully that had been temporary, but Fate’s portfolio could not be abandoned, and been assigned to someone else. That someone turned out to be him.
What a bitter taste it had left in the others’ mouths, that the only one eligible for such a task was also the cause. It also infuriated them that the inductee was placid and cold, so detached that none of their insults, cruel pranks or malicious gossip had any direct effect on him, besides furthering his isolation. Some had moved on to other preoccupations. But one, most notably of the most powerful rank of Elder God, was determined to punish this upstart, this pathetic mimic of the timeless grace of Fate, in the most severe of ways.
This determined one had long abandoned his identity. Face, features and form had sloughed off long ago, granting him the freedom to blend with the shadows. Indiscernible and undetectable therein, he had cultivated intense power and acquired a wealth of secrets. He had abandoned everything he used to be, but he had done it early, in the dawn of his divine infancy. Therefore his absence within the light was hardly noticed. Many in the bright realm wrongly concluded that godly power had been too much for one so frail, and that the endless energy had swallowed him whole. It made sense, but no one decided to dig deeper. It was so obvious too. If a god really had perished in such a fashion, his portfolio would have resurfaced. Though rare, obscenely strong energy reactions can consume both god and his portfolio. Protected by this “well, it must have happened that way” reasoning, the fledgling passed from brilliance into the shade while scarcely leaving a footprint. The dark dwellers of twilight were greatly impressed, and conspired to keep his secrets.
No doubt they regretted such tolerance now. Striking out with surprise and stealth, the influence of this once frail phantom had soared, earning him a place within the circle of twilight royalty, the Shadow Lords. They gave him grudging respect. He had to be admired, for his ambition was boundless. And the darkness would never betray one of its own brethren. They had been with him from the very beginning and considered him blood. That is why the betrayal had been so shocking. He had moved quickly, using his gathered secrets to effect a chain of compulsion, blackmail and treachery. When the dust had settled, he was among the lowest of the low, a Shadow Lord himself, not by any conventional ascension claim, but by a crooked path littered with slashed throats and impaled backs. No matter how much it was resented, the others could not deny him.
That was only the beginning. For the faceless one secretly hungered to conquer and rule the dimensions lit by celestial fire as well as the ones cloaked in the unearthly glow of twilight. The other Shadow Lords implored that it was not worth it, upsetting the balance would do more harm than good. But the stubborn phantom refused to listen.
In desperation, the other Shadow Lords asked Fate for her assistance. Not sure of what these dark kings expected, Fate agreed to the meeting. Bloodlust then crumbled under an even more relentless force – infatuation.
For it turned out the one thing the phantom had not been able to abandon was his heart. Struck senseless by the beauty that was Fate, a new burning desire replaced his ambition for conquest. He observed her in secret whenever she visited the other Shadow Lords. She was seeking to meet him face to face, but it was his will that the shadows continue to hide him, and his power over that realm was now so great it happily refused the others’ manipulations.
Though no one can hide from Fate for long. She easily dispelled the shadows and revealed his hiding place. Fate had been the object of desire many times before. Her powers were highly coveted. Finally confronting the phantom however, showed not the glassy eyed, jealous look of one hungering for her power. The eyes were bright and clear, a steady flame blazing in their depths. The fire of love.
Fate was faced with something she could not understand. Courting Fate is kin to courting cold mistress Death. Any foolish enough to pursue such end up destroying themselves. Fate was beautiful, but she was no temptress. There was no passion in what she did, it was pure necessity. Her much more popular and effervescent sister Destiny had teased that one day even she would find a suitable companion. It was not going to be a Shadow Lord – it couldn’t be. For Fate herself to choose a side would break a critical, fundamental law and also break down the world on all planes, both material and immaterial.I
There was no way she was going to compromise herself. She wrote a letter coldly laying out her derision, disgust and contempt at the sheer prospect. Reading this letter did not enrage the phantom. He knew the attraction was most likely one sided. The letter made it a clear fact. To the others’ immense relief, he did not fall back on his warmonging plans. Instead, a great depression over Fate’s rejection took hold, and it seemed for many days all he was capable of was sleep.
