"Nothing much moves you, does it half-orc?"says Bailyx. "People have let you down. The gods have let you down. Why not find a cause that suits you? You would be suitable as a champion for a god of adversity. Who more suited than you, in fact?"
Irovax stiffens. "Bailyx..." he says, caution in his tone.
"I am making the best of a bad situation. You best think on how lord Helm would prefer things go now," Bailyx says in a testy tone. He turns back to the barbarian. "Talk to the dragon. At the very least, you can say you have faced a dragon."
Having been completely and utterly ignored, the Eladrin retained his pose for a few seconds. “No need to applaud, truly.” - he joked, to none in particular - “I actually thought I’d done fairly well there. Huh.”A sigh. “To think I had to put up with the Owl for this… ah well.”
The shame and embarrassment seemed to escape his form every bit as quickly as they’d set in, and with them had gone the formal, authoritative look from before, replaced by a far calmer, less measured stance, with a touch of curiosity. Llyr pondered for a moment, before yawning and retrieving a flask, presumably filled with alcohol, from his pouch and drank from it. ”A choice between an old Gnome and an ancient Dragon. Sounds like a teenage bard’s wet dream.”- the Fey spoke, fully serious, with genuine marvel in his tone and a pensive expression - ”... this almost feels like something the Courts might do. Curious.”
His gaze once again looked through the crowd, languidly, from the cocky, minute Gnome to the surprisingly demure giant lizard, stopping mainly, but briefly, at the sight of a brooding, collarless Orcish fellow with peculiar taste in footwear. “Ambition or Adversity, is it? Interesting problem.” Having no real intention to step in and be ignored, again, the pointy eared Bladesinger saddled up to the tree nearest the surprisingly vocal Solars, keenly watching the newly empowered motley crew of individuals, given a chance to influence Divinity itself and, as a result, their world.
Reaching his flask to his lips yet again, the Elf stopped short, and extended his arm towards the grouchy one among the winged pair, his gaze, a gesture visibly stating something to the effect of ‘You look like you could use this more than I do’, in a fairly comical display, considering the disparity in their sizes.
Dog listens to the divine voting, and after they break, finds Martin, and Gash, and asks what in the heavens and hells is going on. Is Finnegan visible anywhere?
"No one let Kulloda down," Kulloda says to Bailyx. "Need trust to be let down. Expect stab in back. Get stab in chest. Just life."
But he does look at the fiery haired woman, presuming she's the dragon they've spoken of. This Bailyx does have a point.
"But facing a dragon," Kulloda continues, "that alone is worth it."
He's picked up enough of what's going on that there appears to be a choice between the gnome and the dragon. He assumes Centulia standing by the gnome means Tempus favors the gnome and not the dragon. His frown deepens.
"Bah, if they want Kulloda to act one way, they should tell him what is happening."
He looks around for a moment to see if the water wizard, Gash is nearby. The large goliath appears to be talking to him.
"Gash," Kulloda interrupts. "I will talk to dragon. If you're interested, come." Then he looks at the goliath again. "You ever face dragon?"
Without waiting to see if the small goblin will join him, Kulloda looks up at Bailyx and Irovax and nods. His eyes rest for a moment on the fey elf in the tree offering Irovax a drink. Might be an elf, Kulloda thinks, but smart. That one needs a drink. He then sets off across the clearing to the group around the dragon-woman.
He doesn't wait for an invitation but walks up to her, looks at her hair and face, squints his eyes a bit, trying to picture a dragon.
"You're the dragon? They want you to be god of adversity?" Kulloda asks. He nods his head back to Bailyx and Irovax. "Those two think it good joke to say I should talk to you. But wine is gone so why not. Why should mortals care for you or the gnome? Gods do god things. Mortals get kicked around when they do. You same?"
“Dog, you see about the same as me, I think. The gods and devils are sorting themselves out. Reason appears to be winning out. Somehow the devils are a solid bloc of voting. That troubles me. They must have a goal. They tried to cheat on multiple occasions before. Why not keep cheating to get what they want? Unless the goal lines up with voting someone they want into Limbo. And Finnegan knows about the cage, but I doubt many others do… do we tell them? Or is that too much like a threat?”
Dog listens to the divine voting, and after they break, finds Martin, and Gash, and asks what in the heavens and hells is going on. Is Finnegan visible anywhere?
(Finnegan is talking with several devils and an angel in the center of the clearing.)
