Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Elias Caldera on July 9th, 2018, 1:29 am

The Ring of Memory


Despite its divine origins The Ring of Memory initially comes across as a simple, if not unassuming band of rough silver inlaid with a stroke of equally course bronze. A crudely crafted piece of jewelry hardly worth more than a few mizas at the market, and certainly not anything astonishing, let alone special enough to warrant a second glance. In fact, even to the magically inclined, the supernatural empowerment bestowed upon the ring is difficult to discern upon first inspection and requires a surprising amount of concentration and scrutiny before one realizes the scope of what it is exactly they are looking at.

Whether this curious anonymity for an item of such magnitude was intentional in its original design, an aspect that was added later after the Valterian had left Qalaya more reserved and withdrawn, or simply a by product of its shoddy creation centuries ago still serves to endlessly annoy scholars and historians alike who continue to debate the fact to this day, for there is little that followers of Qalalya abhor more than an unsolved mystery. Yet, one thing is for certain to both the faithful and the otherwise; once adorned upon the wearer’s finger, the full capabilities and sheer significance of the power held within the ring becomes instantly clear.

Forged nearly six centuries before the great collapse that sundered empires and reshaped the world, this ring allows the wearer to record a tiny piece of themselves in their writing. Perhaps their voice is recorded in writing so that when read, the wearers voice is heard. If a description of the wearer is written, their ethereal image can be seen. If a book is written about the wearer, they may actually regain some form of immortality through the written word; a manifestation of the wearer powered by the writing in the book as fueled by the magic of the ring.

A number of scratches and strange notches can be found all across the ring. While Initially easy to dismiss as the toil of time having left it aged mark on this ancient artifact, upon further inspection it becomes quite clear that the markings were made on purpose. Though meaningless to the current wearer, each scratch and nick in the metal once held great and particular importance to the previous owners who wielded the ring in the past. In ages gone by, wearers would often leave their impression upon the ring if ever they felt they needed to remember a certain moment. By grazing their fingers across said mark, they left an imprint of it that held no significant magical or godly importance, but instead simple acted as a reminder whenever they felt their memory waning. Thanks to the powerful magic coursing through the item however, those that rub the ring today can feel a crude sense of recollection bubbling up beneath each and every scar the ring holds. Though they don’t hold any specifics, a wearer can feel certain vague anamnesis that can often aid them in recalling a similar memory of their own. Forgotten the name of someone who you really shouldn’t have? There’s a little notch on the underside of the ring where Suval of Kadaria left a small hook shaped mark that will help with that. Can’t recall which path you took to get here? Imrahil’s zigzagging scratches across the bronze inlay could be of some aid in helping you find your way back... and so it goes on, each wearer leaving just a bit of themselves behind to aid the next.

Secret :
‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ History is a funny thing, far too often is it warped when it benefits us, forgotten when it inconveniences us, or worst and perhaps most commonly of all, is simply lost to us. Qalaya’s endless struggle as the goddess of memory is one wrought with many defeats each and every day. The struggle to record and preserve is as daunting and terrible a task as any other, for every memory written and exploit put to pen, there is a book burned or scholar lost. The battle is endless and often seems like a hopeless one, but things were not always so.

As with all good stories -or in this case, history lessons- it begins with a hero. A champion actually, and Qalaya’s champion to be exact. Luon of Bavaros was his name, or as he would come to be known, Luon the Chronicler. A jovial and prideful youth of some prestige, he was still but a young man when his father passed away. As the royal court appointed histographer to a king of a country so old and irrelevant its name no longer merits mentioning, Luon’s father had surpassed his humble position as scribe and unofficially risen to a station equivalent to that of an official adviser to the crown. Wise and patient, the chronicler proved himself integral to the throne, acting more as an adviser than merely a simple scribe as his class should have dictated. Much to the chagrin of his betters in the court, his words of wisdom aided the king at every turn, and arguably, helped shape the very kingdom he served.