Than the unspeakable occurred, just a few days later. An event of such immense and obscene peril entire pantheons of immortality were reduced to an unbecoming state of feverish, panicked frenzy. Fate was no exception. She tried everything and if she was not the hardest worker in the struggle, none could deny she was among the highest handful.
It did not matter. It was the longest five days immortality ever experienced. A wave of death exploded the length and breadth of every world, with a force so visceral and savage it truly troubled even the mightiest, among both the heavens and the hells. No matter what was done, the power and speed of the disaster exceeded every expectation and record. It was too fast for Fate, too fast for any one.
For the first in time immemorial, the mighty gods were rendered helpless. No matter what they did, the death did not halt for a moment. It turned out no immortal could deal with this. After Fate broke down and vanished, only when the source was found and a new god elevated who could address the situation, only then was the tragedy over.
And that was only possible because as the spark that fueled the conflagration, the inductee was the only one who knew what it would truly take to stop it. So the gods listened and pooled their powers together, creating a storm of such turgid intensity even the dampest wicks would have no choice but to hold a flame.
The fire of existence was relit by that raging storm. The madness and the constant dying stopped. But the damage and the loss were of a magnitude and scope never seen before. Even the mightiest were bewildered by the vast spectacle of endless damage, a massive wreck stretching through dimensions and galaxies. Life had been altered, forever.
It just turned out that the inductee was the easiest to blame. Fresh, green, unfamiliar, and also RESPONSIBLE. No one could have asked for a better scapegoat. He was not an excuse though, he was the genuine reason. It made it all the more perfect.
Hatred became an immersive, constant sea. But from that primordial soup rose the incarnations. The phantom knew nothing of this, his admiration for Fate gave him a new frontier of rage and strength. Yet physically challenging some creature so well versed in both combat and spellcraft was a losing proposition. A phantom was no match for an ancient powerful dragon. No, his enemy’s ultimate torment had to be achieved through means much more subtle.
It would take time to plan, and the help of several of the other members of both sides. What could not be borne was this arrogant fledgeling had taken Fate’s place and powers. To the Shadow Lord, such arrogance must be punished with the utmost severity.
But time was not on their side. The incarnations were making slow but steady progress. Each step was glacial. As intended. There could be no damage, no evidence. Oblivious and busy with their own duties, the tiny steadily growing threat remained undetectable by the elect. But grow it did.
A new dawning. A new coalescing. New forms and shadows taking shape, leaving their mark on destiny. Marks could not be hidden forever. Precautions were taken, but eventually even small victories and the increasing of an ever materializing host increased tangibility and substance, even for an army of the formless.
Powers continued to grow. Discrepancies mounted, and finally, attention and investigation was paid.
Yet the first scouts did not get very far. This of course, caused more mystery. More suspicion. And eventually, more powerful and capable investigators. But by then, these modest increases in power hardly mattered. They might as well have been helpless mortal peasants.
The long legendary awaited day is nearly upon me. Ten logs from completing the legendary Ark of Storms.
A battleship enchanted with the very power of tempest will give the pirate legions and sea monsters a good what for!!!
By the time someone powerful enough, a member of the elect, chanced upon what was going on, it was far too late. Surrounded, divided, and torn down from their thrones, their powers ripped out of them with frightening ease, the elect, the host of gods became one unspeakably powerful entity.
The former elect were tossed into the weakest constructs, cages of bone, prisons of soft, easily torn flesh, and a soul, not even a ghost of the power they once commanded. Humiliated beyond scope, shocked from the process of speech, they became a mute brotherhood of brooding monks, endlessly meditating on their failure or causing themselves pain, reasoning it as the only penance they could offer…the crucible of excruciating suffering.