Tristan stands quietly at the fringe of the clearing, taking it all in and trying to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of him. Angels blaming mortals for a mess they have little influence or control over, a haughty elf dismissing the musings of mere mortals and rambling on about the virtues of a long life span. Tristan laughs to himself at this, in his experience, long life spans lead to more to long-winded speeches than any sort of worthwhile action. In any case, the Solars appeared to pay less attention to him than Tristan did.
Finally the vote. He watches and listens lost in his own thoughts. Haleek had the full measure of it, he would have to thank him again later. A gnome and a dragon, two unlikely candidates for gods in his eyes. And why is the Traveler such a point of contention?
He turns to Dog, Martin and the others “Do you know this gnome, how did he find himself on the shortlist to be a god? What is this cage that you speak of? I confess, there is much to this story that I still need to learn.”
He watches in barely hidden amusement as the half-orc approaches the dragon, still wearing her human form. He is not quite sure what to expect out of this encounter, maybe she will eat him right here in the clearing?
Irovax looks for a long beat at the flask and then takes it. He takes a long draw from it and hands it back with plenty left inside.
Llyr & Sylvan speakers:
"Y'know, there is a sect of monks of Helm in Poria that have forsworn drink. The are all about protecting your body in order to protect yourself,"says the disgruntled angel. "That kind of thing happens all the time, of course. It just irritates me that they claim it was Helm's word as spoken by Irovax, his heavenly scion. I said no such thing!"
He takes another draw, much shorter, from the flask when it is proffered again.
"Not that they are entirely wrong, of course. If you're addled with the drink, you make Helm's Work all the harder to receive."
There is a long pause, not exactly awkward, but enough to shift the conversation slightly.
"The same goes for you, elf,"he says. "Your speech was mostly in the right. I lost my temper and I should not have."
His tongue loosens as the liquor warms his insides. His tone, though, remains melancholy. "Did you know I am the oldest iteration of any god? That means I have diverged more from my Lord than any other, of course. I'm the farthest from Him than any scion is from their god..."
He trails off in a moment of thought, a frown on his lips.
Martin, Tristan, and Dog:
Bailyx answers Tristan's question. "The gnome is a powerful mage, certainly. He has devoted his entire life to the pursuit of power, eschewing family, politics, notoriety, and wealth. I do not know how the hells happened upon him, but he is their choice for those reasons. The main problem is, as I understand it, that he is not ready, not yet. Past ascendancies to godhood required more power, more notability, than the mage has shown. I have been assured there is a plan to close the gap.
Kulloda and Gash:
The dragon looks utterly human, with smooth skin almost like that of an elf. Her eyes are a dark brown that borders on black. They are piercing, watching, clever eyes. Her shocks of white hair at her temples are the only signs of age she has granted herself. The dragon is surrounded by several angels and devils asking her questions about the hells, the gods, the mortals, and more.
Kulloda, whether due to lack of social awareness or lack of caring or perhaps both, barges past the divine beings to confront the dragon directly. His question, though, seems to grant him reprieve from any comment by the angels or devils, not that he would care.
The dragon, Xa'lawea, that is her name, looks at Kulloda intently for a long moment. "Like you, I have never felt the gods' presence in my life," she says in a throaty but smooth voice. "Perhaps because the gods cannot attend to everyone. They help only the few who find them or who they find in need of them. Have you ever needed the god of music and poetry? That is not the goddess I promise to be. Adversity finds everyone. It found you, I'll wager. Adversity is what made you strong. It is what you needed and what got in your way when you needed time or space to just breathe."
She looks to the devils around the gnome. "Ambition is for the few, though," she says at length. "The wealthy, the powerful, and those who aspire to those things. You, worn by your adversity, had no time for ambition. You had only you to look out for in those times. But a mortal who prays to the god of adversity could receive an answer. She could receive help from her suffering and find her own ambition when she is able to take that on."
Kulloda narrows his eyes, a deep furrow appearing on his forehead between his eyebrows when he frowns.
"Kulloda strong. Not suffer," Kulloda begins. He looks at Gash to make sure he's heard that part. Despite everything that he has endured he has never thought of it as suffering, and to admit that now isn't something he can do. But after a short pause he does nod at what Xa'lawea has said. "But you speak some truth. The powerful step on the weak and make them suffer. Sometimes their fault they're weak. Too bad. Sometimes not. Those ones, yes, should help stab powerful in groin or neck."
He thinks a moment longer but that's as far as he can take this train of thought for now. Happy with the idea of those being held down rising up and stabbing their oppressor in the groin he nods again.
"Yes you should be god," Kulloda says. He turns again to Gash. "Dragon's okay."
But he still looks over to where the group around the gnome are stationed and looks to see if Centulia sees him talking to Xa'lawea.
