Ages Eternal [IC] (Ages Eternal) Obus

Eellae was happy, yet a little sad. Her 'friend' was more than ready for this. He was a little annoying, but all in all having Mutare was better than being alone... But it was time. Eellae wasn't going to pretend to know if he was 'sorry' or 'repentant', though Refcaskha didn't need to know that. She had her end of the bargain to keep up.

"Well, Mutare, our time together was great. But it is time for you to be free. Lets do this again soon, okay? Next time you commit mass murder, you know where I'll be!" At that, Mutare was immediately ejected from the bubble high into the air with great force. Being thrown into the sky, Mutare fell and landed on a strange, uninhabited island.

@ChelonianCommander
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It has been 30 years since the war with Tuaru. The Orcs of Urzegibir marched on there enemy, and were smote down by superior weaponry. Surviving warriors were taken as slaves, leaving Urzegibir in utter shambles. The Humans of Tuaru put the warriors to work forever in the mines as penance for there aggression, as a matter of preventing future attacks. If Malacir, young strong of the Small-toothed Clan has anything to say about it, it will fail...

Malacir dragged himself away from the mines, to the cave they turned into a barracks for the workers. His bones ached and his soul hurt. But in his eyes was hope. Hope for the future, hope to crush the humans once and for all. His brothers looked toward him. it was time. Drawing shivs and chisels, the group of 20 or so orcs plan was clear. Kill the guards, take their equipment and turn the barracks and mines into a fort with which to launch their ambitious revenge.

Jalv was the first to die. Without him, no one could watch Miasog's back, so he would fall next. Exhausted, Malacir realized what was happening. it would be he who did not survive. He knew it was over.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small human girl off to the side, cowering in a corner from the blood and chaos. Malacir rushed at the young human, whom he recognized as the wardens daughter. He know the warden, who already screamed, would be the only one fast enough to stop him. The warden's sword was thrust all the way through Malacir, but not before the warden also took a knife to the throat.

Malacir laid dying, barely conscious, on a pile of orc bodies, burning. His last words were merely a prayer...
 
1700 years went by and the first of the 45000 surviving Quash had landed on the shores of Obus of wooden boats and rafts. When they arrived, they were were low on food and supplies. With little to eat from their boats, the Quash quickly made their ways inland. They traveled along the coast, hunting game and any unfortunate sailors that they come across to fill their stores. It wasn't until they reached a jungle deep in Obus where they made their claim in this new land. They settled in that jungle and began to spread and rebuild in that jungle home, forming a new city they call Tlaxca. There they continued what they usually did while in their old home. They expanded little by little, hunted and fended off all invaders, growing to a population of nearly ~1440000 individuals. They were now stronger, their cities grander and more numerous. Their armies had become larger and better armed as they began to invest into stronger weapons and armor and their larders swelled. Still with all their success they were trapped on the island. Their scouts and hunting parties have discovered many creatures their little empire were incapable of defeating on an offensive front. The Elves, Orcs, Golems and even humans were too numerous for them to face and thus they kept to themselves. Staying hidden within their jungles, mastering the art of poisons and ambush warfare.

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With Mutare's 3000 year imprisonment done he was told by this warden that she enjoyed their talks. A sentiment that he didn't share. She wasn't grating, but the talks only served to waste time. Time he could have been using for much better things. He was launched from his bubble prison and into the sky. He didn't have an experience with flight, as he much preferred the comfort of tunnel and earth so Mutare was helpless as he lands onto Obus's wilderness. He stands to look around at the dense jungle and wondered where Eellae had thrown him. It wasn't long until he was found and to his surprised he was found by the Quash, his creations designed to protect his Garden. He didn't know why they where there but he didn't have time to say as he quickly became the prisoner of the gods to the prisoners of his own creations, who forced him to come with them to their city of Tlaxca. There he was taken to the chambers of high priest where he was questioned and beaten for days. He didn't fight back or attempt to escape he wasn't much of a fighter. They beat him with wooden and stone clubs and prodded him with sharpened sticks. They blamed him for what happened to their home. 3000 years wasn't enough for them to forgive their gods for abandoning them and forcing them to journey to these foreign lands. Mutare was finally asked why and he told them the truth. Their creation, their purpose, their non-existent gods and the reason for their abandonment. Rightfully shaken the Quash then went to figure out what to do with this information while keeping Mutare in a dark cell, regenerating after his beatings and stabs.. While the god detested being in a cell, he did not expect his creations to spread out this far into the world. He wondered if the other Quash on Idain have also spread throughout the country. This intrigues him and he decides to play prisoner for a little longer, if only to see how the Quash would adapt to the knowledge of their god, creation and purpose before moving back to Idain.
 
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The war with the orcs was, surprisingly, profitable for the Obus humans. Slavery had never been a popular practice in Obus, but that was more due to the fact that they had had very little to enslave in the first place. Records show that when the humans first arrived upon Obus their numbers were too few, and since then the practice had somewhat died out. It was only with the influx of Idainian influence and the recent war with the orcs that the practice had risen again.

Any and all orcs that could be captured were, and the species were raised within concentration camps all over the Tuaruan lands for the purpose of work. Orcish slaves soon became a common site amongst areas of construction, defined by their red collar of vengeance as their human masters had them put to use.

However, there have been rumours lately. Of a prophecy made by one of the hidden orcish mystics still with the captured orcs. Questioning resulted in the description of a hero to free the Orcs and return them to their brethren , carve out a new name for their people. In response, the humans cracked down. All orcs were screened for any sign of magical talent and were quickly sequestered away into the Order, to be raised and taught by the priests there.
 
In the darkness, somewhere, there was discontent. The offending source of this discontent was so far away... Yet intolerable. Impossible to ignore. An unconscious force, formless and without mind, was full of unstoppable, immeasurable rage. From beyond the cosmos, spirits passed and prayers were heard. And suddenly, a shout, like the snap of thunder and roar of earthquakes, was heard...

Dreams were had, and visions seen. A child, in some camp, was born wreathed in grey smog. The parents hid this child, presumably a boy, away, and kept it secret from all. Even the boy himself...

But Durbul was sure he knew. He Knew he was that boy, the father of all orcs incarnate. He would lead his people to freedom and power. Tuaru would burn under his feet for the sin of daring to challenge the god of domination.

