[Southern Border Post] Forging the Faith (Kavala)

Kavala learns more about the Isur and Izurdin. She herself becomes the object of interest for other inhabitants of the Post.

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The Kingdom of Sultros is made up of five cities; Sultros, Vizerian, Coglias, Terras and Pitrius along with their own Citadels. In addition, the Kingdom encompasses hundreds of square miles of mountainous, nearly inhospitable land. Trading posts, border posts and a number of unique, exotic and often dangerous sites exist both above ground and below.

[Southern Border Post] Forging the Faith (Kavala)

Postby Gillar on July 2nd, 2017, 5:41 am

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As Kavala placed her fingers into the first of the sunken grips in the stone, she thought she could feel a muted hum in the stone. It didn't feel like any magic she had encountered thus far, it seemed more like a physical representation of the spiritual power that permeated the entire area. As she softly spoke the quiet chant of prayers while reaching for the next handhold, a thought occurred to her. Back at the Post, the isur had adorned their homes, businesses and pretty much every available spot with architectural wonders; arches, pillars, statues, tapestries and carvings representing all things isur. Even the small cabin that her an Emaneus stayed the night at on their trip into the mountains had the symbolic pillars. Yet as she climbed toward the place known to be one of if not the most holy of isurian sites, there were no grand religious trappings, no statues, no great architectural displays. There was only a sheer mountain face with finger holes sunk into the stone. Somehow, the lack of display however felt appropriate. The site was left as it was centuries ago. That in itself seemed profound.

Kavala continued her ascent. The handholds made the otherwise dangerous climb easier as their was always one in close enough proximity that all she needed to do is reach out with a hand or a foot and she would find a grip. As she approached twenty five feet from where she started, the small outcropping of rock was still nearly fifty feet further up. Night had now set in and the cool air allowed her to see her own breath. If she were to brave a look down, she could see the shapes of Emaneus and Istaris sitting around a small campfire.

A couple more feet she climbed before a thick fog drifted in and surrounded her. Visibility was reduced to less than a few feet in any direction. While that could be a bit troubling, what was more immediately concerning was the fact that the handholds she had been using had vanished. There was nothing but unmarred rock. Then came the sense that she was not alone; there was someone else there with her. She felt her hand reach out to feel the stone in front of her and she lost a beat or two of her heart. Her left hand was not her own. It was larger and thicker with raised silver veins parting the flesh. The hand touched the stone and seemed to be searching for some sort of grip yet there wasn't one. Kavala then felt herself look down at her other arm with its fingers sunk into the stone. It was the color of deep crimson with more silver veins stretching from hand to shoulder. Elaborate markings also formed a beautiful geometric pattern from his wrist all the way up to the shoulder. As one marked by multiple deities, Kavala recognized the marks on the arm as divinely related.

As a Dreamwalker, it didn't take Kavala long to recognize that she was sharing the body of a male isur. She shared his senses and even got a sense of his general emotions. However, what was happening still felt very different from Dreamwalking. What she was feeling was profoundly intimate and real as if she wasn't just reliving a memory but was actually there with whoever this man was. She felt his flesh hand switch places with his metallic one to hold his weight. Then, she felt his body tense for a moment before he pulled himself upwards with such force that it lifted his entire body further up the stone wall before quickly making his own grip in the rock; his fingers sinking into and once more holding him in place. The man took a glance below him yet there was only fog. Kavala could see that he wore a fur cloak with a silver clasp etched with the symbol of a fist holding a hammer. He also wore a fur loincloth and thick fur boots. His arms, chest and legs, his entire body, looked as though it was sculpted from a block of stone by a master artisan.

Kavala could feel every movement of his body as the man hung from the side of the rocky wall before continuing to climb. She could also sense his extreme fatigue. She could tell he hadn't slept in days before he decided to make such a climb. He was hungry; having shared any food he had managed to gather or hunt with others. She watched as the man was now but a couple arm lengths from the outcropping; a distance that he quickly closed. Kavala saw and felt the man's hands take grip on the edge of the outcropping before pulling his body up and over to rest on the ledge. Kavala felt the deep breaths of exhaustion and felt the burning of over-exerted muscles. As much as his body yearned for rest, the man pushed forward to kneel and then stand.