The Bladesinger waved his hand good-naturedly, wordlessly indicating that no offence had been taken and no forgiveness had been required.
“Disliking feeling different to those around us, are we?” - the Elf asked, rhetorically and in Common, while making a lazy mental note to try to remember that Helm was God of Protection, for the duration of the conversation - “How positively Mortal of you.” - Llyr quipped, sharp as ever but with an amicable tone and in good humour.
“You probably have a good few years under your belt, Feathers... Shouldn’t that make you entitled to thinking your own thoughts every now and again?” Shooting the Solar an amused, quizzical look — which involved tilting his head upwards to an almost uncomfortable degree, quite frankly — the member of the Courts once again felt just how different this aspect of Immortality was to the Courts — it probably showed.
”Still. A momentary outburst feels a little tame for a rebellious Angel… Why not just get blackout drunk, or something? Punch some sheep. You know, live a little!”Arms to his sides, the Eladrin offered a knowing wink, as the hints of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “ ‘tis the way of the Fair Folk.” — he said, and meant it.
“Oooh! I smell a ploy!” — the Eladrin cooed, almost more at than to Bailyx and his pensive audience, his body tingling in delight. His attention had been stolen from Irovax’s reply, yes, but only for a few moments — “Still, I confess he does look a touch… lacklustre?” — a shrug, before his eyes gravitated towards the large, tusked individual that had approached the Dragon —“I wonder if something sweetened the pot?”
Kulloda watches all of the conversation between those of the heavens, hells and limbo with ever increasing boredom. He doesn't even bother to hide the yawn that stretches across his tusked and scarred visage. He looks around to find Gash.
"A lot of pretty talk, but if get gist," Kulloda says. "All about who pisses on us and from where. Why would mortal care? All same. This one, that one. All piss on mortals."
But he also remembers who brought him there and the power wielded by those in attendance. He looks for Centulia again, making sure he can see her and that she doesn't want his presence.
He does look up at Bailyx and Irovax when they talk to him and he does acknowledge the apology with a nod. But he does laugh a little when he gets one. It would have been a short fight, but it would have been something to test himself against one of these creatures.
(Meant to send this yesterday, had it all typed up and forgot to send)
Gash turns to Kulloda, "I don't know if anyone has ever told you this given your past... but you really are quite wise." he says with a chuckle. "Eloquent it is not, but it rings very true."
"No one let Kulloda down," Kulloda says to Bailyx. "Need trust to be let down. Expect stab in back. Get stab in chest. Just life."
But he does look at the fiery haired woman, presuming she's the dragon they've spoken of. This Bailyx does have a point.
"But facing a dragon," Kulloda continues, "that alone is worth it."
He's picked up enough of what's going on that there appears to be a choice between the gnome and the dragon. He assumes Centulia standing by the gnome means Tempus favors the gnome and not the dragon. His frown deepens.
"Bah, if they want Kulloda to act one way, they should tell him what is happening."
He looks around for a moment to see if the water wizard, Gash is nearby. The large goliath appears to be talking to him.
"Gash," Kulloda interrupts. "I will talk to dragon. If you're interested, come." Then he looks at the goliath again. "You ever face dragon?"
Without waiting to see if the small goblin will join him, Kulloda looks up at Bailyx and Irovax and nods. His eyes rest for a moment on the fey elf in the tree offering Irovax a drink. Might be an elf, Kulloda thinks, but smart. That one needs a drink. He then sets off across the clearing to the group around the dragon-woman.
He doesn't wait for an invitation but walks up to her, looks at her hair and face, squints his eyes a bit, trying to picture a dragon.
"You're the dragon? They want you to be god of adversity?" Kulloda asks. He nods his head back to Bailyx and Irovax. "Those two think it good joke to say I should talk to you. But wine is gone so why not. Why should mortals care for you or the gnome? Gods do god things. Mortals get kicked around when they do. You same?"
Gash finds himself torn between his two very tall friends, "hey Dog, are you seeing this? -- oh hold on, I'm going to join my new friend here. Come along?"
Irovax looks for a long beat at the flask and then takes it. He takes a long draw from it and hands it back with plenty left inside.
Llyr & Sylvan speakers:
"Y'know, there is a sect of monks of Helm in Poria that have forsworn drink. The are all about protecting your body in order to protect yourself,"says the disgruntled angel. "That kind of thing happens all the time, of course. It just irritates me that they claim it was Helm's word as spoken by Irovax, his heavenly scion. I said no such thing!"
He takes another draw, much shorter, from the flask when it is proffered again.
"Not that they are entirely wrong, of course. If you're addled with the drink, you make Helm's Work all the harder to receive."