As one can imagine, this did not sit well with the lords and ladies of this kingdom, and they did not sit idly by for very long. Though he served faithfully and honestly, the chronicler was seen as little more than an old upstart who hoped to steal power away from the advisers and control the king. A vicious campaign of slander and defamation followed as the chronicler’s name was dragged through the mud by those who sought to bring him low. Such was the relentlessness and scope of this disparagement that even the king himself, a man who owed much to his old friend and colleague, began to distrust his once loyal companion.

Eventually, he was driven from the court, branded a traitor and a usurper, and forced to flee the very kingdom he had helped flourish. The chronicler did not live long after that. Exiled and ruined, a disease soon claimed his mind first, then his body soon after. Luon, his son and only heir, watched as his father, the greatest man he had ever known, faded from this life a broken and wretched thing. He damned himself for his father’s fate, for while the chronicler had been humble and wise enough to never boast or brag about his power, Luon had not been so prudent. Often he would gloat and vaunt his father’s control over the court, claiming he was the true king of the land, not the buffoon whose backside merely warmed the throne. Heartbroken, destitute, and filled with a burning furor at not only himself, but those who had cast them out, Luon dedicated himself to bringing ruin to those who had done the same to him.

As the son of a scribe however, Luon was no warrior. He could not swing a sword nor notch an arrow, let alone topple a king from his throne with might of magic or arms. What Luon did have however, was his skill with ink and quill, for he was the son of a scribe, and like his father before him, and his father before him, words had always been their greatest weapons. He spent years writing essays against the king and the court, raking their names through the mud with as many lies and slanderous curses as he could. When that failed to garner the change he sought, he instead turned to something far more damning; the truth. So it was that Luon of Baravos set himself out on a crusade of vengeance, dedicating himself not to slaying his enemies or destroying their goods, but instead by revealing the truth to everyone who would listen.

The chronicler’s son was inexorable and uncompromising in his one man war. His words condemned the king and his cronies at every turn, bringing to light all the flaws and mistakes the throne had made not only in the past, but also with each passing day of the present. In his tireless pursuit of condemnation, Luon discovered much about the king that was worthy and good, along with much about his father’s own rise to power that spoke ill of the man, but chose to instead hide it in service to his main cause. Publishing and printing these works himself, Luon’s campaign eventually garnered interest in the people of the land, and from there the malcontent he felt spread like a wildfire to others. Three times was Luon arrested, and three times was the king forced to release him for fear of revolt, for the people took to the chronicler as a hero. Inevitably, and despite his best efforts, the king was eventually disposed and replaced by a new lord who looked to Luon to become his new chronicler.

Victorious, Luon heartily agreed, and soon found himself in a position of great influence and import at the king’s side… much like his father had been in years ago.

With his bloodless triumph over the enemy he had sworn to see undone, the chronicler now found himself burdened by a great deal of time to consider all that had transpired. This self-scrutiny and examination proved to be quite the pivotal moment in Luon’s life, for it was during that time that he realized what a terrible mistake he had made. In himself he saw a fraud who had corrupted the ideals of his father, had the used the same deplorable means as his enemies, and worst yet, made the greatest mistake any historian could commit; he had failed to heed the past, and now he was simply repeating it. For as he looked about the court room he had so proudly called home, he saw in the faces of the those around him the same disparaging glares they had given his father, and realized he would soon be just as doomed.

Troubled by his realization and disturbed by how far he had fallen from the ideals of the man in whose name he had begun this struggle for in the first place, Luon recused himself from courtly life, and in fact public life all together. Secluding himself away in a tiny hamlet far from the capital, the chronicler set himself a new grand task to undertake; redemption.

Though a man in his middling years at that point, the old scribe was determined to make up for his mistakes. It was during these years that Luon first garnered the attention of Qalaya.

Truth be told, the chronicler had always held the Inscriptrix’s eye, but not in the good way. She had abhorred his use of history as a weapon to be bent and manipulated to suit his own goals, but now, as a man more mature and regretful, Luon had dedicated himself to the truth and the truth alone. From his humble home he penned many a historic recounting of not only his own past but also that of many others around the world. It would seem like almost everyday Luon would be packing up from one adventure to some far flung corner of the world only to return home to finalize his work before leaving again.