Having ran away from the Red Order, Durbul was willing to do more then the others, the still broken slaves around him. Standing tall, He came out of the mines, and the others looked at him and his followers. hope filled them. Beside Durbul were his two most loyal followers. Sharn was his wife, married only recently. Gol'k was his half brother, who never knew their mother.

Durbul had everything he needed. This would be more ambitious then even fathers attempt, but better in execution. They would only need the miners of this camp to join their band of followers. It was only after a long speech ending in his proclamation that all would join him and be free that an older Orc spoke back; "How we know? Why is you not false like all those before you? Only difference I see is you not have silver tongue!!"

Durbul drew a sword at that, repeating his proclamation. It was clear that he was truthful in the way he put it; they had no choice here. Durbul was dominant, all others would submit...

And so started Durbul's uprising against Tuaru.
 
3000 years were a mere blink of the eyes for the immortal Elves. Their realization of time was different from the other races that inhabited Obus and as a result the Elves took their time. In their infinite wisdom they had hurried along, however; having finished the Temple and the city that became their capital in less than 2500 years. The Elves had named their capital Lathessía and it had stuck. The capital's waterways and aqueducts seemingly small next to the titanic towers and palaces they had built. Yet, nothing rivaled the Temple in beauty or height; the Temple being built of the purest of materials and its center pillar ornamented and glowing with their goddess's divine magic. One could always see a quite large group of Elves praying and revering their goddess; situated on top of the pillar, her entire being perfectly recreated and continuously glowing with a divine beauty that left all those who saw it in awe. The Elves were proud; the goddess herself had come and shed tears as she witnessed the temple's reveal. She had blessed all those who attended and then vanished again; promising to return in the Elves their time of need; be it small or major.

Tauren was walking through her palace's hallways; her footsteps echoing as her feet brushed over the with silver infused, perfectly white floor plates. Deeply in thought as she strolled towards the solarium in which her most trusted and most loyal friends and servants were waiting for her. 'In such a short amount of time we managed to do so much; yet our main goal still remains in the shadows...' Sighing and with a small gesture of her hand the big, white doors opened and revealed the solarium; a huge. domed room with a roof of the clearest glass. A intricate design of silver and other materials were laid into the floor and its design had cast a beautiful and mesmerizing play of deep blue and bright white shades. Tauren's crown lit up as she entered the room; showing off her status and divine purpose.

"My dear advisers and friends, we stand here - once again - to debate about the past aggression between the people of Obus." She announced as she gracefully walked towards her seat. Her seat, in fact; was made by Anya, who was assisted by the Elves' their best crafts- men and women. It was made of the purest of silver and infused with the whitest and purest of gems. Quite a waste of gems, Tauren herself had said but Anya had told her that she deserved it. So, when Tauren sat down she smiled upon her advisers and friends and nodded at them in a noble- and respectful manner. Small floating balls of pure light floated about, illuminating the darker parts of the solarium; even thou the sun's rays still did the majority of the work. The result was a warm and pleasant temperature with the sun's warm light embracing their fair skin. "As you are all aware, the land has suffered under the past aggression between Orcs and Man." Most of the advisers nodded, whilst Anya only looked at Tauren; a small smile crowning her pretty face. "-Now, as a result we have had to reinforce our defensive wards..." Wards were, in fact, used by the Elves to physically ward-off any and all trespassers. For those who were unannounced and unwished, encountering a defensive ward was as if they walked against a 'invisible' wall. "-And our Farseers have been working around the clock to gain intel on the Orcs and their movements." It was then that Anya gracefully raised a hand and announced; "My Lady-..." She bowed her head in respect before continuing; "I speak for all the Mages - the Farseers amongst them -, when i announce that we have been unable to detect any immediate threats to Lathessía or any of our other cities." She smiled happily before lowering her hand again.

Tauren only smiled as she thanked her; "Thank you, that means a lot." She then looked around; waiting for any of her Elven advisers to speak up, only to be interupted by Anya; "B-But... We have been able to detect rather... erratic and foreign energies, that seem to be moving around on Obus." A blush seemed to crown her cheeks as she spoke and Tauren had noticed it. So when she asked about these 'erratic' and 'foreign' energies, she focussed on Anya, who replied; "Well... we have been unable to determine any exact locations, but we are trying our hardest." The blush disappeared from Anya's face; determination taking its place as Tauren nodded at her, which was a clear sign of appreciation.

"Well then, if there is nothing else that needs my immediate attention, i'd like to retreat to my personal quarters." Tauren said and stood up; glancing up through the solarium's glass roof before turning around and walk back towards the big, white door. "Anya, please come with..." She said and made the same hand gesture that had opened the door; and this time, it once again opened and let both her, the queen, and the queen's most trusted friend through. It closed afterwards; leaving the queen's advisers behind in silence.

"My queen, these new energies are rather... troubling..." Anya immediately said as they walked through the hallway. The floor they were on was the same one as the solarium was situated on. The queen's palace was only surpassed by the Temple in height and as of such both Tauren and Anya could look down at the courtyards; Elven warriors training and participating in combat simulations.

"I know that, Anya." Tauren replied as they walked down a gracefully-crafted flight of stairs. "Is there a way to increase, or so to say, boost the Farseers' their abbility to see the unseen..?" She asked as they began to walk down yet another flight of stairs.

"I believe so, my lady. Finding out how will be of the utmost priority for me." Anya answered and smiled at her queen; happy that she had received yet another challenging task.

"Good, i believe in you." Tauren said; tilting her head back towards Anya; standing still on the stairs for just a moment. She felt proud; her blood rushing through her veins and her eyes wide and appreciative. Suddenly, the sound of commands being yelled and the stomping of feed echoed over the capital's many courtyards; its impressive sound ever amplifying due to the capital's many towers and well-shaped structures.

"What is that..?" Tauren wondered; forgetting that Anya was close and suddenly being remembered by that as her most trusted friend spoke; "Well, i believe it today is the day on which we planned to test our capital's defensive capabilities, my lady."

Tauren chuckled sweetly; her eyes twinkling with pride as she looked at Anya once more; "Good. Lets try to find a spot to witness it from, hmm?" Her voice was filled with anticipation and joy; loving the excitement of such a big event. All Anya did was chuckle and nod; leading her queen down towards the floors on which, in case of a attack or siege, the city's defenses would be coordinated. As they strolled through the hallways they slowly began to notice strange pipes and other magically vibrating machinery that seemed to originate from the room towards which the two were walking. Anya didn't even mind; only amused by her queens interest in it. "You know, my lady; these works allow us to control the city's means to defend us, and as of such, itself." She looked proud; having been a big part of constructing all that.