There is a long pause, not exactly awkward, but enough to shift the conversation slightly.
"The same goes for you, elf,"he says. "Your speech was mostly in the right. I lost my temper and I should not have."
His tongue loosens as the liquor warms his insides. His tone, though, remains melancholy. "Did you know I am the oldest iteration of any god? That means I have diverged more from my Lord than any other, of course. I'm the farthest from Him than any scion is from their god..."
He trails off in a moment of thought, a frown on his lips.
Martin, Tristan, and Dog:
Bailyx answers Tristan's question. "The gnome is a powerful mage, certainly. He has devoted his entire life to the pursuit of power, eschewing family, politics, notoriety, and wealth. I do not know how the hells happened upon him, but he is their choice for those reasons. The main problem is, as I understand it, that he is not ready, not yet. Past ascendancies to godhood required more power, more notability, than the mage has shown. I have been assured there is a plan to close the gap.
Kulloda and Gash:
The dragon looks utterly human, with smooth skin almost like that of an elf. Her eyes are a dark brown that borders on black. They are piercing, watching, clever eyes. Her shocks of white hair at her temples are the only signs of age she has granted herself. The dragon is surrounded by several angels and devils asking her questions about the hells, the gods, the mortals, and more.
Kulloda, whether due to lack of social awareness or lack of caring or perhaps both, barges past the divine beings to confront the dragon directly. His question, though, seems to grant him reprieve from any comment by the angels or devils, not that he would care.
The dragon, Xa'lawea, that is her name, looks at Kulloda intently for a long moment. "Like you, I have never felt the gods' presence in my life," she says in a throaty but smooth voice. "Perhaps because the gods cannot attend to everyone. They help only the few who find them or who they find in need of them. Have you ever needed the god of music and poetry? That is not the goddess I promise to be. Adversity finds everyone. It found you, I'll wager. Adversity is what made you strong. It is what you needed and what got in your way when you needed time or space to just breathe."
She looks to the devils around the gnome. "Ambition is for the few, though," she says at length. "The wealthy, the powerful, and those who aspire to those things. You, worn by your adversity, had no time for ambition. You had only you to look out for in those times. But a mortal who prays to the god of adversity could receive an answer. She could receive help from her suffering and find her own ambition when she is able to take that on."
Gash listens intently to the dragon, "I have provided favor after favor for the heavens and still this is the respect we're given. What should you do for the mortals on this realm? How will you act? What are your motives for being a God?"Gash stops himself and thinks Dog's pension for rapid fire questions must be rubbing off on him finally.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Gash- Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Dog absentmindedly answers Kulloda: "dragon? once... on the road... we didn't get along..."
He is oddly quiet and uninquisitive amid all this talking. He nods to Martin, and just checks to make sure the bag of holding is still on his person, secure in the knowledge the plans are still in there. He's slowly realizing he may be in possession of a divine incendiary.
Emboldened by the angel’s answer, and by the other’s distant conversation with the dragon, Tristan strokes his short beard and tries to get some more information from the pair. “I didn’t quite catch how you two voted in the end. What do the heavens think about these two, do you choose Ambition or Adversity? And why is the Traveler such a point of contention in the two proposals?”
Irovax continues speaking in Sylvan, despite Llyr switching to common.
"I suppose I am more and more mortal," the angel says, "the further I drift from Helm. If I rejoin him, I live on. If I am killed, then everything that makes me not Helm, well, that part of me is just as you mortals."
The angel finds himself sinking too far into melancholy. He straightens, raising his head. "What fiendish ichor did you share with me, elf?" he says with a grin, and chucks Llyr on the shoulder.
Tristan, Dog, Martin, and Llyr:
Bailyx is the one to respond, "Obviously we support no change to the heavens. Neither of us voted for either candidate. I suspect Irovax here holds on to the hope that no candidate will suffice and things will stay as they are. Given the choice, I do not much care."
Irovax snorts in response but says nothing. Bailyx watches the gathering of the divine for a long moment. "The Traveler was one of us, once. They made a mistake, an offense to all the gods. They nearly upset the balance. It was the last great crisis the heavens and hells faced. The hells, rightly, nearly brought war upon us in the heavens for it. So they were banished to the mortal realm, to forever wander with no plane of their own, no angels or followers except what they could convince to follow them from year to year. They still have enemies, especially among the hells for their transgression."
Kulloda:
Centulia has indeed noticed him taking to Xa'lawea. She does not look pleased but nor does she look angry. She gives him a curt nod and returns to talking with the gnome.