Kavala saw what he saw, a cave opening roughly cut into the mountain face and extending into the rock some unknown distance. The mist was still thick all around and Kavala could not make out much around her because of it. The man, apparently unarmed and unarmored, cautiously took a few steps to the mouth of the cave. Kavala got a flash of memory of the man losing his sword in a battle with some great beast; the details of what it was blurred as if the man did not want to remember all that happened. Reaching out, Kavala watched him run his metallic fingers across the stone before sinking his hand into it. She could feel the stone part as he effortlessly carved out a chunk of stone about a foot long and tapered and pulled it free from the surrounding rock. He then proceeded to quickly shape it into a pointed spike as one would shape a piece of wet clay. Now armed, he stepped into the cave.

The mist began to lighten as the man took several cautious steps forward. As the mist faded, Kavala's shared sight pierced through the darkness. The man's vision was such that he could see in black and white; yet no color as there was no light. The cave walls were rough as was the floor and ceiling. The further he went, the more uneven the floor became, forcing him to take greater care in his footing. Kavala could sense that the man had no fear of breaking an ankle on the uneven rock since he knew that breaking a bone was impossibly difficult for him.

As the time the two shared the man's body grew longer, Kavala felt more and more of his feelings, both physical and mental as well as beginning to see flashes of memories not her own. As the man made his way further and further into the cave, Kavala got a brief glimpse at another memory. The man was stumbling through a half-collapsed darkened tunnel. The smell of smoke filled the surrounding air and the muffled sounds of screams could be heard in the distance. The man climbed over piles of rock that blocked his way as he quickly yet cautiously pushed forward. The tunnel soon became too collapsed to go any further. The screaming could be heard coming from the other side of the collapsed tunnel. With focused determination driven by no small amount of fear, the man began digging into the rubble. With his metallic hand and arm, he cut the stone and flung it aside. He continued to dig, put at, cut through and throw the stone out of his way until he finally broke through to the other side. As he made a hole large enough to step through, he was greeted with devastation.

The tunnel he cleared his way through had led from the great cavern housing the main city of the Old Kingdom of the Isur, Izurith. The city was gone, destroyed by the eruption of a volcano just beneath it. The man had already led so many in an escape from the destruction but there was one more section that branched from the cavern that still had yet to be saved. The sounds of the screaming had told him people were still alive and he couldn't leave them behind. As he left the tunnel, he entered a small cavern that had once served as a housing district. Buildings that had once lined the cavern walls from floor to ceiling now lie in partial ruins. Isur architecture kept man of them in place although many others now littered the central plaza. While this particular housing district had been saved from the horrors that happened in the great cavern, the quakes had done their damage. Bodies and in places, their parts, could be seen sticking out of the rubble. As strong as the isur were, they were no match for tons of falling stone.

The man followed the sounds of the screams and cries for help through broken streets and collapsed alleyways. As he went, he would help lift stone and push through rubble to free those who were trapped. As he freed people, they worked to help free others at his direction. Men, women and children all had suffered. They were scared, confused and injured and they looked to the man above all others to help them. Help them he did as he led nearly 100 people from the ruined district, back through the tunnel he came through and to a branching tunnel that led to the outside world. Once outside, the people joined a mass of thousands who gathered at the base of a once great mountain that had since collapsed in on itself and now spewed ash and lava from its heart. The memory dissolved and Kavala could see now an opening a few yards forward that allowed an exit from the cave. Although she could still recall the images from the memory, the only words that she could remember being spoken by anyone were, "My Lord, Isengir and King Sultros."

