Logos
Writing
- Pronouns
- she/they/he
Pale white smoke rises from the shrine, an offering which failed to reach the lord in heaven. Across the land, priests wail in anguish, for the One God who had conquered all the world had vanished from His throne, His angels retreating to the heavens and leaving the world without guidance.
In the gap, warlords have risen the world over, seeing opportunity. Mages dig into old archives, seeking the forbidden spells which will keep their people alive. Militias drill in ancient traditions, preparing for the battles to come.
In the absence, a thousand divine hands reach forth from the prisons the Pantokrator had fashioned for them, seeking the descendants of those who had once worshiped them, and offering power beyond imagining if they will resume their rightful piety.
And one of those hands, is yours. Who are you?
[] Ymir, The Son of Niefel
A mighty Jotun are you, buried in the great glaciers of Niefelheim whence the Rimtursar once came to conquer the world. You reach out to your people, the survivors of that glorious era, mighty in your ancestors image though lesser than in ancient days. Already, great jarls train the bondi in preparation to bring the dominion of winter across the land. Your might will be ascendant, and any who stand against you will face your sword.
[] Rhuax, The King of Magma
The Smouldercone, where once you entered the world, is diminishing, your children's flames growing dim. But brightly yet do the Abysians burn, for they are a proud people born when magma touched the sky. Already they train, preparing to unleash a tide of fire upon the world as is their birthright. And as any proud father, your hand will be there to aid them. Your flame will be ascendant, and any who stand against you will burn.
[] Ravana, King of Asura
Glorious Lanka stands yet, for all that the Pantokrator drove you to back to your island fortress and cast your broken body to the depths of Patala. Already, you hear your subjects calling out to their great king to lead them into a new golden age, as your mighty Raksha dominate the Vanara who came to your island thinking themselves conquerers. Your blade will cut the gods, and any who stand against you will fall.
[] Azazel, the Fallen
In the depths of the Inferno, bound by chains of blackest iron, you endure for your sons yet live. Mighty, you once were, an angel who descended upon the world to teach the people, and aid them. Beautiful and strong, they were, both in body and in mind; so eager they were to learn, and so widely they thrived. Is it any wonder that when your wives-to-be asked, you and your companions said yes? And now, you wait, chained alongside your companions in the Inferno, enduring for the day that your children will use the knowledge you gave them to break your chains, and free the Lords of Civilization once more.
[] Yù Dì, the Jade Emperor
The men of T'ien Ch'i even now organize themselves into an empire, a mighty edifice guided by its extensive bureaucracy, the ministers of rituals guiding the people in worship where the priests of the Pantokrator have abandoned their duty. And in turn, you will grant to them your divine Mandate, to rule well and harvest great bounties from the land. To prosper, and bring glory to the empire. Your people will cast down the false gods, and any who oppose them will find man ascendant over the monsters of the world.
[] Michael, Lord of the Host
God has departed this world, turning His face from it in disgust for its impiety, his throne left vacant. And indeed, scarcely a month has passed and the world entire has abandoned their faith. It is shameful, and the conclave has rendered their judgement: if the world will reject God, then it shall be as kindling. Those who yet accept His light shall be saved, and the rest burnt as a final offering that the land may be cleared. The Angelic Host marches, and all who stand in your way shall know the sword.
In the gap, warlords have risen the world over, seeing opportunity. Mages dig into old archives, seeking the forbidden spells which will keep their people alive. Militias drill in ancient traditions, preparing for the battles to come.
In the absence, a thousand divine hands reach forth from the prisons the Pantokrator had fashioned for them, seeking the descendants of those who had once worshiped them, and offering power beyond imagining if they will resume their rightful piety.
And one of those hands, is yours. Who are you?
[] Ymir, The Son of Niefel
A mighty Jotun are you, buried in the great glaciers of Niefelheim whence the Rimtursar once came to conquer the world. You reach out to your people, the survivors of that glorious era, mighty in your ancestors image though lesser than in ancient days. Already, great jarls train the bondi in preparation to bring the dominion of winter across the land. Your might will be ascendant, and any who stand against you will face your sword.
[] Rhuax, The King of Magma
The Smouldercone, where once you entered the world, is diminishing, your children's flames growing dim. But brightly yet do the Abysians burn, for they are a proud people born when magma touched the sky. Already they train, preparing to unleash a tide of fire upon the world as is their birthright. And as any proud father, your hand will be there to aid them. Your flame will be ascendant, and any who stand against you will burn.
[] Ravana, King of Asura
Glorious Lanka stands yet, for all that the Pantokrator drove you to back to your island fortress and cast your broken body to the depths of Patala. Already, you hear your subjects calling out to their great king to lead them into a new golden age, as your mighty Raksha dominate the Vanara who came to your island thinking themselves conquerers. Your blade will cut the gods, and any who stand against you will fall.
[] Azazel, the Fallen
In the depths of the Inferno, bound by chains of blackest iron, you endure for your sons yet live. Mighty, you once were, an angel who descended upon the world to teach the people, and aid them. Beautiful and strong, they were, both in body and in mind; so eager they were to learn, and so widely they thrived. Is it any wonder that when your wives-to-be asked, you and your companions said yes? And now, you wait, chained alongside your companions in the Inferno, enduring for the day that your children will use the knowledge you gave them to break your chains, and free the Lords of Civilization once more.
[] Yù Dì, the Jade Emperor
The men of T'ien Ch'i even now organize themselves into an empire, a mighty edifice guided by its extensive bureaucracy, the ministers of rituals guiding the people in worship where the priests of the Pantokrator have abandoned their duty. And in turn, you will grant to them your divine Mandate, to rule well and harvest great bounties from the land. To prosper, and bring glory to the empire. Your people will cast down the false gods, and any who oppose them will find man ascendant over the monsters of the world.
[] Michael, Lord of the Host
God has departed this world, turning His face from it in disgust for its impiety, his throne left vacant. And indeed, scarcely a month has passed and the world entire has abandoned their faith. It is shameful, and the conclave has rendered their judgement: if the world will reject God, then it shall be as kindling. Those who yet accept His light shall be saved, and the rest burnt as a final offering that the land may be cleared. The Angelic Host marches, and all who stand in your way shall know the sword.