"Well, i am excited to see how it works." Tauren noted just as they reached a thick, grey door next to which two strange cylindrical doors were fitted into the wall. "What are those for..?" Tauren asked; feeling rather... dumb and surprisingly unknowing when it came to the current state of their technology.

"Allow me to demonstrate, my lady." Anya said and used her divine magic to activate the keystone, which was mounted in the exact middle, just above the thick. grey door. "Now, don't fret for what you are about to see will be our guardians in case of a attack." Suddenly, with hissing sound of air being released, the two cylindrical doors opened and revealed that which had been hidden inside.

"Constructs..." Tauren said in awe; smiling at Anya; "I take it this was your idea..?" Pride dominated her voice as she witnessed how the two constructs floated in the air. Both of the constructs were in fact a sphere of pure, divine magic that acted as its core from which it operated. The 'core', so to say, was protected by a intricate pattern of an alloy the Elves had developed. Said alloy was comprised of pure silver and the same material from which the Elves had crafted their armor. The core's pure, white light emanated through the holes in the intricate pattern and at its front was a eye-shaped hole through which a more intense light shone. Tauren pointed at it and asked Anya; "What is the meaning of the eye?" Her voice was filled with curiosity and Tauren noticed that Anya seemed to be enjoying her queens interest.

"Through that eye the construct can shoot a concentrated burst of divine magic." Anya said and snickered as she continued; "Its very, very lethal and kills instantly."

Tauren's eyes widened and without thinking she took a step back, to Anya's surprise.

"My lady, you need not fear them. Only those with whom we are at war or any purely evil being will cause the Eyes to engage." She smiled and stepped forward towards one of the spheres and patted its pattern, smiling happily; "They won't harm you, in any case. They simply can't." She then made a gesture with her hand and both of the Eyes returned to their sockest, in which they deactivated but remained ever vigilant. Anya then pointed at the keystone and said; "That stone there is activated if anything evil creeps near. We'll be quite save." She then grabbed her queen's hand and said joyously; "But let's hurry; the event will be coordinated from the room behind this door and i'd love to show you some more of the things we came up with." Her eyes twinkled with childish curiosity.

Tauren simply chuckled when she felt how Anya grabbed her hand and pulled her with; not at all minding how personal her best friend got. When she noticed the twinkle in Anya's eyes she laughed out loud, saying; "I simply love how much you love these kind of things. It is truly refreshing, Anya." They then stepped through the door; only to reveal a big room with several cylindrical doors that, as Tauren suspected, each held one of these 'Eyes' she just encountered. "Impressive..." She muttered before she was pulled towards the balcony, from which she could see a the main street that leads to the temple. "Its beautiful from up here..." Tauren noted and chuckled happily; "I wish i had found out about this little project of yours earlier..." The balcony on which they stood extruded from the palace and was supported by several thick. arched pillars. Elves were running around, entering strange, glass-domed towers, momentarily disappearing from the queen's sight, only to appear inside the dome. Tauren focussed her gaze on one of the towers and smiled when she noticed how the Elf was laying on his stomach; his hands surrounded by a aura of blue, divine magic that seemed to pour into a barrel that extruded from the glass dome.

"Impressive... very impressive..." Tauren simply muttered, only to receive a playful nudge from Anya who said; "Wait untill we commence the test..." She chuckled mischievously. "It'll be up to you to initiate, my lady." Anya notified her queen. She chuckled and placed a hand on Tauren's shoulder as she continued; "Just say the word, and we'll do the rest." She removed her hand after she was done talking and looked at her queen as she took a last step forward; now standing next to Tauren; her rightful place as her most trusted friend. Together they looked out upon the mesmerizing Elven capital city of Lathessía.

After a couple of seconds Tauren still gazed over the city as she said; "Initiate the test..."
 
For several days Mutare was 'locked' in his cell. After explaining to the Quash's interrogators the cold truth of their creation, and their false religion the God of Evolution had found himself alone. He was bored but stayed since he wished to see how his creations would adapt. It was a cold night when the leader of the Quash, a Blue Quash named Xili. He stood tall and proud, and wore a colorful feather headdress, necklaces and rings made of gold, silver and jade, sewn rainbow colored cloak to distinguish himself from the other Quash. He is escorted by two of his personal Bodyguards, two Red Quash wearing ornate clothing and carrying the finest of weapons. The Quash representative stares into Mutare's eyes, or where the eyes would be before speaking.

"My people told me that you have revealed some truths to them. Truths that I personally find hard to believe or understand. I have come to investigate these claims for myself." He tells the 'god'. To him, Mutare didn't look all that threatening. He looks like an old hermit, wearing a coat to keep out the weather and a mast to hide his wrinkled face. A creature like this cannot possibly their creators. "I am going to ask you several questions. You will answer. Do you understand?" He asks and Mutare replies

"Understood. Questions for answers." said Mutare. Xili could feel a bit of discomfort in his spine at Mutare's unnaturally deep voice.

"Very well. First let us see if these claims are true. First you claim yourself to be a god. How can you prove it to be true?" Asks Xili

"Cannot prove. No need to." Mutare replies and Xili's eyes squints at Mutare's refusal.

"Then how can you prove yourself to be a god? Why should I or anyone else believe anything you claim? You claim yourself to be a god, and yet you REFUSE to show off your powers. You are trapped in this cell, under out imprisonment. If you wish to escape then do it. Destroy the cell. Break the walls, kill my guards do whatever you need to in order to escape. Show off your powers and then we might begin to believe you." He tells Mutare and Mutare waits a while before replying.

"Simple. No need to. Do not need to prove god. Simply here to observe. Not interfere unless needed." He replies and Xili, while he didn't get the answer he wanted, knew this was a start to getting some damned answers.

"Observing what? Us?" He asks and Mutare nods

"Observe creation. See how adapts." Mutare replies

"Adapts to what? This new land? Our Exodus? " Xili asks and once again Mutare nods.

"Adapts to new situation. Adapts to new environment. Adapt to new knowledge."

"Adapt? Then if what you say is true then this was a test? To see how would we would do in such a situation? If that is true then what how would you grade us? Did we pass?"