Vengeance had been attained. So complete was his rise to power that all but one Shadow Lord quailed before him, and begged for peace.
Infuriated at these developments, the hateful one vanished back into the neutral realms straddling light and shadow. He knew he lacked the power needed to change anything. But he would not give up. He was not those other soft, spoiled cowards. There must be a way… and he was the only one left with the motivation to find it.
The Ark must sail under its own power. Bit of a detraction. Still pretty cool.
The hateful one, brooding and disillusioned, never witnessed the storm that blew into full force in his wake.
The incarnations and their powerful armies were responsible for things going so well. Triumph attained, they had powerful positions at court, each suited to their personality.
The cold one gained the leadership of the military. The incinerated one gained the priesthood, endless fires of devotion burning for the one true deity, the only one left. The tempestuous one naturally gained the power as Adjudicator, highest official in the court of laws, where only the decision of the Dragon God King could gainsay him.
Army. Church. Court. Everything in perfect balance. But conflicts would inevitably arise. The incarnations, true reflections of different developments of Vathmados’ soul, had his same inexhaustible thirst for power.
And even the original could not prevent clashes.
The king still had his own duty to Fate. To bear the Burden, accept the guilt and shame and rage, and purge and cleanse the universe of the savage taint of massacre left burned into it by the foul servants of Death.
Death is endless and would not stop. It was a noble goal, to seek the true cause of the massacre, the one that had manipulated even the Eldest of Flame like a toy. In the past, such resolution might have appeased the angry company of the immortal elect. But tgere was no company now, noone to prove himself to. He hunted the fiend because it was the right thing to do. It would not change the ruin, the devastation, the loss. But if he taught this fiend a lesson and taught it well enough, nothing so horrific would happen again.
This was the desperate hope that drove him. The Burden weighed more than any thing before it. There was nothing to compare it to, no tragedy, genocide or atrocity had claimed so much life and done so much devastation. This was a brutal, god maddening attack on life itself. Only Death would ever benefit from so much shed blood and drained energy.
The Burden waa immense, galaxies breaking immense. Even for all the power of a god, a dragon god at that, he was slowed to a crawl as he searched for the fiend’s lair.
Time passed. Enmity between the incarnations grew as the divisions of power and territory begin to blur in manipulation, jealousy, and bouts of rage. And then, it culminated. Army, Church, and Court went to war in a vicious three way clash. The people were forgotten as they became collateral damage, and no servant of Death was to blame this time.
Enraged, Fate descended on the feuding fools, exhausting the last of her power, influence and sanity to forge peace and reason between the three factions. It was achieved, but the toll was taken, and her life, beloved, faded to oblivion.
Only a treaty now kept them from each others throats, but none of the incarnates could get Fates condescending words from their minds. They were no better than the ruthless tyrants they had deposed. The were better than this and shoukd be ashamed of themselves. What would their king think to see them squabbling over ruins and bodies like children?
Yes, what would Vathmados think?
Yet eons would go by in his absence.
After the ill begotten clash, Fate’s memorial ceremony was a grandiose and lavish affair, celebrating her life and all she had accomplished and dared to sacrifice. She had pushed herself farther than anyone else trying to hold back the crisis. Her sanity had been the price, and with no clear anchors in her mind, she could not hold on to the powers that made her a deity, nor did she have a right to.
In the wake of her passing, Destiny stepped forth, saying she would be the new steward, watching and ensuring the peace her sister gave her life for. She made it quite clear that such clashes and chaos between the incarnations she would not tolerate. Each of them, she said, owed her a portion of her sister’s life. The blood debt onus was on them, and they would never escape.
Destiny was more mysterious, far more beautiful. That beauty had caused many to underestimate her. But the rumors were true. No enemy of Destiny survived for long. Even with all the power they had, the incarnations knew they had no choice but to abide by her will.