The mist began to rise again as the man stepped out of the opposite side of the cave and onto a large cliff; the man Kavala realized was actually the legendary isurian king, Isengir Izurus Sultros. The mist was still relatively thin save for the edge of the cliff where it became a nearly impenetrable fog. Other than that, there was nothing; a dead end. The king walked several feet from the mouth of the cave and stopped. Kavala could feel a sense of hopelessness beginning to settle in. Sultros had led his people from their doomed home, traveled the Unforgiving, fought the elements, the beasts as well as the warped magical horrors brought on by what seemed like the end of the world only to find himself at a dead end. He followed the signs he thought Izurdin had left him; followed the path he thought had been laid out only to have it end in ruin. His people waited for him back down the mountain. They were tired, afraid, sick, injured and desperate.

Left with nothing else, Sultros dropped to one knee, lowered his head and prayed aloud. Although his words were spoken in isur, Kavala understood them. "Divine Father, we've been through so much. We've lost so much. Have we not been strong enough? Patient enough? Have we not overcome the impossible? I have run out of answers for their questions. Now, when I was certain that the answers would be found here I find nothing. I've failed."

There was a deep silence. There was no sounds of wind, wildlife, anything. As a mother, Kavala recognized the sadness and need a child had for its parent. Sultros, despite being 100 years old and the leader of an entire race, now seemed ever more like a son looking for his father in desperate need of comfort and guidance.

Then came a voice from behind. It was deep yet held a softness to it. To Kavala it came by surprise and startled her. However for Sultros, Kavala could feel an immense weight suddenly lifted from his overburdened shoulders. "Isengir..."

Sultros still kneeling, turned to face the one who spoke. "Divine Father..." His head still lowered, he slowly raised it. Kavala then saw the one who Sultros had called out to. He was an isur, only slightly taller than others she had seen. He had short, dark hair and his face was clean shaven. His left arm was a brilliant crimson and his body was nothing short of perfect. He was dressed in a leather battle skirt and black boots. The smell of forge fires filled the surrounding area. Izurdin stood before them.

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a soft look on his face, Izurdin told Sultros, "Enough of that. You need not kneel to me. Stand up."

Sultros rose to his feet and took a couple steps toward Izurdin before stopping. His entire posture fell as he stumbled over the words. "Father, I beg your forgiveness. I've failed."

Izurdin shook his head, approached Sultros and embraced him. Kavala could feel the god's touch as if it were on her own flesh. He was warm, extremely warm. The chilled air of the mountains melted away in such close proximity to Izurdin. "Isengir...you need not ask my forgiveness. You did not fail. It is I who should beg your forgiveness." Izurdin released Sultros and took a step back. "I was not there when our people needed me most. I left you alone with little more than a vague vision to follow. To not be able to step in and save all of you is unforgivable. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't."

Izurdin began to slowly pace back and forth in front of Sultros. Kavala couldn't help but notice that the god appeared nervous; a concept that came no short of baffling. "All that happened...the city's destruction, the land's upheaval, the fires, the unending devastation...It was Ivak. The humans betrayed him, they killed the one thing that could calm the raging volcano and released his wrath upon the world." Izurdin paused for a moment, the look on his face was one of pain.

"I could not let his rage destroy what I had worked so hard to help create. I had to stop him. I imprisoned him deep underground and muffled his rage. To one such as Ivak, this was a terrible yet necessary thing to do. It took everything I had to do it and left me unable to help my children...to help you."
Izurdin looked to Sultros, his gaze piercing deeply, so deep that Kavala felt he was looking directly at her.

"As I said, you did not fail. My son, you did what only a god could do. You saved your entire race from certain destruction at the hands of enraged god of fire who in his despair thought to destroy the entire world. You acted when I could not. All that was lost, all that was sacrificed, by our people, by you, has not been in vain. You have succeeded where I failed." Izurdin approached Sultros once more, raised his hand and rested it on the king's shoulder. "Isengir Izurus Sultros, King and Savior of the Isur, my son...now, my champion." Kavala watched as Izurdin's hand was instantly consumed in a crimson fire. The flames painlessly spread from his hand to Sultros' metallic shoulder, down his arm and engulfed his hand. The existing geometric shapes and patterns of his existing gnosis marks flared with a silver light as more patterns grew and spread down to his hand, over his fingers and on his palm. Kavala could feel an awareness fill Sultros' mind as his connection to Izurdin reached its pinnacle. Kavala felt as though she were filled with a love stronger than any bond imaginable. Every movement, every action, every word, every feeling would be an extension of Izurdin himself.