"Pass? No. But had not failed." Said Mutare and Xili's mood turns from content to confusion and frustration. The Quash were forced to run their homelands. They travelled across the seas in the thousands in rafts and boats. They landed on this new world and for millennia have been making the land their own and he told then they have not failed, yet the had not passed.

"Speak clearly 'god'. One cannot pass if one has failed, and one cannot fail if one has passed. We have settled this land and are growing strong. We thrive in this new land, and we will become strong enough to return to our homeland and retake it from the poisonous flying beasts."

"Pass? No. Thrive? No. Did not adapt. Look around. Started in jungle. Ended in jungle. Survive. Yes. Thrive. No. Pass tests. No. Fail tests. No. Become content. Still time to pass. Still time to fail." Said Mutare and the gears began to turn in Xili's head. The creature said some very interesting things. He will need to think on these comments for a while before visiting Mutare again.

"You will stay here for now am I correct? You will continue to observe us?" He asks and Mutare nods. Xili nods back before taking his leave.
 
The waves made her feel as if she was being pushed up into the sky; the contents of her stomach rumbling and tumbling all about. Yeah; she was going to be nauseous if these waves kept on bashing her about. Her eyes widened as she saw yet another big wave; quickly retreating back towards the cabin that had been cleared for her. Her two guards; both of them highly skilled Elven swordsman, stood watch next to the magically infused, wooden door.

"Keep an eye on the waves... if you don't hear from me i've probably been washed away..." She spoke in the Elven language; her voice filled with terror and dread. As soon as she closed the door all the sounds of the waves and tumbling of water were shut out; all that was left was the rolling of the ship. She knew she had a good captain; but still she felt like she was dying. She was sent out to scout; the Elven Farseers pushing her to find out anything that was relevant when it came to the strange and erratic energies they had picked up. Once again scolding the sea she sat down on her chair; only to fall off as yet another wave tried to devour the elegant and gracious Elven ship.

"They need to improve their designs..." She thought to herself; annoyed by the ships tendency to be thrown around like a leaf in the wind. When she tried to get up she heard the stomping and running of Elven boots on the wooden planks above her. Her heart began to race; never before having heard the combination of the rolling waves and the fear-filled screams of Elven soldiers. She mustered what power she had left and got up; bracing herself for another rolling wave as she stumbled towards the door; only to have it thrown open right into her face;

"Miss, stay in the cabin!" The Elven soldier said; only to suddenly turn even whiter than he already was; excusing himself; "I-I am so sorry, miss..." He said; his eyes filled with despair as he looked at Faylen; "We... We spotted... We spotted ships..." His face turned even whiter; "And... And they're filled with darkness!" He then immediately turned around and ran back on-deck. The captain suddenly yelled that he could count up to five ships that were all covered in darkness.

Faylen's eyes had widened even more; having stepped out of the cabin she was hit with the same humid and necrotic feeling she had felt when she had faced the monster all those millennia ago. Fear filled her heart as the thunder struck and she felt like she was being overwhelmed. The darkness being to much for her to handle she slowly stepped back into the cabin; heeding the swordsman's advice. The last thing she saw was how the two Elven swordsmen stood in front of the door, their long-hilted swords unsheated and at the ready whilst their white helmets shining brightly in the moon's cold light and she heard how the captain stood above her; feeling his presence at the wheel. The only other thing she could feel was the intensifying storm; thunder rumbling and causing her cabin to vibrate; make her heart race ever so much.

"Stay there; miss. You are too important for the Farseers..." The swordsman who had told her to stay inside said and then looked forward again; his blue eyes dominated by a grim glimmer as he readied himself to die in service of his queen. The other swordsmen grabbed the door's handle and shut it; leaving Faylen inside.

Faylen sank down onto her knees as soon as the door closed; praying to her goddess for the guidance and strength she needed to survive. Yeah; she was using her innate gift as Elf to directly beg her goddess for strength and guidance; and made sure to ask her to help those who protected her too...
 
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A small party of boats far the warmth of Tlaxca, wending through the ocean as the storm churned the waves. This did not frighten the Quash. They all had blue scales, gills on their neck and webbed hands and feet. They were build for the water from the moment they hatched. There were five Quash boats, and each one was filled with 6 Quash, with one dragging the boat behind themselves with a rope. It was an archaic way to traverse the sea but it was enough for the Quash. The night might as well be day as they could clearly see a slender vessel with smooth sides. The ship doesn't seem to be doing well in the storm. All the better for the raiders. They moved towards the vessel with caution, as they were sure the vessel's crew wouldn't be able to see in the stormy night. However they seemed to be wrong when they saw one of the crewmen look over the side spotted the party among the wave and runs to alert his peers. With their element of surprise lost, the Quash grabbed their hooks, spears, clubs, and javelins before immediately abandoning ship.

They turned over the boats to reveal their blue bottoms and went for the cover of water. From there they would begin their attack. Using their hooks to climb the sides of the ship, appearing from every direction to overwhelm their victims in a violent ambush.
 
The captain screamed in Elvish as he unsheathed a long dagger; swinging it from left to right at those who surrounded him. "May the goddess protect..." He whispered as the captain mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

The two Elven swordsman stood ready in front of the door; their stance stable and and their long hilted swords held with both hands. Their eyes were glowing with a weak, blue light as they felt how their hearts slowly filled-up with terror; the slowly nearing darkness causing them to despair as their white helmets still reflected the moon's cold light. "By the grace of our goddess; we shall not fall!" They suddenly yelled in Elvish; their voices in unison meant to radiate unity and purity. They slowly tilted their swords to the side; ready to engage their aggressors. All of their movements showed how graceful their movements were.

Faylen remained on her knees; continuing her prayer; her heart still filled with fear and her mind clouded by despair. She knew her fellow Elves were going to die; yet she could not do anything to save them, so she prayed for them; hoping the goddess would assist them and forgive her from bringing them along on this fool's errand...
 
There much fewer crew on the vessel then the Quash had expected, which was fine for them. They wanted the most gain for the fewest lose. With a small amount of enemies, the Quash sped up their assault with a dozen climbing on board with their spears and clubs. They hissed and growled like reptilian creatures rushed the two swordsman with the Elves taking out 3 of the Quash in the process, but the Quash had the advantage of numbers and manages to pull the elves to the ground before stabbing and beating them to death with clubs and spears.