It did not matter than none of them had any wish for Fate to perish. Blinded by bloodlust, jealousy, and other vice, each incarnal faction had sought the utter defeat of the other two. No one knew why things had gotten so bad. When war finally did break out, the people had fled to woods, mountain crags and other sanctuaries. Casualties were minimal.
Fate was a hero yet again. After the forging of the agreement, they thought they would be celebrating with her. No one ever expected her to col!apse and die. So yes, they did owe Destiny a blood debt. Another agreement was struck. Destiny became the power guiding the triumvirate. Peace reigned for seemingly eternity.
But this golden age would end.
Resentful and fueled by loathing, the Phantom had undertaken his own journey, hunting ancient and mystical secrets, forbidden rituals, dark arts, and forgotten relics buried in nameless temples and tombs. His grand journey brought him much knowledge and power. More, in fact, than any Shadow Lord had amassed before.
After eons on his own relentless quest, he finally decided it was time to unleash all his talent on the world he hated so much. The former Shadow Lords that had surrendered to the Dragon God King now each governed a province of the Twilight Realms, the land and people they knew best. They were grateful to keep their lives after seeing what had been done to the Elect.
They enjoyed peace and prosperity as much as any land in the Sunlight Realms. Until the dawning of what would come to be known as the Darkest Day.
A sudden calamity shook the land and boiled the seas. Fires broke out in random places. The energies of alien dimensions passed through every mote of existence on the planet. A sense of overwhelming doom enveloped the land. Inexplicable fear choked every throat closed.
Once the Phantom had everyone’s attention through complete silence, he cast out all his hatred in the form of a curse. Obscene runes were stamped across the equator, a belt of unspeakable and unholy speech, blaspheming all gods, all creation, all life.
The curse caused things to wither and rot. What was lush and beautiful became unforgiving wasteland. The buildings of most solid construction crumbled to ruins. The very life of this world, once the pride of the Elect, had been compromised.
The Phantom had discovered the terrible secret of the dark realm, the way to infuse the very energy of death, destruction and decay into a world. A world under such a dreadful curse would continue to die, degree by degree, until not the least spark of life could thrive there. The end would be a barren, cold, cheerless, ugly, and truly lifeless realm, the ultimate opposite of what had been.
And these ancient and horrible curses were so well hidden, guarded or forgotten for a reason. They worked at a speed few could comprehend when they were fresh, and. could not be imagined now. in terrible truth, only a handful of days would pass before the paradise of the elect became a frozen graveyard.
Such a miserable and fiendish curse was from the halls of Death itself. The Phantom’s attack hac been extreme heedless and loud, every ounce of his built up loathing released in that one terrible spell. And loud things get noticed.
Even so far away and preoccupied, Vathmados could sense when something had gone drastically wrong with the realm he established and presided over.
For the first time in an expanse of aeons, something was more important than the Burden, impossible as that seemed. Or was it? The long years of struggle and penance turned the weight into the energy of redemption, making the load lighter. in truth, it was almost gone when the hellish pained cry of a world so abominally afflicted reached him.
What was troubling that despite all that searching, the lair of the fiend was not found. But that could wait. All he had left behind was in danger of extinction. He had to do something quickly.
Even as a dragon, he had seen these ancient dread curses before. They were malevolent and vile, problems for even dragons then. The fragile people of the now cursed world would have no chance.
With the Burden forgotten, and almost gone regardless, he hid it in a nearby star. Speed restored, he raced through the well trodden blackness in a flash. Not towards the world or the Phantom afflicting it. No, those were just products. The fiend was the source, responsible for all this great devastation and crisis. Well that’s where it truly started. That’s where the Elect should have placed blame. But those gods were vain and confused, and even now in mortal forms were not entirely defunct. No matter. The fiend was the beginning. That’s where this had to end.
He had to find it. Soon.