Eventually, through his dogged diligence of recording the truth, Qalaya presented herself to the now white haired scribe, offering him her boon. Instead, Luon, now a cantankerous old curmudgeon of a man, challenged the goddess to a debate. Naturally, one would be both shocked and dismayed by such haughty discourtesy, but by then the chronicler was a wizened and much learned historian, one who had traveled the world and seen much in his time. The mysteries that now eluded were the kind that were so ancient, or so bafflingly perplexingly that only a god could hope to uncover.

Not one to be undone, Qalaya agreed, and some say much to her chagrin, for it began a common routine between the two of them to argue and deliberate over matters of the world and its lost past. The kind of things that not even the gods themselves could know for certain. It was also not uncommon for more than a few others deities to partake in these great battles of wit and wisdom. Often the other lords and ladies of the Uthalas were called in to settle the score once and for all, or to even engage in the deliberations, adding their own vast knowledge and insights into the argument. These ‘debates’ often ended in screaming matches between the champion and godess, with either the god storming out of Luon’s home in a flurry, or Luon storming out… only to sheepishly return a few minutes later once he’d realized he had nowhere else to go. Yet each time the two met, Luon could always be found with a new gnosis from his goddess, who despite her apparent huff, would always return with a smile for her chronicler.

One day, their discussion over the origins of man grew so heated and furious that Qalaya’s tumult shook the very foundations of the house. She stormed off in a fury the likes of which had truly frightened old Luon, and also shamed him, for he knew he had gone too far with his wild accusations and insults this time. He had to apologize, and to that end he went about cobbling something together that could quiet the ire of his lady. When Qalaya eventually returned, she found Luon there awaiting her, his gift in hand. It was ring. Poorly crafted and laughably designed, for the scribe was no jeweler or smith by any standard. It was not the ring itself however that melted Qalaya’s heart that day, but instead the fact that Luon was offering it to her on one bended knee.

Despite he better judgement, the goddess accepted, imbuing the ring with her power.

Luon went on to pen many more works after that, each one more imbued with his own personality in order to aid the reader in their journey throughout the pages. His works often included a tiny visage of himself that would frequently bombard the reader with questions and queries about what they thought about what they had read. While many saw this as an annoyance, many more recognized the merit in having one’s understanding questioned instead of blindly adhering to what was written. Luon also later went on to write and create a number of laws and edicts for his country at the King’s request. Using his vast wealth of knowledge from his trips abroad and his godess's wisdom, these proved exemplary in shaping the future of the nation Though they assured his kingdom would continue to prosper peacefully for generations to come, it should be noted that when the Aleahean empire eventually annexed the kingdom nearly two centuries later, the works of Luon the chronicler were also absorbed and integrated into almost every aspect of the empire as well. Avatars of the humble old scribe can still be found ‘haunting’ the books and tomes of old Alahean works that are occasionally dug up by adventurers and scholars today.

Noteworthy Wielders

Secret :
Unlike many other magical treasures of the past, the ring of memory was not something to be hidden away by jealous mages or stolen from burial chambers by daring thieves. It was in fact frequently traded between historians and scholars over the years, and was seen more as a commodity to be freely shared between the like minded pursuers of truth who adhered to Qalaya’s aspects and beliefs. Many a great writer found themselves in the procession of the ring at one point or another, either through simple barter and acquisition, or sometimes more divine intervention.

Karius the Wise of the Suvan Empire in particular was known imbue his personality and wisdom into dozens of books he’d written. He’d also often convert dusty old history lessons into fun and engaging children’s stories with his image as the story teller to help those who could not read, or the youth who could to better understand what it was they were reading.

Bali Suvante was highly regarded for her amazing work in translating over three thousand different pieces of work in dozens of different languages during her lifetime. Though she originally began her daunting quest with mere pen and paper, she eventually acquired the ring, making her task far less harrowing over time.

Then there was Beleron the warrior scribe, who was said to have shed as much ink on parchment as he did blood on the battlefield. His recollections of Suvan battle tactics are the only surviving documentations of such things to have been found after the Valterian. Many surmise that without his work and the ring’s power ensuring its safety, such knowledge would have never seen the light of day after the calamity.