The crimson fire faded and silver brilliance of Sultros' marks dimmed. Sultros looked at his hand and the patterns that covered it. Although an occasion to be celebrated above all others, he did not smile. Looking back at Izurdin he said, "Thank you father...this isn't what I was expecting but thank you." His attention was elsewhere however. "What of our people. They await below. Returning to them as your Champion after all that has happened, will be of little comfort."

Izurdin gave a slight smile. He had just named Sultros his Champion, something that had not been done in 500 years and all the boy could think of was his people. Truly the god had chosen correctly. "You are right. I did not give you that vision that led you here only to name you Champion."

Kavala could then see the vision given to Sultros. She saw the deaths of his people and destruction of his homeland in all its gruesome detail all consumed in the fires of rage. She saw Sultros leading thousands across an unforgiving landscape to a small mountain peak. She saw the view from a cliff that, while lacking details, filled her with hope.

Izurdin nodded his head and pointed past Sultros, into the heavy fog. Sultros turned around and walked to the edge of the cliff. As he approached, the fog began to fade as sunlight burned it away. Kavala shared the view with Sultros as they looked down upon a forested valley surrounded by mountains. There were clear streams and lakes, grassy foothills and snowcapped peaks. In the distance stood a mountain peak that stood above all others. Around it were four other peaks slightly smaller. "That my son, is my gift to all of you. A new home, safe from the outside world and capable of providing for ages to come. That is what you have led our people to."

Sultros could not contain himself. The enormity of it all brought him to his knees, weeping. Izurdin approached, knelt down and embraced his son. "You will lead our people to rebuild and prosper once more. However, Ivak will not be held forever. I've foreseen the day when he is released. A storm of fear will threaten the land. Prepare the people for that day. Until then, my son, welcome home."

Kavala felt herself blink and things felt different. She was in her own body, Sultros was gone. It had been night when she began her climb yet now the sun was rising. She was kneeling at the edge of the cliff and in the distance she could see the forested valley and the five peaks of the New Kingdom of Sultros. The air around her smelt like forge fires. Behind her, she heard a familiar voice. "Hello Kavala, it's nice to finally meet you in person." Behind her stood Izurdin.

"I have a feeling you may have a few questions. You have my attention for as long as wish." Izurdin smiled and moved to sit on the ground nearby.
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[Southern Border Post] Forging the Faith (Kavala)

Postby Kavala on July 3rd, 2017, 3:50 am

ImageThe Konti was swept up in Isengir Izurus Sultros' life, his emotions, and what he experienced here in this holy place. She'd Dreamwalked countless lives and felt history as if it had happened to her. But this... this was on such a larger scale that her mind struggled to wrap around all the burden's King Sultros had to bear. Her limbs shook because unlike him, she was not the strength his body was, and yet she felt his exhaustion, hunger, and despair keenly. Life was circular, and it was not lost on her that she'd come to this far off land to spread the word as a second hand witness of what had happened in Wind Reach and the rest of the land as Ivak was released. But instead, she'd been granted a first hand audience to the start of all of it, when Ivak fell and was locked away until such a time as the world could breath and Ivak could be trusted to walk the world again.

In a way, there was a bitter irony to seeing Isengir's life. He was what she considered a male of worth with values that stretched into every corner of his life. It was people like him that had saved the world, quietly, when the Gods sought to destroy it. Sure, the pantheon had done its part in restraining Ivak, but without the direct action of mortals, there would have been nothing left to save.