Kulloda and Gash:
Xa'lawea smiles down at Gash. "I will test mortals with adversity and, to the deserving, ease their burdens. I am the most feared red dragon of our time. I am not known for my compassion or gentleness. I aspire to be a god of the hells, a chance to ascend mortality. I am old and my time will one day end unless the gods raise me up to join them. Then I shall rule over my domain...my domain...with the practiced and thoughtful care that has kept me alive so long."
Kulloda shrugs as Xa'lawea continues speaking to Gash. She's confirmed everything he thought of the gods.
"Gods are gods," Kulloda says to Gash. "This one same. But maybe piss on powerful too not just weak."
Not seeing much more to be gained talking to the dragon further, or testing Centulia's patience more, Kulloda nods to the dragon, the closest he can come to a bow and turns to leave the gods to their machinations.
Kulloda shrugs as Xa'lawea continues speaking to Gash. She's confirmed everything he thought of the gods.
"Gods are gods," Kulloda says to Gash. "This one same. But maybe piss on powerful too not just weak."
Not seeing much more to be gained talking to the dragon further, or testing Centulia's patience more, Kulloda nods to the dragon, the closest he can come to a bow and turns to leave the gods to their machinations.
"Now where's the wine?"
"Little warrior," the woman says, looking up at Kulloda, "What would you say makes a desirable god?"
“The blood of virgins.” - Llyr shot back, deadpan, before taking another swig of the spirit, noticing the flask empty, and then producing two full bottles from his Bag. The things were beautifully made, but devoid of any label. The bladesinger uncorked them both, outright placed one in the Solar’s hands, clinked them and then drank from the one he’d kept.
“A Faun I know back home made it.”- he spoke, emphasising the word, less-than-pleased about the Hells taking credit for Fey achievements. The Eladrin calmly awaited until the bottle had made it to the Angel’s lips, before continuing - “Fairly certain he’s never cleaned anything in the however many centuries he’s been alive, but the bastard claims that that’s where the taste comes from, so who am I to argue?”He shrugged with a light chuckle.
“Any other takers?” - he asked of his immediate surroundings, believing they’d heard the interaction.
“So, if I’m understanding this correctly, you’re stating that there’s a very real chance that the two newest additions to the Pantheon that will rule over this Mortal plane for Eternity may consist of one that possesses neither the power nor the qualifications, and another that will almost assuredly prove to be a source of conflict?” - the Elf butted into the other conversation yet again, before pausing to think, still remarkably blasé about it all, one eyebrow quirking upwards in mild surprise - “… are you certain that my kind didn’t put you up to this?”
"Nothing much moves you, does it half-orc?" says Bailyx. "People have let you down. The gods have let you down. Why not find a cause that suits you? You would be suitable as a champion for a god of adversity. Who more suited than you, in fact?"
Irovax stiffens. "Bailyx..." he says, caution in his tone.
"I am making the best of a bad situation. You best think on how lord Helm would prefer things go now," Bailyx says in a testy tone. He turns back to the barbarian. "Talk to the dragon. At the very least, you can say you have faced a dragon."
Having been completely and utterly ignored, the Eladrin retained his pose for a few seconds. “No need to applaud, truly.” - he joked, to none in particular - “I actually thought I’d done fairly well there. Huh.” A sigh. “To think I had to put up with the Owl for this… ah well.”
The shame and embarrassment seemed to escape his form every bit as quickly as they’d set in, and with them had gone the formal, authoritative look from before, replaced by a far calmer, less measured stance, with a touch of curiosity. Llyr pondered for a moment, before yawning and retrieving a flask, presumably filled with alcohol, from his pouch and drank from it. ”A choice between an old Gnome and an ancient Dragon. Sounds like a teenage bard’s wet dream.” - the Fey spoke, fully serious, with genuine marvel in his tone and a pensive expression - ”... this almost feels like something the Courts might do. Curious.”
His gaze once again looked through the crowd, languidly, from the cocky, minute Gnome to the surprisingly demure giant lizard, stopping mainly, but briefly, at the sight of a brooding, collarless Orcish fellow with peculiar taste in footwear. “Ambition or Adversity, is it? Interesting problem.” Having no real intention to step in and be ignored, again, the pointy eared Bladesinger saddled up to the tree nearest the surprisingly vocal Solars, keenly watching the newly empowered motley crew of individuals, given a chance to influence Divinity itself and, as a result, their world.
Reaching his flask to his lips yet again, the Elf stopped short, and extended his arm towards the grouchy one among the winged pair, his gaze, a gesture visibly stating something to the effect of ‘You look like you could use this more than I do’, in a fairly comical display, considering the disparity in their sizes.