Unfortunately, the unlike Beleron’s treatises, little survived the great collapse brought about by Ivak’s rage, and not even the ring’s power could help stave off such unbridled destruction. So much was lost when the world fell. Everything changed that day, including Qalaya herself, who some say descended into a deep depression in the face of such tremendous loss. If such is the case, then it would explain why the ring has been absent for so much of post-valterian history. Since the catastrophe, only three people have openly declared themselves as its wielder. The first was a Zeltivan scholar in 392 AV whose studies on the Void and beyond were the only works published bearing his essence before the ring abruptly disappeared again. When it next resurfaced it was in the hands of another Zeltivan some sixty years later known as Frederik Stevenson, most well known for his part in the Kenabelle Wright’s expedition to circumnavigate Mizahar. Its believe Mr. Stevenson had intended to use the ring to document his travels, but his untimely passing seemed to have interrupted his efforts before he had a chance to. With his death and subsequent replacement by the on Bethany Edgetower, the ring had once again found its way into the hands of a devout follower of Qalaya. If there had been any hope of its use and return to the world, it died with Mrs. Edgetower in the harsh jungles of Falynder.

Many speculate that the ring was lost to the Myrians who had slain the good linguist, but others say that it found its way to Kenebelle Wright herself, a close friend of Mrs. Wright. Though if such was the case, then unfortunately like Mrs. Wright, ring too can be assumed just as lost to the world as the great explorer is.

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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Quzon on July 9th, 2018, 1:55 am

Makutsi - Ring of Rivers Guardian


Ring of Rivers Guardian - This ring transforms the wearer into an exceedingly rare, perceived as extinct form of Otani; once child of Laviku, who claims complete allegiance to Makutsi. These Otani, known as Maku after their adoptive mother, serve as guardians over inland bodies of water such as rivers, springs, lakes and oases.

Origin & Creation :
Arnaud Lagrave, known in his later years only as the Drowned Man of Sunberth, was a slave who lived in the mining city during the time of Emperor Kovinus Woniam Nymkarta’s rule over the Alahean Empire. In his time, the government of Sunbeth was supremely fueled by their own individual lusts for power. However, anyone of true influence earned their prosperity on the backs of the slave labor who worked the mines. Arnaud Lagrave was one such person born to be stepped on by the upper echelon of society. Arnaud was a simple man. In fact, he was a short, nervous-looking man with mousy features who only ever wanted to be free of those who opposed him.

Arnaud had rebellious thoughts, but never did much with his life. He was a slave late into the twilight of his life, a slave who could not help but regret how his life had progressed. As he examined his reflection in the waters of the river which ran through Sunberth, Arnaud ran his hand along his receding hairline of silver-gray which spoke of all his hard years of hard labor. His body was well suited for a live of digging through earth, but the wrinkles forming crows feet at the edges of his eyes led him to sob softly to himself after entering into an immense depressive existential crisis.

His pitiful sadness went unnoticed by all save for two people. The first being lurking within the river which watched him the entire time. The second was a slave task master who struck old Arnaud from behind for his inactivity. The blow caused him to fall head first into the water where he never submerged. The miners on duty all reported Arnaud’s death to the mine operators, but Arnaud was actually still alive, whisked away by the a moldling monster in the river.

Arnaud awoke outside of the city bells later on the edge of the river. Arnaud thought he was hallucinating at the sight of a seemingly transparent feminine form looking at him from the water. After all, his mind was still half dazed from the wound on the back of his head where he was struck. As he removed his shirt to bandage the wound, he watched with focused interest as the creature repeatedly transitioned from a feminine to masculine visage.

He spent much of his time with the creature, leaning of the origin of the Maku and its devotion to Makutsi. Arnaud remained in awe of the creature, but wished to know two things. The first was why it seemed to look just as injured as himself. And the second was why did it save him. He was too old do much left with his life, but the Maku cryptically told Arnaud that his will would live on to do great things, and then it completely ignoring the man's first question.