It was humbling, holding that knowledge in her heart, because looking around at her life and the times she lived in Kavala wasn't sure there was much of that left in the world. Leo was one such person, true enough, and so too had his companion Taln had been. And now Leo walked the world a Champion as well. She wasn't made of such strength. There was too much bitterness in her heart, too much hatred of the humans, and a whole lot of suspicion of others. Isengir was all that she was not. He had selflessly quested to follow Izurdin's Word and Will and had lead his people here in order to find answers which he in the end got and went on to solidify his race's place in the world. The Isur thrived and prospered. And that fact had happened not because of sheer chance and happenstance. No. They worked to make sure they held a place in the world.

Kavala looked down at her own arms where she knelt at the edge of the cliff, for a moment seeing the male's thick gifted limb superimposed over her own thin frame. Her arms were pale and threaded with ornate scales that wove up and around her forearms from the palm of her hands to the crook of her elbow. The flow of scales flared across her shoulders and onto her back. Her arms were defined from years of training and strong in the way she needed them to be, but they would never be the perfection the Isur forms were. For a moment she let her mind flash scenes from the Outpost she'd been visiting. Isur culture was so different than human culture. It was more devote, more purposed, and far selfish... and that was the core of her problems with humans. They looked to themselves first and foremost whereas the events she'd just witnessed were full of the selflessness of a single individual bent on saving his people. She could understand Isur's reaction. Isengir never once thought of himself. He pushed forward through a whole host of setbacks to get answers... real answers... to the problems of the world. Would anyone she knew go to such lengths? Could she herself? Kavala didn't know. She hoped the situation in the world would not get to that dire status again anytime soon. And maybe it hadn't because of people like Isengir themselves. Maybe there was a quiet war going on to prevent such escalations in the future.

The Konti felt a mixture of hope and despair, grateful she'd been privy to seeing this and witnessing somewhat first hand what Isengir had gone through and what he had sacrificed.

Being a Dreamwalker, Kavala was forever the witness to profound events but rarely was she a person who played a roll in them. She'd met Gods and Goddesses before, but never under the circumstances she'd witnessed in countless Dreamwalks and now this ascent to this holy place. And so it was with shock she froze when she heard the voice from behind her that was filled with the warmth of hundred forges.

Slowly, Kavala turned, still on her knees, and took a good look at the God as he settled himself into place across from her. She blinked, seeing his visage waver a moment, before she realized that her own tears were hindering her vision.

"My Lord." She said, bowing her head to acknowledge him, then lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Kavala was not his equal, but she would not prostrate before a God whom she felt would never demand such things.

"And you, My Lord. I have witnessed second hand many things you have done and each time I have been left with so much to think of after the surprise of the actions fades." She said, studying him boldly but not rudely. Kavala had the deepest urge to call him Father because of all he'd created on this world... but sadly she fit into none of his work.

"I do, Sir, and I am incredibly grateful for your attention. Even among Them, I feel like your wisdom and knowledge of the world and the way it works is far beyond even perhaps the youth of those I look too." She referred to Rak'keli and more importantly Nysel, who were both young Gods and Goddesses, neither having no more than a handful of hundred years to their life. Eyris was a different story.

"I never knew, being raised among humans, that the Kingdom was here as it is and all that it entails. There is such beauty here... such a sense of history and nobility. I understand when your people speak of their purpose and I see the truth of it. They are not, however, perfect. But I respect the strives they make to try to ascend to live up why you created them. These stories, no histories, Emaneus has shared with me have been precious and revealing. They give strength to even one such as me, a Konti with no Isur blood at all. I want you to know, above all else, how privileged I feel to have gotten to know one of your priests and all that he has offered me. I wish others in the world could see what a race can be if they work towards it." She said, heartfelt, because it was how the Isur had touched her and the impacts they had left on her that would resonate with Kavala her entire life.

"There is so much to ask. There is so much I want to know. Still, the main questions are few enough." Kavala took a deep breath then than met Izurdin's gaze with her own pale blue eyes. "I feel like there is something spreading through the land, something that wants this beautiful civilization the Isur enjoy to fail. There are other places in other lands that are striving to reach the level of the Isur as well, and yet there are forces that are fighting against them as well. In Riverfall it is the Ruv'na with their static that block the gnosis network completely. Is that true...that these forces are organized or driven? Or am I wrong in my intuition of them being harbringers of some greater darkness? I can't put a finger on it, Izurdin, enough to explain it well to someone such as you are... but can you validate or deny this assumption for me?" She asked quietly. Kavala would give him a chance to answer, but not before telling him more.