Dog listens to the divine voting, and after they break, finds Martin, and Gash, and asks what in the heavens and hells is going on. Is Finnegan visible anywhere?
"No one let Kulloda down," Kulloda says to Bailyx. "Need trust to be let down. Expect stab in back. Get stab in chest. Just life."
But he does look at the fiery haired woman, presuming she's the dragon they've spoken of. This Bailyx does have a point.
"But facing a dragon," Kulloda continues, "that alone is worth it."
He's picked up enough of what's going on that there appears to be a choice between the gnome and the dragon. He assumes Centulia standing by the gnome means Tempus favors the gnome and not the dragon. His frown deepens.
"Bah, if they want Kulloda to act one way, they should tell him what is happening."
He looks around for a moment to see if the water wizard, Gash is nearby. The large goliath appears to be talking to him.
"Gash," Kulloda interrupts. "I will talk to dragon. If you're interested, come." Then he looks at the goliath again. "You ever face dragon?"
Without waiting to see if the small goblin will join him, Kulloda looks up at Bailyx and Irovax and nods. His eyes rest for a moment on the fey elf in the tree offering Irovax a drink. Might be an elf, Kulloda thinks, but smart. That one needs a drink. He then sets off across the clearing to the group around the dragon-woman.
He doesn't wait for an invitation but walks up to her, looks at her hair and face, squints his eyes a bit, trying to picture a dragon.
"You're the dragon? They want you to be god of adversity?" Kulloda asks. He nods his head back to Bailyx and Irovax. "Those two think it good joke to say I should talk to you. But wine is gone so why not. Why should mortals care for you or the gnome? Gods do god things. Mortals get kicked around when they do. You same?"
“Dog, you see about the same as me, I think. The gods and devils are sorting themselves out. Reason appears to be winning out. Somehow the devils are a solid bloc of voting. That troubles me. They must have a goal. They tried to cheat on multiple occasions before. Why not keep cheating to get what they want? Unless the goal lines up with voting someone they want into Limbo. And Finnegan knows about the cage, but I doubt many others do… do we tell them? Or is that too much like a threat?”
Paladin - warforged - orange
(Finnegan is talking with several devils and an angel in the center of the clearing.)
Tristan stands quietly at the fringe of the clearing, taking it all in and trying to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of him. Angels blaming mortals for a mess they have little influence or control over, a haughty elf dismissing the musings of mere mortals and rambling on about the virtues of a long life span. Tristan laughs to himself at this, in his experience, long life spans lead to more to long-winded speeches than any sort of worthwhile action. In any case, the Solars appeared to pay less attention to him than Tristan did.
Finally the vote. He watches and listens lost in his own thoughts. Haleek had the full measure of it, he would have to thank him again later. A gnome and a dragon, two unlikely candidates for gods in his eyes. And why is the Traveler such a point of contention?
He turns to Dog, Martin and the others “Do you know this gnome, how did he find himself on the shortlist to be a god? What is this cage that you speak of? I confess, there is much to this story that I still need to learn.”
He watches in barely hidden amusement as the half-orc approaches the dragon, still wearing her human form. He is not quite sure what to expect out of this encounter, maybe she will eat him right here in the clearing?
Martin looks to be sure no one is close enough to eavesdrop - even with exceptional supernatural hearing or lip reading.
“A divine cage. I don’t know its possibilities. The name alone sounds like enough to get them to turn from each other and start by killing us.”
Paladin - warforged - orange
Irovax looks for a long beat at the flask and then takes it. He takes a long draw from it and hands it back with plenty left inside.
Llyr & Sylvan speakers:
"Y'know, there is a sect of monks of Helm in Poria that have forsworn drink. The are all about protecting your body in order to protect yourself," says the disgruntled angel. "That kind of thing happens all the time, of course. It just irritates me that they claim it was Helm's word as spoken by Irovax, his heavenly scion. I said no such thing!"
He takes another draw, much shorter, from the flask when it is proffered again.
"Not that they are entirely wrong, of course. If you're addled with the drink, you make Helm's Work all the harder to receive."
There is a long pause, not exactly awkward, but enough to shift the conversation slightly.
"The same goes for you, elf," he says. "Your speech was mostly in the right. I lost my temper and I should not have."
His tongue loosens as the liquor warms his insides. His tone, though, remains melancholy. "Did you know I am the oldest iteration of any god? That means I have diverged more from my Lord than any other, of course. I'm the farthest from Him than any scion is from their god..."
He trails off in a moment of thought, a frown on his lips.