To aid him in surviving his inevitable rise to greatness, the Maku held its arms open as it offered to grant Arnaud some of its power. It was a vague offer, but the former slave had nothing left to lose. The Maku embraced him in a hug, wrapping its arms around his neck where it caress its arm like tendrils along the his head. The Maku then began to exude its immense djed into res, then injected its will through the back of Arnaud's head wound to initiate the ex-slave into the arcane art of reimancy. The Maku waited in curious anticipation once the ritual was completed to see if the human would survive to enjoy its gift.

The initiation into reimancy was an incredibly brutal, yet personal thing. But, it was made all the more unbearable due to the Maku's secret. What it had not told Arnaud was that the Maku had waded through waters plagued with wild djed further up the river. Those impurities were also forced into Arnaud who began to mutate at the wild djed flooding through his body which caused his skin to turn as translucent as a jellyfish. His body took on the aspects of the Maku who had initiated him, which in its own strange way, also caused his body to lose its identity in the same manner as a Morpher.

The Maku was fickle in nature, but enjoyed watching its new plaything as Arnaud tried to understand his new form after having become a Maku-shifter. Within a year of his transformation, Arnaud had practically become a Maku himself; spending most days singing with others, protecting the river of Sunberth where he slowly began to lose track of his sanity from intense amount of daily overgiving. He mastered the transition, then returned to make a name for himself in Sunberth.

The city of Sunberth slowly began to fear ‘The Drowned Man’; a hooded man who would pull people he didn't like into the river. Many would watch as the Drowned Mans body would simply vanish; him becoming fluid as a Maku. And vanish, leaving only the victim struggling to resurface until they finally returned as a drowned corpse. Arnaud became a monster to the city, but became a defender of the river to terrorize those who saw fit to traverse the riverways without giving Makutsi her due praise. And even still, his grudge against the slave masters who ran the mines still lingered.

On multiple occasions, Arnaud led many of the mine Overseers to their death. This became such a persistent problem that the governing Wizard of Sunberth was forced to take a vested interest in the actions of this 'Drowned Man'.

Ivander Grain, known as the then ruling Wizard of Sunberth, was also one of the premiere arcane master crafters and lead animatior who aided, oversaw, and constructed many of the advanced golems which aided in the day-to-day operations and control of the mines.

He knew that all disruptions to the flow of treasures being shipped along the river from the mine shafts furthest from the city would mean a loss of treasure use to support Emperor Kovinus’s war efforts against the Suvan. While many of the Wizards who ran the city hated Kovinus for inciting false hope within the slave populous by removing many of the Wizards best privileges that came with their status, the Wizards responded by ruling rightfully over their slaves with a tighter iron fist.

Ivander's plan was simple, catch the Drowned man by being a harsh task master near the river. He studied The Drowned Man's method of operation, which ultimately led to his success. Arnaud tried to assault Ivander, but quickly found that the man was protected by arcane shielding from most of his attacks. In the end, the Drowned Man was slain by a vast multitude advanced humanoid golems designed specifically to protect the Wizard Ivander.

Ivander took Arnaud's remains to study them to understand how a man had become an Otani. As a result, Arnaud's death gave him insight into the ways of the sub-Otani known as the Maku. And in its own twisted way, the Maku who had empowered Arnaud was correct in saying "his will would live on". Ivander ordered that several shines to Makutsi be built along every bridge across the rivers of Sunberth to honor the goddess. It was an act which seemed to calm any Maku in the area, and even after Ivander used Malediction to craft Arnaud's skull into a ring a of morbid beauty.

The band of the ring was made up of a carved and hollowed out section of Arnaud’s femur, and the jewelry held in place by gold plated section of his skull, remains a shinned area of the front of his skull. Makutsi herself had been watching Arnaud with the unknowable curiosity of a god, she saw fit to bless appear before Ivander to bless the Ring of Rivers Guardian, which left the ring with a shimmering blue hue as if looking at the surface of a lake. When Ivander died he passed it onto the next ruling wizard of Sunberth who died during the Valterrian, which oddly enough, at the time they stood on the edge of the river of Sunberth to which the ring fell into when the successor's body was vaporized by the blast.