As the great dragon flew he chanted a spell he had never had the cause to use before. It was a forbidden summoning incantation his elders and their elders had warned about. But as a young dragon, he rebelled and read many a grimoire he wasn’t supposed to. Still, he was not naive. This spell did not use spiritual energy but physical health as its fuel. As a god with now endless reserves of health, their should not be a risk. But even if there was, there was hardly any time left to do anything else.
Great weakness suddenly struck as the magical incantation materialized. A fire burned in his blood, in his mind. A hungry fire, devouring him from the inside, taking his health and swallowing it whole.
The pain was excruciating. The more the fire ate, the deeper its hunger and higher the flames rose. He now knew why the warnings had been so strident. A mere dragon doing this would burn out his life and end up a charred skeketon in a few hours.
Still, he braced himself. He may be immortal, but this still hurt terribly. Concentrating with his mind’s eye, he telepathically reached inside himself, into the flames, focusing not on the pain, but the massive, endless hunger, a new awakened source of power. Reaching beyobd the flames, into the jaws of that hunger, he blocked out the agony as he sought to harness this force.
He reached deep down the maw, past endless hunger, furious breath, past organs and bones till his claws locked around the essence, the spirit of the fury itself. Roaring madly, he began to pull, and pull harder. When his hand emerged from the monster clutching his prize, the monstrous pain had died. The monster had been turned inside out. Without its soul, it was a lifeless shell that could not torment him. And then true, pure power, without pain, radiated through him. This had taken long enough.
With all his might he turned and hurled a ball of this blinding iridesence toward the stricken planet. it ate up the billions of miles of darkness in seconds, then slammed into the world. There was a flash. What followed was not discerned at once. the pure light sank directly into the foul, dark runes of death stamped around the equator in a belt of woe, and in a burgeoning magic explosion of colors beyond the visible spectrum, the terrible curse was undone. The backwash caught the phantom, still gloating over his handiwork, and injured him severely. Enraged but weak, he could only limp away through the darkness. it would take him time, and energy to find a refuge, and even then he would rest fitfully, great pain threatening his conciousness. he had no idea what had happened. Something had completely blindsided him. Something very powerful. He gritted his teeth. Who else could it be?
Even after all this time, he was no match for that cursed dragon. If he had never been inducted into divine company Fate would have never died. All his anger and hatred boiled and festered. All this power, to gain the dread power of Death to end it all. The fiend’s counsel had been helpful. When he first started this journey, he had no concrete goals, only to get more powerful. And now he was. But obviously not powerful enough.
His shattered body sung with agony. What kind of spell had that been? Then he knew, since it was so unfamiliar. Ancient dragon magic. Raw, pure, terrible power that could maim and slay like no other power commanded by living beings. But he was not just a dragon now, but a god as well. It had broken the limits on forbidden dragon powers and spells.
The Phantom winced as he realized. He was lucky to cling to life at all, to still exist after such a spell. But the spell hadn’t hit him. It had hit the curse. He had just been caught in the explosion. If the full might of that spell had hit him… he wouldn’t just be dead. He would be eradicated.
This was out of his depth. Ancient secrets wasn’t enough power or a worthy price to waste his life. He needed something that would give him a real chance. Once he was able, he would seek an audience with Death itself. Not it’s minions and messengers.
The keeper of all the dead’s secrets was the only one who coukd reveal the taboo knowledge of dragons and gods and kings.
Meanwhile, the draconic deity had shouldered the Burden and resumed his search for the fiend. Saving the world did not absolve him from Fate’s charge. He had no idea Fate was gone. Sometimes he wondered. So much time had passed. Gods are immortal. So too the incarnations. Even the elect, imprisoned as they were, still had unnaturally long lives. But the people? The fabric of the realms was as fragile as they had always of been. Thousands of centuries meant hundreds of individual seperate lifetimes. Was there still peace? Or was he just myth or memory now? When his task was complete, what would he find?