The Captain had his attention focused on one of the Quash who kept on the defensive as he stabbed and slash with his dagger, but he was caught off guard when one of the attackers jumped on him and gave him a nasty bite, delivering a large amount of venom into the Captain's system. Within seconds the Captain felt his joints and limbs stiffen and lock in place as his organs began to fail, leaving him to a terrible death. With the defenders no longer a threat, the Quash began to check the ship for valuables and resources to plunder. The first place they checked is a room the swordsmen were guarding. A pair of Quash took their clubs and banged on the door for roughly a minute until the slab finally gave way with a terrible sound of splintering wood.
 
'They have fallen; my children. Mercilessly slaughtered by darkness...' It echoed through Tauren's head whilst Anya turned around to initiate the test. She grabbed Anya by her shoulder and pulled her close; "T-They have fallen... my children..." She whispered; her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing in despair. Anya looked at her queen and noticed how she seemed to be in shock, yet her eyes shone brightly blue. She simply remained silent and embraced Tauren; hoping to somehow comfort her.

The queen of the Elves, with her brightly lit crown and blue eyes suddenly stepped back and told Anya; "Resume the test. May the goddess protect..." She wiped away her tears and focused on the confused-looking Elves down at the courtyards and in the many glass-domed towers.

"Next time... Next time we'll be ready..." She muttered and forced herself to smile. She would later share this act of pure evil with her people, but now was not the time...

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The last moments of the two Elven swordmen were filled with despair and terror as they were being brutally killed by their foreign aggressors. Finally, when the light in their eyes dimmed they were the first to join their goddess. Soon, the captain would join them.

Faylen however, witnessed how the brightly lit silhouettes of her Elven brothers slowly faded and finally disappeared. Filled with grief she heard the captain's moaning and suffering. Enraged by the pain and terror she began to gather all of her remaining divine Elven magic and bundled into a direct blast, keeping a little in reserve so that she could use that if she needed to. When the sound of splintering wood echoed through the cabin she slowly opened her eyes, but still looked down at the cabin's floor. She whimpered sadly, salty tears trailing down her cheeks whilst struggling to deal with the sudden death around her and as the aggressors tried to get in she opened her eyes, focused the entire direct blast on all those in front of her and screamed as she unleashed the wave of divine magic. Splinters came up from the floor and were shot back at them; wounding many as she rushed forward and out of the cabin; only to feel the rain caress her cheek. At this very moment, she was distracted by the rain's sudden beauty. She was staggered by the fact that it was possible for light to prevail amid the darkness and didn't notice that she had offered the aggressors a chance to get to her. Seemingly having lost all hope when she realized she was surrounded she begged the goddess for the strength and endurance to keep them at bay and screamed as she cast a protective shield around her. It wobbled and it shocked; showing tears and bumps into the spherical shield's surface as he slowly began to lose hope and the will to prevail. All of those who were there with her laid dead on the ground; the mere sigh filling her eyes with even more tears as she tried to keep the shield up; her eyes twinkling ever so much.

'I-I can't... i-i won't give up...' She thought to herself as she was totally surrounded by the savage aggressors that had killed her friends only moments before. She looked around; witnessed another streak and sank down on her knees; the spherical shield exploding into dust; leaving her vulnerable to any and all attacks. Just before she fell down on the ground with the entirety of her lithe body she cried out; "Goddess... forgive me" It was in Elvish; her voice filled with hope and misery at the same time. She laid there; the rain pouring down on her as the darkness came ever looming; embracing her in its suffocating, necrotic warmth. She cried; her well-cut cheeks wet and her blue eyes only showing a sick, blue flame of light; barely enough to be seen. She laid there; awaiting her inevitable death...
 
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There seemed to be one left. A single female was left. She didn't carry any weapons or wear any armor, and she did not yet fight, so her fate was for the larder. A Quash was sent in to bring her back to the boats for the butcher's table later on. The Quash didn't say anything as she walks up to the female. The female seemed harmless enough, but looks became deceiving as the female screamed delivered a shock wave through the door, sending the splinters and the Quash out of the room, and harming two others before running out of the cabin as fast as the female could. The others were immediately brought to attention when they heard and saw their comrade fly through the door covered in splinters, and a female to bolt from the room. One of the wounded Quash yelled at his comrades to take her as the female stopped for some reason. The other Quash prepared to charge with their clubs and spears, but jumped back when the female creates some sort of shield to keep them from attacking her. The Quash in command ordered for the his warriors to keep away from the female until the barrier goes away or until the boat is close to being taken by the storm.

It wasn't long until the shield disappears for one reason or another. It would seemed as if either the Quash's luck continued to pay or the female's had simply run out. The female fell to the ground and she cries out in a language they didn't understand, nor care to understand. One of the Quash walked forward and prepared to end her life with a quick stab to the head with his spear but he was suddenly stopped by the Commanding Quash. The Quash spoke in a language that was impossible for most other races to mimic as it was a quick mixture of lizard like hisses, growls, chirps and clicks. He told his men to collect the female as she had no more fight left in her. The Quash nods in acknowledgement and began tying her hands and legs, to keep her from running, if she could that is. The Quash tended to their wounded, as they can easily heal the minor damage from the splintered wood, and stripped the dead of their weapons and armor. It wasn't long before the Quash were ready to leave and it was even shorter for the Quash to take the female back to their boats and began the journey home, leaving the ship to be consumed by the ocean.
 
The clicking, hissing and growling muddled Faylen's mind as she slowly looked up at her captors. Having lost the majority of her strength she tried to struggle and wiggle so that she could get away from them, but then realized both her hands and legs were sturdily tied-up. When she looked at where the swordsmen were killed her heart was filled with sorrow; witnessing how those who killed them stripped them of their weapons and armor. "N-No... please..." She whispered in her own, Elven language. Those around her might have heard; but would be unable to understand. It was then that everything got black; her eyelids slowly closing as she lost her consciousness.

She slowly awoke; having dreamed about the rolling of the waves. When she opened her eyes she looked around; realizing where she was she felt how fear filled her heart once more. "W-Where... where am i..?" She asked in her own, Elven language; trying to move her hands to cut her wrists some slack. She then remembered how one of her aggressors had spoken in a strange language comprised of - to her - weird and strange sounds. She groaned as she gathered the last of her divine magics to try and passively translate whatever she said into their language; "W-Who... W-who are... are you... people...?" The latter was asked with a tone of uncertainty and fear. Faylen struggled to produce the sounds needed to converse in their foreign language. Her throat ached after having said the one phrase and she felt the need to rub her temples; only to sigh as she once again faced the fact that her hands were bound. She realized that her continued existence; her life, was controlled by those who had killed those she held so dear, and that realization filled her with terror and dread...
 