Second Owner :
Uhaga The Slitted Throat was a Myrian male, born in Taloba was one of the first to leave the city to explore far off land post-Valterrian. In the years of his youth, he was considered the most talented scout to many Dhani war efforts in the Taloban army and was often asked to stay out in the wilderness which gifted him the skill necessary to take on the harsh personal endeavor of exploration in his adult years. He was also a affluent dancer in is free time. When ever there was a celebration, he would be the first to start dancing around the fire.

When Makutsi heralded her arrived a day before he chose to set off on his adventure, he joined with the many raindancers to honor her name. Makutsi had long since rescued her blessed ring, and saw fit to gift it to one of the dancers that day. Uhaga was shocked to learn that the goddess enjoyed his dancing and decided to dance with him as he turned into a Maku during the Rain Festival. She touched him on the shoulder, and from then on his was marked by her as a Raindancer.

Uhaga had already served his mandatory years of service in the military, so was set to wander off on his own adventures to make way before returning home. However, was asked to rejoin the military by many who saw his gift as a tactical advantage over the Dhani and even those beings who invaded from the water known as Charoda. Uhaga was a free spirited person who's thoughts of adventure and exploration were far more progressive than any other Myrian at the time, but he was also a proud Myrian warrior. The call for battle dulled his thoughts of exploration, if only for a few years longer.

His greatest deed was one of an undaunted defender; with no expectation of survival, he along with a fang of three other myrians kept a foothold at the Kandukta Basin after being beset upon by thirty Dhani in a surprise ambush. He used his ability to shift into a Maku to defeat many of his opponents by using the lake to his advantage until reinforcements arrived.

It was an awesome sight to behold by his allies when Uhaga's watery form shifted in size, growing his upper body as large as that of a whale with his lower body under the surface of the lake. His lashed out wildly in all directions, reaching out like watery tendrils of a giant squid at his foes. The Dhani were instantly caught off guard by the Maku who suddenly decided to drown any snake it could capture in the lake, even worse, launching hash jet streams of water reimancy at them. The skirmish ended with Uhaga The Slitted Throat being hailed as one of the few male Myrian heroes of his age. While he never did live to ever explore beyond the borders of Falyndar, he joined Myri's Shadow guard in his afterlife once he died of old age. The Ring of Rivers Guardian was then returned to Makutsi by Myri herself.

Last Known User :
Kal Metrini, High Priest of Makutsi's Tower is an earnest man. He spent a vast majority of his life devoted to the river goddess, a peaceful man of the river. It was why he was marked as a Raindancer. Makutsi does not offer her boon to those who are undeserving or lack devotion. She takes pride in knowing that her worshipers would utilize her divine nature with care. That was why she gifted Kal her ring prior to him obtaining his third mark. He was a man who simply wished to dance as he worshiped, but she tasked him to a quest that would require him to enter combat.

She tasked him with destroying the seedheart of a Vinumia stifling the flow of water through the Bluevein as it crafted a multitude of dam like structures to protect its heart. He accepted the quest happily, but knew it was far beyond his skills to preform. That was why he called on the Akalak to aid him in his task. It hardly surprised him when several groups of warriors volunteered to join him.

The journey along the Bluevein went as fast as travel could be when traversing the Sea of Grass. Kal followed the low flowing river until he and his party came upon an unusual sight. The first damn they came across had of a multitude of dead bodies tightly sown together within the patchwork of vegetation. It took them several bells to remove the dam, but as they progressed onward, the kept running into similar blockages. After the fourth dam was destroyed, the river seemed to flow as normal, which Kal was happy to see but it was not his task. There was no sign of a Vinumia. They pressed on for a day before camping for the night.

The night was going as normal when the Akalak on watch let out a deep scream in agony. Kal woke up in a start, hurrying out of his tent to find the camp being attacked by a group of strangely monstrous creatures. Each of them were different in some way. One had horns where another had insect-like antenna, others had elongated noses like beaks where others had snouts of a pig. Kal glanced around as an Akalak yelled out "Wretched Ones". Kal quickly wondered why those who served Uldr would try to halt the river, but then quickly found the answer from his own question. Those who serve the god of undead simply want everything to die, even rivers.

The Akalak were proving to be an equal match for the invaders, but they had a titan on there side. From behind them, attacking any one it could with wild abandon, came the raging Vinumia from river.