It didn’t matter. He knew the world was better than it had ever been under the draconian grip of the Elect. All his suffering and planning had not been for nothing. The only true challenges to the three incarnations rested among themselves. And him, the True Self of course.
Then a horrible thought struck him. If the incarnations warred amongst themselves, the sheer power of their struggles would upheave both land and people he had preserved. Surely such a thing would not happen. Then he rememembered the clashes before he left, despite establishing balance as best he could. In his absence….yes. It was very probable. And that absence had been long and deep. What if the incarnations were no longer loyal? What if, like the Elect, they now serve only themselves?
He would finish his duties. Then he would return. He would set everything right again. He would choose no other path.
He knew saving the world had borne great and unexpected fruit. His power had touched the fiend, wounded him. There is now nowhere it could go he could not pursue. He would catch it. It was inevitable now.
But he would be foiled again. The Phantom could not outrun him. But he was not the fiend he sought. Though his actions more than qualified him as one himself. Unfortunately for the Phantom, this interruption prevented him from calling on Death, the Fatal Incarnate. He had no further advantages to use, and he was in no shape to use them if he had them. All he had left were his wits, and the huge amount of lore he knew from his many quests among the ruins and temples of forgotten lands.
But he was pleased to know he knew things the dragon didn’t. Like the death of Fate, and the terrible civil feuds that had caused it. To see that visage turned pale…it thrilled him, but he gave no sign. It seems they both shared the same obsession, or love even. The Phantom though, did not forget the true cause of Fate’s..fate. When he was that scaled bag mortal, he had slain Furiar, which had started the storm that would eventually drive Fate out of her mind. Then he inherited the portfolio of her own very powers! Lastky, his beastly… incarnations had forced her to the last of her limits without her powers and exhausted her very life. Destiny had been too lenient. If he shared blood with Fate, and had Destiny’s vast powers he would have killed all three of the fools, and enjoy doing it.
His worst suspicions realized. The Burden was far more important, but he never thought his own incarnations would imperil the people. They had suffered enough at the hands of the Elect! What was all this vast power for, if not to protect them?
Power chafes and corrupts. The incarnations had obviously held their offices too long. The solution was simple. He would demand they abdicate their thrones. Leading by example, he would do so as well. The world would become the responsibility of the people. After overthrowing the Elect, the immense powers of the incarnations were not needed. At least not on mortal soil.
He would gather them together and pursue their next mission. The nameless fiend, servant of death that was the origin of so much suffering. This foe of all life must pay. He would not escape with the search effort tripled. And in this way the incarnations could pay for their terrible mistakes in the king’s absence.
The people would not yet be ready to fully govern themselves, and no doubt the deposed would try to seize power, either overtly or from the shadows. Until a true formidable structure could be built, a guide would be needed. He had decided as he heard the sad tragedy of Fate’s demise from the phantom. Destiny was most worthy to be assigned such an immense task, and her power would serve as a natural deterrent.
His plans made, one question remained. What to do with this hostile creature that called itself a phantom. Vathmados did not know his true identity, but even under a guise of immense power and age, he felt something familiar. And he had been warned there was one Shadow Lord that chose to flee rather than surrender to him. What was before him now had to be that bitter soul. He could sense the waves of palpable hatred radiating from the wizened, weakened form.
He couldn’t be left alone to spread more havoc. The terrible spell of decay he had cast proved him a dangerous threat. Yet he didn’t want to kill him. He deserved imprisonment or banishment, but as closely allied as he was with Death, killing him would call more dark attention and trouble. Exactly what he did not need as he hunted the fiend.
once again the solution was simple..he would simply become Destiny’s prisoner. There were many tricks and ancient seals Destiny had taught her younger sister Fate, and they would be far more powerful coming from the original source. no mortal or former elect had any power near enough to free the phantom once Destiny sealed him.