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Mooring sat draped over a stone outcrop. Tall, eerie forms bustled with activity; tying, looping, pulling. Crimson sails rose towards a distant ceiling, like a bat stretching its wings. Farther down, a wooden bridge was full with the creatures hauling crates and chests into a bulbous hold. Two armored figures stood guard, patiently watching the workers go about their duty. The slap of waves against the stone below echoed through the chamber. Nobody spoke except when necessary, and the underground port lay strangely quiet. Soon enough, everything was ready. A large vessel was untied and set free. A surge brought the ship gently out into the ocean, leaving behind a gargantuan ringed gate. Intricate patterns adorned the stone and stretched around the high, dark wall of the Sleeping Isles. The vessel grew small to the island, until it was just one of many departing across the Starlit Sea. But this one was special. A canal ran from the dark waters to the ocean at large, the first of its kind. The pile of papers, debates, and controversial articles written on the channel could've reached the moon.

Three days later, and the ship was through the narrow channel, caught on a wind bound for Obus.
 
The raiding party had left the vessel to sink in the storm. It had been a few stormy hours since they started their journey back to Tlaxca. The raiding party had finally exited the storm as the skies cleared up. It was then that they began to count their prize. They had salvaged a few good pieces of armor and arms as well as their prisoner. from the vessel. A small haul, but it was better then nothing. The weapons weapons and armor can be melted and reforged to be sold as jewelry for nobles while the prisoner can be given to the butchers for a good price, especially one with strange powers. However their tune was changed when the prisoner came to and was on began to talk in their language. It was only for but a moment but they heard clearly. The Quash on the boat knew that this one was rather special. If the female could speak their language then she would be worth more then what a thin thing could fetch at the butcher.

They didn't tell the female what awaited her however as they came into the shore 2 days later. The Quash forced the prisoner from the boat and they carried their prize and vessels 5 hours from the shore and through the dense jungle to the walled city of Tlaxca. The surrounding forests are guarded by camouflaging Green Quash who's presence is only seen as a movement in the corner of one's eyes. Passing through the forest, the Quash leads the prisoner to cultivated lands, where White Quash are toiling away in the fields, cultivating beans, maize, squash and chili and pass that are the city walls, guarded by vigilant Red Quash with bows, clubs and spears. With few words the raiding party are through the wooden gates and into the city. The group splits up, with most going take the boats to their proper storage and the second heading to the markets to sell their salvage. The take the prisoner to the city's market place where hundred of Quash walk up and down the stalls buying meat, fruit, fish, live animals, fabrics and jewelry. Here the prisoner can see all the different Quash rather clearly. All the different colors and traits that separate the Quash into their different subspecies, and the busy lives these commoners live as dried beans strung on strings were handed back and forth often and quickly, especially for crates of fruit or a basket of dried fish. As the raiders take the prisoner through the market, some Quash would whisper behind her back about how she would make for a poor serving or how she was just a morsel. Every so often a group of children would run up to the raiders to see what they had to bring and the raiders would simply smile and push the eager children away. The trip through the market lasted an hour as the Raiders sold the weapons and armor of her comrades for what looked like a handful of strung coins before leading her to a butcher. Normally her fate would be certain as their prisoners would usually end up on the butcher's table but instead the Raider captain turned to her and gave her a choice.

"I have heard you speak. I want to know if it is true. If you understand then understand, we can sell you to a butcher as meat. Or to a noble as a pet. It will be your choice."
 
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Faylen had simply tilted her gaze down onto the ground; the long and tiring walk having exhausted her. As they walked through the market, however, she felt how her cheeks burned red with shame and heard how her heart was rapidly beating.

She had reached out to her people's armor and weapons as her aggressors sold it and whimpered when she realized that they had arrived at what seemed to be a butcher. Surrounded by the looming darkness she looked at the one who had talked to her and locked him in place with her gaze. Her eyes shone brightly blue now as she answered the being's rather strange and - in her opinion - evil question. Her voice; still clear and gracious sounded new and foreign to the beings around her as she spoke; "I-It's true... I... I can speak in your language..." She then whimpered again; she had moved her hands too much; causing the bindings to cut into her wrists. Her eyes filled with tears she said; "T-The pet... i... i could be of use... of... of use to your noble..." She then looked around; her face filled with terror as she witnessed how the 'butcher' was busy cutting meat. She had chosen the lesser of two evils; and in silence she begged her goddess for guidance and the will to live...
 
The female tells the Quash that she would rather be a pet then be placed on the butcher's table. It would make sense. All the prisoners he had sent to the butcher didn't really much like the prospect of being gutted and carved. Respecting the prisoner's wishes the Quash takes the prisoner from the butcher to what looks like a bathhouse. There he pays a female Quash and whispers to the her to 'Fix her up. Make her presentable.' The Quash nods and the raider hands the prisoner's binds to the female quash. The Bath Owner takes the prisoner into a special, private room where a pair of female Quash takes off the elves clothes and began to wash her, head to feed with warm scented water. They didn't care for personal space as they rubbed down every inch of her body with hands and cloth. When they were done, they led her from the bath to a dry roofless room where they used cotton towels to dry her off.

The process wasn't comfortable as the Quash 'helpers' used the towels to dry off every part of her body, to easily set her up for the next part. When she was finally dried a Brown Quash walks into the room with a bowl of black dye and brush. The Quash tells to elf to not move as she carefully applies the dye to the elf's body. She painted her body and face with beautiful body art. Her arms and legs were painted to have ornate snakes slithering up her legs and down her arms. An eagle was painted on her back with its wings extend and its claws outstretched and her face is painted with the pattern of a blooming flower with the stem crawling down her neck and torso in delicate curves, sprouting lovely leaves before splitting into soft roots that continued down her midriff and down her legs. The process took what seemed like two grueling hours for the Quash painter to finally finish her work, with several threats of 'Stay Still or I shall bite you' and 'Stop moving or do you wish to end up the larders?' and such in between some strokes. Satisfied with her work, the Quash set aside the brush and dye bowl before washing her hands to clean them for the next stage. She calls in the two helpers and they brought in a fan made of leather and branches and a box of various beautiful pieces of jewelry. Jewelry that is to be used to decorate her. The Brown Quash used the fan to dry the paint, a task that took a half hour before beginning to decorate the elf. Two earrings made of silver and gold was hung from her ears. A hair brooch designed like a blossoming flower made of gold and dyed red is placed in her hair. A belly chain made of pure gold was fasted around her hip and golden bracelets and anklets embedded with a polished obsidian stone was attached to her wrists and ankles.