Kal knew what he needed to do from that moment. He ran his thumb along the ring as he focused on his transformation into a Maku which shifted his body seamlessly into its humanoid state as he went to confront it at the shore of the river where he quickly ran into the water. The monster lashed out with a vine, aiming to stab him through the gut, but it simply pieced his liquid body, causing him to revert into a fluid back into the river.

The landspawn believed it had destroyed its prey, causing it to turn its attention onto the ensuing battle at the campsite. Kal reformed as he resurfaced from the water, and lashed out in a similar way the Vinumia did but with a long blast of water that cut through some of the creatures vines from the pressure the water exerted. The beast lashed out with another vine of its own, but found the vine quickly decapitated from the uses of water reimancy.

A creature that was hard pressed to be beaten in water, had met a like minded foe in Kal so long as he had the ring gifted to him by his goddess. Several Akalak had joined him once they had slain their foes, failing to keep one as a prisoner as the last foe committed Suicide rather than be captured. Many of the others had also perished, but Kal was glad his party were the victors. They stood at range, primed to fire at the creatures seedheart as Kal shredded away its protective shell of vegetation.

It came down to a battle of inches as Kal traded blows that would have felled a normal man. He used his arms to reach out and pull its body closer to the water, but the beast proved smart enough to know that it would fair better on land against the Maku if it wanted to survive. Kal threatened it repeatedly with the danger of being in water when he felt it was far to focused on trying to strike at him.

He let go of whatever group of vines his watery arms could grab, then fired a blast of water at it gut which managed expose the seed heart in its belly. “Fire” Kal yelled, signaling for the Akalak to fire a volleys of crossbows bolts at it gut. Most of the bolts managed to hit their mark which only proved to stun the monster for just the fraction of a tick. It was in that moment when Kal musted up all the power the ring granted him, then launched a water bolt with immense concussive force at the exposed seedheart, yelling in excitement as the water bolt shattered it like a sledgehammer bashing into a glass trinket, and exploding out the backside of the Vinumia’s torso.

Kal had finished his task and understood how strong the ring of power was that the goddess of the River had bestowed to him. He returned to Makutsi's Tower, contemplating the ring the entier way back to Riverfall. He was a humble man, one that did not wish to use the Goddess power for selfish or petty reasons such as violence. He transformed into the Maku form one last time, just to know how it felt before reverting to his his human form again, then removed it to holding it out towards empty air. He prayed in silence. “I can not keep this.” He said, but before as he opened his eyes from praying, Makutsi stood across from him with her hands clapped around his where he held it. She then blessed him with his third mark, telling her new priest to guard it and use it wisely.

The ring is now guarded by Kal Metrini in the city of Riverfall at Makutsi's Tower. Although a rare site to behold, he often uses the Maku form the ring grants him when preforming his version a rain dance.

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Last edited by Quzon on March 12th, 2019, 10:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Kelski on July 9th, 2018, 2:53 am

Akvin's Ring Of Power: 3257 words


The Ring Of Creation

Secret :
In approximately 250 A.V. Tylin Dyres lead his entire people including every man woman and child to the surface after their ancestors took shelter in the bowls of the earth to escape the wicked and fatal Djed Storms that resulted from The Valterrian. That migration included several Gods, Goddesses and Godlings that had been passing time with The Dyres family, assisting them in their subterranean survival.

Having been born beneath the surface and finding life above a challenge, these people were at a distinct disadvantage in relocating from the dark confines of the earth to the surface. The Dyres and their people made the move, however, because it was quite clear to them that in order to thrive and expand, they would have to have more space and more opportunities than life within the earth afforded them.

However, born below they were lacking in almost all the major skills and information needed to survive above.

Because of this huge gap in knowledge, Gods, Goddesses and Godlings crafted items of wonderous power to assist their pet humans with survival in the open air and to give them a fighting chance in the first few years of what then was called The Surfacing. Akvin and his contribution was just one of many gifts offered humanity as the elder race.