Martin, Tristan, and Dog:
Bailyx answers Tristan's question. "The gnome is a powerful mage, certainly. He has devoted his entire life to the pursuit of power, eschewing family, politics, notoriety, and wealth. I do not know how the hells happened upon him, but he is their choice for those reasons. The main problem is, as I understand it, that he is not ready, not yet. Past ascendancies to godhood required more power, more notability, than the mage has shown. I have been assured there is a plan to close the gap.
Kulloda and Gash:
The dragon looks utterly human, with smooth skin almost like that of an elf. Her eyes are a dark brown that borders on black. They are piercing, watching, clever eyes. Her shocks of white hair at her temples are the only signs of age she has granted herself. The dragon is surrounded by several angels and devils asking her questions about the hells, the gods, the mortals, and more.
Kulloda, whether due to lack of social awareness or lack of caring or perhaps both, barges past the divine beings to confront the dragon directly. His question, though, seems to grant him reprieve from any comment by the angels or devils, not that he would care.
The dragon, Xa'lawea, that is her name, looks at Kulloda intently for a long moment. "Like you, I have never felt the gods' presence in my life," she says in a throaty but smooth voice. "Perhaps because the gods cannot attend to everyone. They help only the few who find them or who they find in need of them. Have you ever needed the god of music and poetry? That is not the goddess I promise to be. Adversity finds everyone. It found you, I'll wager. Adversity is what made you strong. It is what you needed and what got in your way when you needed time or space to just breathe."
She looks to the devils around the gnome. "Ambition is for the few, though," she says at length. "The wealthy, the powerful, and those who aspire to those things. You, worn by your adversity, had no time for ambition. You had only you to look out for in those times. But a mortal who prays to the god of adversity could receive an answer. She could receive help from her suffering and find her own ambition when she is able to take that on."
Kulloda narrows his eyes, a deep furrow appearing on his forehead between his eyebrows when he frowns.
"Kulloda strong. Not suffer," Kulloda begins. He looks at Gash to make sure he's heard that part. Despite everything that he has endured he has never thought of it as suffering, and to admit that now isn't something he can do. But after a short pause he does nod at what Xa'lawea has said. "But you speak some truth. The powerful step on the weak and make them suffer. Sometimes their fault they're weak. Too bad. Sometimes not. Those ones, yes, should help stab powerful in groin or neck."
He thinks a moment longer but that's as far as he can take this train of thought for now. Happy with the idea of those being held down rising up and stabbing their oppressor in the groin he nods again.
"Yes you should be god," Kulloda says. He turns again to Gash. "Dragon's okay."
But he still looks over to where the group around the gnome are stationed and looks to see if Centulia sees him talking to Xa'lawea.
The Bladesinger waved his hand good-naturedly, wordlessly indicating that no offence had been taken and no forgiveness had been required.
“Disliking feeling different to those around us, are we?” - the Elf asked, rhetorically and in Common, while making a lazy mental note to try to remember that Helm was God of Protection, for the duration of the conversation - “How positively Mortal of you.” - Llyr quipped, sharp as ever but with an amicable tone and in good humour.
“You probably have a good few years under your belt, Feathers... Shouldn’t that make you entitled to thinking your own thoughts every now and again?” Shooting the Solar an amused, quizzical look — which involved tilting his head upwards to an almost uncomfortable degree, quite frankly — the member of the Courts once again felt just how different this aspect of Immortality was to the Courts — it probably showed.
”Still. A momentary outburst feels a little tame for a rebellious Angel… Why not just get blackout drunk, or something? Punch some sheep. You know, live a little!” Arms to his sides, the Eladrin offered a knowing wink, as the hints of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “ ‘tis the way of the Fair Folk.” — he said, and meant it.
“Oooh! I smell a ploy!” — the Eladrin cooed, almost more at than to Bailyx and his pensive audience, his body tingling in delight. His attention had been stolen from Irovax’s reply, yes, but only for a few moments — “Still, I confess he does look a touch… lacklustre?” — a shrug, before his eyes gravitated towards the large, tusked individual that had approached the Dragon — “I wonder if something sweetened the pot?”
(Meant to send this yesterday, had it all typed up and forgot to send)
Gash turns to Kulloda, "I don't know if anyone has ever told you this given your past... but you really are quite wise." he says with a chuckle. "Eloquent it is not, but it rings very true."
Gash finds himself torn between his two very tall friends, "hey Dog, are you seeing this? -- oh hold on, I'm going to join my new friend here. Come along?"