This was a lot to ask of her though. By necessity he should preface it with apology and sympathy. No one expected Fate to die, and that included him, the inheritor of her portfolio and rise to a new god. all because of her. things could have gone very wrong. Destiny could easily have killed all three incarnations and taken the world for herself. But she was mysterious and distant, and her anger grew slowly. He knew he was long overdue, Burden or not, and must seek her out as the first thing to do when he set foot on the World of the Elect again.
No time like the present. Taking the corpse weak phantom in an iron grip, he sped toward the world he had left many ages ago. All that searching. That relentless dogged probing among the cold and nebulas and stars. He had expended massive effort and power, but he had found no traces of the minions of Death. And why should he? Death was an entirely different plane of existence. Just because he had ascended to godhood didnt mean he suddenly had the abilities necessary to interact or successfully track or anything else related to demise, decay, and desist.
He had learned this the hard way, but now that it was clear he headed back as fast as possible to the world he had taken from the elect. He had many explanations to give and things to set right.
First of all though, before anything else, he paid a somber visit to Fate’s grave. The Burden was barely the mass of a paperweight now. His struggles and searches hadnt been in vain. Deeply concerned with the immense and tragic nature something as simple as murdering Furiar was, he had addressed each grievance as best he could, listening to all the rage, pain, grief and sorrow.
And that was what these various victims needed. To be heard. To be listened to. One by one the gathered ghosts vanished from they gray expanse outside the mountain retreat, Fate’s former home.
The phantom sulked, imprisoned, angry but weak. He knew better then to try anything. Absorbing the greatest Burden ever had given the dragon god king immense new power. Had the phantom known, he would never have done something as foolish as draw his attention. There was just no comparison. Digging around in ancient ruins would never give him the same level of power, even if he was now indeed the greatest Shadow Lord ever. Let alone even greater power to overcome him. So he brooded, and tried to focus what power he did have on his crippling wound. It was a slow process regardless.
And then a new and terrifying presence was felt.. Silent.. Oppressive.
It is well that you came here first.
He turned, taking in the silent, august beauty of Destiny.
My failures have caused this.. I should have taken more strident measures before I left.
The result would have been the same.. Without you, they would be drawn, to naturally challenge each other.
Then.. i am to blame.
No.. She gave you the Burden.. She sent you on an impossible chase.
No.. She gave you the Burden.. She sent you on an impossible chase.It wasn’t purposeless.. I have resolved…
No.. She gave you the Burden.. She sent you on an impossible chase.It wasn’t purposeless.. I have resolved…Your purpose was to apprehend the cause of this nightmare.. The fiend.. Is that the one.?
No.. She gave you the Burden.. She sent you on an impossible chase.It wasn’t purposeless.. I have resolved…Your purpose was to apprehend the cause of this nightmare.. The fiend.. Is that the one.?The phantom recoiled. So this was Destiny. He could tell she was angry.
No.. This one.. Is another matter.
No.. This one.. Is another matter.Then why are you here?
No.. This one.. Is another matter.Then why are you here?I came to take the incarnations with me.. They will trouble you no longer..
No.. This one.. Is another matter.Then why are you here?I came to take the incarnations with me.. They will trouble you no longer..A penance. They have done nothing but tiptoe around me lately. A direct dressing down from their true leader, yes that will do nicely. Its nice they are deathly afraid of me. Its flattering. But as you will see, it reduces productivity. For the time that terrible curse spell was in place, literally rotting everything…this world took significant damage.
No.. This one.. Is another matter.Then why are you here?I came to take the incarnations with me.. They will trouble you no longer..A penance. They have done nothing but tiptoe around me lately. A direct dressing down from their true leader, yes that will do nicely. Its nice they are deathly afraid of me. Its flattering. But as you will see, it reduces productivity. For the time that terrible curse spell was in place, literally rotting everything…this world took significant damage.If you need their power I can wait.
No. At this point it would be easier and quicker to use my own power. Go meet your…incarnations. You will see what I mean.