"There are people like me who feel driven to action. We train hard - our bodies and our minds- and we travel across the ocean to pass on knowledge, we seek lost arts and lost knowledge, in the physical remians of civilization or even in the Chavi of others. It feels urgent that we do so, almost desperate... and if it is something you are willing to tell me I'd like to know why."
She added, before growing silent.

It was just one of her many questions, but it was the biggest and most important in her mind. The second she would ask, the moment the opportunity arose was simply...

"Is there anything I can do to aid your people or yourself?"
The Konti would say when an appropriate pause in the conversation came. Really, those were the two most pressing questions in her mind.
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Please Note:
  • This pc is maxed out in Animal Husbandry, Medicine, Observation, Rhetoric, and Socialization.
  • Kavala a Master Teacher. Students she is teaching in thread can earn more than the maxium 5 XP per thread.
  • This pc has a Konti Gift of Animal Empathy. She has a superpower from a Riverfall city event that allows animals of all sorts and Kelvics (in kelvic form) to speak clear understandable Common around her.
  • Kavala is a Konti but was raised in the Drykas culture so her accent is entirely Pavi though she can speak Common, Pavi, and Tukant well. She's only conversational in Kontinese.
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[Southern Border Post] Forging the Faith (Kavala)

Postby Gillar on July 13th, 2017, 2:33 am

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Izurdin smiled warmly at Kavala’s compliments. As he did, the chilled, morning mountain air around them grew comfortably warmer. “Thank you for the kind words. In regards to my fellow gods and goddesses, they have their moments and are good at what they do. So many lack the patience however to truly master their parts. In some cases, that is a good thing. As for my children, you are right, they are not perfect. Yet, despite their flaws, they are making progress.”

The god sat with a bit of a lean with one leg bent and the other extended out in front of him. His arms were folded over his knee as he engaged in conversation. During a brief pause, Izurdin motioned with a directed glance at Kavala and said, “Please, have a drink. You’ve had a long climb.” In Kavala’s hand appeared a tankard. It was as heavy as a silver but was transparent. Filling it to the brim was a rose-colored liquid that smelled like peaches with a hint of grape. If she were to taste it, it would taste like her favorite drink, alcoholic or not and was either cool or warm depending on what she wanted it to be. Kavala also noticed that Izurdin held a tankard of his own crafted from silver and etched with all manner of indecipherable glyphs.

“Emaneus is one I am especially proud of. Although he hasn’t mentioned it to you, he is in line to become my next High Priest for the entire Kingdom. He has also spoke quite highly of you. Even as we sit here, he prays to me for you.” Izurdin took a drink and listened intently as the conversation with Kavala continued.

When it came to her question about forces rising up against various civilizations that she’d seen and heard of, he replied, “Your assumptions are correct. There are many different things that have, since the unleashing of Ivak’s wrath, been growing in strength, complexity and the desire to bring what remains of civilization to its knees. Of course, there is always the threat of Rhysol. Though he is quite powerful and as flourished since his murder of Sylir, he is careful not to overtly enrage the other gods any further. He remains in the shadows, spreading his lies and chaotic desires with more subtlety.” Izurdin paused, shifted a bit and continued.

“Although Rhysol’s influence touches so many as does that of some of the other more nefarious gods, what is most troubling is that the various threats you elude to are not all influenced directly by the divine. A large part of this greater darkness you speak of is being ushered in by the hands of mortals.” Izurdin took a large gulp from his tankard and sat it down. “The forces you speak of are more driven than they are truly organized. This drive is spurred by the general decrease in influence most gods have had in the world since the Valterrian.”

During the discussion, Kavala would notice that her tankard never seemed to empty and remained as full as she wanted it to be.