When the Quash was satisfied with her work, Quash claps her hands and the pair of helpers came in with a body sized obsidian mirror to show the Elf her reflection. She was barely recognizable as herself as the paints and jewelry did their work well in hiding any sign of her previous holdings and now only marked her as a trophy. With her work done, the Brown Quash placed the finishing touch. A beautiful necklace made of jade beads held together by golden links is placed and fastened around her neck. This was to be her chain. A beautiful chain but a chain nonetheless. The Brown Quash took her necklace chain and gave a few tugs to make sure it was fastened correctly before getting the elf to stand up straight and giving her a piece of wisdom. 'Do not cover yourself. The buyer will need to know if he is getting his money's worth.'

She was finally done with her make-over and was sent out of the bathhouse wearing only a pair of fine sandals as her clothes only hid such beautiful art and accessories. Standing outside is the Raider. The Blue Quash who had led the attack on her vessel. He examines her from head to toe and admired what the bathhouse had done.

"Very nice. Very nice. They seem to have made you fit for a king haven't they?" He comments and takes the bead chain. "Now come. I have found you a buyer. Let us meet him. I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

Once again the Elf is taken through the streets, naked and chained. She is led through the streets as the hot sun beat down on her naked body. The reptilian Quash didn't seem to notice the baking sun, but they did notice the ornately decorated elf walking through the streets. The Quash began talk and whisper as she walked by. Most were discussing what a strange attributes that the creature had, others were discussing the reasons her buyers would want such a strange creature, and other still were discussing what they would use her for. Many dozens of eyes were upon her and only her as she walked, examining her as a piece of art, a diseased beggar to be exiled or a helpless slave fated for the chambers. The Raider didn't notice the comments or stares, or more likely didn't care for them, as he leads the elf from the market place and into a grand pyramid temple in the center of the city. They stop at the steps and he addresses her while he pointed to the pyramid.

"In there lies your buyer. You are a lucky creature. The king seems to have heard of your arrival so quickly and now wishes to see if you are worthy to buy you. Now I will tell you once. Keep your head high. Do not speak until you are spoken to. And do not cry. It is disrespectful to cry in the king's presence. And do not worry. If he finds your beauty enough then he will buy. If he does not, then I shall find a new buyer. And if not then I shall find a new way to make money from you. If you understand then nod and I shall see if I cannot make a profit from you."
 
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500 years prior...
Queen Peileia of Salavena, island of the Sirens, sat miserably enthralled by her mirror. The vain queen, even for the Sirens lasting beauty and youthful appearance, no longer had the look of a young woman. She was miserable, not because she had lost her youthful charm, but because she knew what would soon come of it. The Sirens were a pragmatic and ruthless people. She would be queen only as far as she was useful, and in Salavena uselessness was a terrible fate.

Peileia took to prayer. When nothing came of it, She took to the sea. All sirens, somewhere deep down, know where to find her... Their creator. It was a secret and forgotten urge that only years of meditation and arcane studies would dredge back up.

As the lights formed around Peileia's canoe, dancing beautifully enough to drive a lesser being insane, a soothing, familiar voice was heard. "My daughter... Peileia, right? I've heard sooo much about you! Let us talk for a while."

And for a month Peileia and Eellae talked. Over the days she stayed at sea, Peileia's conversation would, frankly, turn sour relatively fast... "I'm not going to go to THAT much trouble, darling, for, let's face it, someone who never even considered I existed. And why should I? You started praying, for the first time in your life honestly, because you needed something for yourself. Your motives are -always- far from loving!" At that Peileia's request for immortal beauty was rejected, much the same as Peileia herself. Her crew quickly maneuvered the boat away from the lights Peileia cursed at so hatefully now, wisely choosing to avoid the confrontation. Luckily for them Eellae could no longer be bothered.

Peileia was by now old. She youthful beauty gone entirely, and her daughter was expected to kill her and take the throne any day now. It was that night that a voice, a new voice, was heard in the wind, to half-asleep Peileia...

"Peileia, ohh desperate little one... Fear not... Rest in my voice." the older female voice said soothingly "You can still have endless beauty, young one. You and all your first-born daughters, forever. But you will just have to give something up too, Okay?"

"Who are you?" asked dreaming Peileia.

"Two people, for each one I bless, to keep the blessing coming. That is all I ask; for everlasting beauty your whole life..." said the voice, presenting a contract.

Peileia did not think about it, or the fact that the voice had no name. She accepted; and as she did so the terms of the deal were made clear. Life would end with the extended beauty, and one of the sacrifices was the Siren who benefited and the other was any and all of there mates, to be given to the arch-devil Death of the Six-Evils, whom brokered the deal...

---
Present day
Halisana was the dread-queen of Salavena, preposterously attractive, and was said to be able to take a man's life with a mere touch of her fingertips. Untrue, of course, but still useful for others to believe. Halisana made her way to the morning balcony of her palace tower, clutching her pregnant stomach in her hands. The gods give good things...

There was a knock at the door. An adviser told her that the the island's supply of food was again in short supply, and with the humans increasing hostility, many of the hunting parties were not eager to go any closer to Tuaru to 'catch prey'. Halisana was frowned at this, and was distracted for moment in motherly joy as her daughter gave a kick. They already knew it would be a girl; that is all Sirens are able to produce.

Turning back to the problems at hand, she asked what the wardens of the 'guest quarters' learned from their visitors regarding possible hunting grounds. "There are often Orcs, ma'am, in Tuaru, and they supposedly come from elsewhere. The Golems will not make much in the way of prey, but there are the Elves, should they really exist, as the fishermen claim..." Halisana scoffed at the idea... People of purity, with absurd magic and born of an almighty light... It sounded like a religious ghost-story made to perpetuate some obscure god. Surely it couldn't be real.

"What else?" she asked the adviser, who just was silent for a moment.