Gash listens intently to the dragon, "I have provided favor after favor for the heavens and still this is the respect we're given. What should you do for the mortals on this realm? How will you act? What are your motives for being a God?" Gash stops himself and thinks Dog's pension for rapid fire questions must be rubbing off on him finally.
Gash - Lvl14 Goblin Wizard - The High Court of the Aasimar Queen
Dog absentmindedly answers Kulloda: "dragon? once... on the road... we didn't get along..."
He is oddly quiet and uninquisitive amid all this talking. He nods to Martin, and just checks to make sure the bag of holding is still on his person, secure in the knowledge the plans are still in there. He's slowly realizing he may be in possession of a divine incendiary.
Emboldened by the angel’s answer, and by the other’s distant conversation with the dragon, Tristan strokes his short beard and tries to get some more information from the pair. “I didn’t quite catch how you two voted in the end. What do the heavens think about these two, do you choose Ambition or Adversity? And why is the Traveler such a point of contention in the two proposals?”
Llyr and Sylvan speakers:
Irovax continues speaking in Sylvan, despite Llyr switching to common.
"I suppose I am more and more mortal," the angel says, "the further I drift from Helm. If I rejoin him, I live on. If I am killed, then everything that makes me not Helm, well, that part of me is just as you mortals."
The angel finds himself sinking too far into melancholy. He straightens, raising his head. "What fiendish ichor did you share with me, elf?" he says with a grin, and chucks Llyr on the shoulder.
Tristan, Dog, Martin, and Llyr:
Bailyx is the one to respond, "Obviously we support no change to the heavens. Neither of us voted for either candidate. I suspect Irovax here holds on to the hope that no candidate will suffice and things will stay as they are. Given the choice, I do not much care."
Irovax snorts in response but says nothing. Bailyx watches the gathering of the divine for a long moment. "The Traveler was one of us, once. They made a mistake, an offense to all the gods. They nearly upset the balance. It was the last great crisis the heavens and hells faced. The hells, rightly, nearly brought war upon us in the heavens for it. So they were banished to the mortal realm, to forever wander with no plane of their own, no angels or followers except what they could convince to follow them from year to year. They still have enemies, especially among the hells for their transgression."
Kulloda:
Centulia has indeed noticed him taking to Xa'lawea. She does not look pleased but nor does she look angry. She gives him a curt nod and returns to talking with the gnome.
Kulloda and Gash:
Xa'lawea smiles down at Gash. "I will test mortals with adversity and, to the deserving, ease their burdens. I am the most feared red dragon of our time. I am not known for my compassion or gentleness. I aspire to be a god of the hells, a chance to ascend mortality. I am old and my time will one day end unless the gods raise me up to join them. Then I shall rule over my domain...my domain...with the practiced and thoughtful care that has kept me alive so long."
Kulloda shrugs as Xa'lawea continues speaking to Gash. She's confirmed everything he thought of the gods.
"Gods are gods," Kulloda says to Gash. "This one same. But maybe piss on powerful too not just weak."
Not seeing much more to be gained talking to the dragon further, or testing Centulia's patience more, Kulloda nods to the dragon, the closest he can come to a bow and turns to leave the gods to their machinations.
"Now where's the wine?"
"Little warrior," the woman says, looking up at Kulloda, "What would you say makes a desirable god?"
“The blood of virgins.” - Llyr shot back, deadpan, before taking another swig of the spirit, noticing the flask empty, and then producing two full bottles from his Bag. The things were beautifully made, but devoid of any label. The bladesinger uncorked them both, outright placed one in the Solar’s hands, clinked them and then drank from the one he’d kept.
“A Faun I know back home made it.” - he spoke, emphasising the word, less-than-pleased about the Hells taking credit for Fey achievements. The Eladrin calmly awaited until the bottle had made it to the Angel’s lips, before continuing - “Fairly certain he’s never cleaned anything in the however many centuries he’s been alive, but the bastard claims that that’s where the taste comes from, so who am I to argue?” He shrugged with a light chuckle.
“Any other takers?” - he asked of his immediate surroundings, believing they’d heard the interaction.
“So, if I’m understanding this correctly, you’re stating that there’s a very real chance that the two newest additions to the Pantheon that will rule over this Mortal plane for Eternity may consist of one that possesses neither the power nor the qualifications, and another that will almost assuredly prove to be a source of conflict?” - the Elf butted into the other conversation yet again, before pausing to think, still remarkably blasé about it all, one eyebrow quirking upwards in mild surprise - “… are you certain that my kind didn’t put you up to this?”
“Where might someone find the Traveler?”
Paladin - warforged - orange
"I wouldn't know, even if I cared to try and find him," says Bailyx.