“That thing you can feel, that darkness, that looming threat, it is real but it doesn’t take a form you may recognize. While I am not much for secrets, I will share this one with you. This world exists as it does because the gods and goddesses use the power of their ideas to shape it into what you see around you. These ideas are the various concepts of reality that we personify; strength and weakness, love and hate, life and death, good and evil, those sorts of things. The ability to establish, nurture and expand those ideas comes from the influence granted to us through mortal worship. Your prayers and actions in our name and those of others like you, empower us and allow us to keep the world as you know it continuing. Before the Valterrian, there were significantly more worshippers who allowed our ideas to flourish. After, well, let me just say that the forge isn’t as hot as it used to be. The Ruv’na are a symptom of this loss of divine influence and weakened ideas. They are slowly gaining strength and are not confined to Riverfall. They use a divine gift to challenge not just the need for gods but to challenge our very existence. By severing our connections with our worshippers and even killing them, they are slowly weakening us. Weaken the gods enough and our ideas fade and vanish. Lose those ideas, lose the world as you know it.”

Izurdin slowly rose to kneel on one knee. “Rhysol, the Ruv’na, various mortal uprisings as well as some of the other gods all feel driven to solidify their own ideas over the world at the expense of everything else. While some of them are more aware than others, as civilizations grow, there are naturally more potential worshippers for the gods and our influence will increase once more. The idea of prosperous civilizations who have faith in the gods and the gods with faith in them, is a threat to those corrupt forces. It’s not a threat that is likely to explode in the next few days, seasons or even years but it’s only a matter of time; the perception of which depends on who you are."

Izurdin's tone lightened, “Now the brighter side to all of this involves something you yourself just mentioned; those, like yourself who feel driven to oppose this threat. It’s something I am actually rather proud of. You see, the great thing about being the personification of patience is that I am able to focus on and plan for the future. I can see the various pieces and parts that make up various actions and follow them to a greater whole with relative ease. While I am no predictor of the future, I have planned quite well for it. Back when I developed the plan that would be used to develop this new world, I saw the potential for the very threat we’ve talked about. That is one of the reasons I sent my son, Izurith to help model for and guide the early humans. As a result, the isur were created. They are one way I thought to prepare for this potential threat. A race of people who, as you say, are driven to action, to train their minds and bodies to be as perfect as possible to always fight to better themselves. I didn’t stop there. With the help of a few others of my kind, we sprinkled the seeds of such concepts into the souls of mortals all in the hopes of keeping civilization alive even when things look grim. Those who feel the way you describe, it is because, long ago, their souls were chosen to embrace those traits. While they don’t always reveal themselves in every life, those they do feel them with the urgency and near desperation you mentioned.”

Izurdin rose to his feet and motioned for Kavala to approach him. If she chose not to, Izurdin would approach her. Raising his hands to touch her shoulders, the god’s touch was warm and comforting, like being held in a loving parent’s arms. “Kavala, there is another reason why you especially feel the need to be better than you are at any given point in time. A reason why you feel so strongly about my children and what makes them who they are. It’s the same reason why Emaneus told you about Izurith and the first isur and one of the reasons I wanted him to bring you here.”

The god smiled and said, “As you are quite aware, you have been other people besides Kavala. When you feel ready, look deeper into your own Chavi and see who you were back in the time of Izurith. You will see why you specifically feel the way you do and you will understand what I mean when I call you, child.”

“As for helping me or my children, continue to model for them what an outsider to the Kingdom can be like. They are too quick, albeit for good reason, to judge outsiders harshly without context. For me, you can continue embracing that driven feeling and fight back against those such as the Ruv’na.” Kavala felt the warmth of Izurdin’s embrace grow on her right shoulder as his hand was consumed in a crimson flame. Sparks of silver peppered outward from the flame as her shoulder was painlessly etched with geometric patterns. Kavala could hear the sounds of hammers striking anvils, of fires being stoked and of heated blades being thrust into water. She had been marked by Izurdin.

Izurdin's posture remained open as if looking forward to how Kavala would respond.
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Gillar
Forging the World
 
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