"...there was another rumour; They say Men in the form of Salamanders come from the north to invade the middle isles. Possibly Quash. And also, grey men of the north have passed by baring the look of the Sluans of old, but they looked so odd our huntress's left them be and stayed hidden." the adviser answered

"Tell them to do so no longer. Investigate the Quash and the Sluans. Tell them to broaden there search away from Tuaru." was Queen Halisana's edict.
 
A sailing vessel drew near the coast of Obus. For five months it had crossed the ocean. The timbers seemed weary as they creaked, welcoming the shore with delight. A shove from the tide drove the ship nearby, and an anchor fell from hull, making a splash as it streaked toward the seabed. A gangplank was lowered from the grayed wood, and several figures descended from the rather monotone construction. They observed the landscape, and signaled back to the hold. About ten Sluans began to unload, bringing out wagons, crates, and several Wallow Beasts. They'd landed on the edge of an unknown continent, and already from the beach the creatures could see a city in the distance. As a rather plump merchant took his place on the wagon train, one last figure emerged. It was unnaturally tall, and it wore armor that would collapse any regular mortal. A supernaturally empowered Worm Knight trailed the procession, bell and lance in hand. A lengthy estoc was sheathed at the monstrous warrior's side.

The merchant's caravan began a journey towards the unknown city, goods in their crates and greed on their hearts.

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OOC: where they ended up and which city they're heading towards is up for grabs. First come, first serve.
 
Thræn was pissed. Well, more pissed than usual anyway. Things were becoming more and more strained within Tuaru as stranger things began to occur all at once.

First there was the ‘rebellion’. The mongrels in one of their camps broke free and, from the various reports brought to her by spymasters and information brokers alike, they were rallying behind some sort of ‘Champion’. They claim this orc to be some sort of god reborn, the morons. It was evident, even to her so far away, that it was simply a Champion at best.

Then there was the missing ships! It wasn’t anything big yet, but the normal one or two ships that get lost and end up a few days late have changed to just over a dozen this past month, except they simply disappeared. Nothing left of them, not a trace.

A request for aid in the latter matter had been sent to the Golems, who replied with a confirmation of assistance and a promise that they would investigate on their side. Due to their closer relationship with the elves, they will also approach them in the matter.

Marching out of meeting room she was in, sick listening to the white robed fossils argue and debate over the next few months of the future of a city only the Two-Sided god could remember the creation of, Thræn made her way towards her personal shrine.

The lack of any balance in the Tuaru church was almost ironic. It had taken her smashing down a wall in a rage for her to agree to a section of the temple to be given to the ‘darker’ side of the Two-Faced God.

Drawing her axe, Thræn placed the blade amid the coals of a small pit fire. Waving her hand over the flames, the Champion ignited the coal fire. The flames rushed forward and over the axe, yet the objet was not even warmed.

Kneeling, the Avatar found the connection that tied her to her god. Grasping it, she feels herself request her master’s presence. And he came.

The flames rushed forth, forming into form of a skeletal hand. “I request your aid, my god. I wish to aid my people in finding what is preying upon them. How may I go about doing so?” Thræn asks, her voice pleading as he bows her head.

For a few moment, the hand is still. Then it moves. The stone of the wall close to her crumbled away, revealing the outskirts of the city and beyond it the ocean.

The hand of the Two-Faced God points out the hole in the wall, past the town and towards the ocean. When Thræn felt confusion it raised it’s palm towards the ceiling. A figure bursts into flame above it. A human woman with a tail and wings. It clapped and fluttered, careening through the air.

Thræn recognised the figure immediately. “A... a siren? But my lord, they... they have no where to go! They’re little better than animals, just roving the seas for people!” She exclaims.

The hand shakes from side to side. ‘No’ it seems to say. The figure is then replaced with that of an Island, surrounded by ocean. Harpies decorate it, and above is a figure of blue flame. Darker, different compared to the rest.

Nodding, Thræn looks out through the hole one more time before turning back to the Altar. “I... I understand. I will go and talk to the leader? Of the Sirens.” She says, bowing her head before a thought strikes her. “How... will I get there?” She questions.

Immediately after her question, Thræn’s head alighted in flame. Patting her hair down, she could feel the pull of her destination. Looking back towards the Altar, she notices that the flames and hand are gone, her axe (the blade now red) the only object left.

Grinning, Thræn hefts the axe over he shoulder and makes her way through the halls of the building. Renewed with purpose, she set out to organise a crew.

Time to meet with monsters.

—-

Kaubus Citadel
Balak’Hurr was troubled. While his work was progressing as normal (the Citadel was working upon a mode of transportation that would allow them to travel the underground tunnels with great speed), it was news from outside the Citadel that troubled him. It always was, really.

He had recieved a call for aid from the humans. It was funny really, how the race was simultaneously ancient and merely children compared to the Golem people. Maybe he could figure out a way to see back into the past, see exactly how old they are compared to him. It was unfortunate that all records he could get from Idain merely refer to it as ‘The dark days’ and similar names.

Anyway, back on track. Balak’Hurr seemed that if he was going to figure it what is happening with the humans (and maybe orcs? That’s a line of thinking for later) he would need help from the elves.

What the Elven mages lacked in physical magic, they more than made up for it in the more incorporeal side (something he might need to look into as well. Why couldn’t Golems use that type?)

Making his way towards a few runes carved into the wall, he taps them and gives them a modicum if arcane power. With that done, he quickly forms a stone tablet with the details of the situation on it and slams it into the wall. The wall absorbs the tablet with almost liquid ease.

The magic would run its course through the mountain and beyond, following Anya’s magical signal to Lathessia. Once within range, two non-sentient Golems (little more than humans made of rock) will form out of the closest materials with the tablet in hand.

With that done Balak’Hurr made his way back towards his workstation. He had recently found a new use for lava pressure and was rather excited to try it out.

—

Tuaru
Recently scouts have reported the presence of People of Lead upon the shores of Tuaru. Small in number, scouts conclude that they may be looking to trade, or at least come with semi-peaceful intentions.

Always eager to meet a potential new trade partner, the head priests order that the gates be open to the newcomers and for the city guard to guide all but the persons in charge to the market. The council wanted to meet whoever was in charge.

And by all they meant all. Scouts had reports the presence of large and armoured beings and, with the Avatar on some sort of cruise to find an island that may or may not exist they had no effective counter.

It was just business.
 
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