Akvin’s gift to the world was The Ring of Creation. This beautifully crafted ring allowed the wearer, when faced with a problem that cannot be solved (because no knowledge existed on how to solve it), to instantaneously craft a simple mundane item or part to help solve the problem. A great deal of the population of the world had perished in Ivak’s wrath, and almost all of the known and written knowledge of surface living perished with these dead. They truthfully had no way to rediscover it without a great deal of trial and error, experimentation, and life-threatening delays.

The Dyres had to feed themselves. They had to clothe themselves. And the methods below ground simply would not translate to the surface where the air was fresh, there was room to breathe, and there was hope that the bloodlines of multiple pockets of survivors could be mingled for increased health.

The number one problem of the people surfacing was that they didn’t know WHAT they needed to accomplish important tasks (such as growing food) out in the open air that they had done beneath the surface. Whole generations were born in the dark. This lack of light resulted in knowledge sets and toolkits in mental and physical inventory of these people that were rarely cross compatible with surface living.

Farming, for example, was far different than the aquaponics that they had utilized beneath the surface to keep themselves fed. The laboring and failing machinations of the Pre-Valterrian world simply had to be replaced by modernization or the other sources of food, water, and shelter. People had grown crowded, interbred, and less physically suited to being able to climb out of their holes and live as the Gods meant people to live… under Syna’s light.

Akvin couldn’t be everywhere at once even though he had a true investment in wanting to see Dyres and his family succeed. This investment was simple friendship. Treated as a member of their family, Akvin had long been welcomed among The Dyres and had found common ground with the family and their dependents.

That being the case, he offered Tylin Dyres an incredible life-altering gift. The Ring of Creation replaced a great deal of knowledge the Dyres family and their people lacked. When Akvin and his immortal cohort weren’t around, then ring was able to fill in gaps in the knowledge people had. Tools materialized at the wearer’s need to assist their day to day lives that none of the below ground dwellers had ever seen before. Clever blacksmiths and other sorts of craftsmen were able to duplicate these briefly manifesting items and thus things like the first plows were created.

These creations lasted a single day before turning to dust. Nothing huge or complicated ever manifested. Life on the surface was reduced to simple day to day survival so the items that indeed appeared were often the simplest of things. They were limited in scope and size to the mass of the wearer or somewhat smaller. The concept was such a simple thing, but these quickly manifested items were often enough to pass along the knowledge Akvin retained from the Pre-Valterrian world onto the newly born world of The Post Valterrian era.

And because of the Ring of Creation, Dyres and his family and all their people survived long enough to lay the first stones to the fortress of Syliras. It was a very close thing that the entire region became Sylira rather than Kultra, for both Gods had an equal and important part in humanities survive in that region. It just so happened Sylir died and thus the region was honored with his name rather than Kultra’s.

The Story:
How The Ring Of Creation Came To Be

Secret :
Gods are fickle creatures. Their attentions can be all over the place ranging from fleeting to obsessive and anywhere in between. And because their lives have no set course as mortals do, they do not acutely feel the movement of time like a human might sense his or her encroaching death with the passing of years. Instead, those that rule Mizahar go out into the world, masquerading as all sorts of things, in order to fill their days with more than just endless sunrises and sunsets.

Akvin Kultra was one such creature. The creative, innovative master inventor was passing time hanging with the riff raff off the coast of the new sea far beneath the surface. Ivak destroyed the world five centuries before and humanity was just now on the cusp of emerging like a grub from the soil they’d taken shelter in.

They had started small, sending adventurous types up and out onto the surface to explore and report. Later, hunting parties had gone forth and while some never returned, enough did with fresh meat and wild edibles that people started growing restless. The signs of Djed Storms had long been gone, though their memory still terrified the huddled masses. And so it was the leadership of the humans of the Dyres family gathered, made plans, and came to agree that it was time to at least partially surface.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Tylin Dyres asked again, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Glav. The three of them were yet again having a meeting. Akvin was growing weary of meetings. He required action rather than the talk of action, so his leather clad knee was bouncing restlessly much like a deviant child. Glav gave him a look that included a raised eyebrow and the miscreant God shrugged. Unlike Glav, Akvin had his doubts these humans could survive the surface.

He wanted them too.

However, they simply had forgotten so much in their day to day living. His doubt was the reason Tylin was asking Glav and not Akvin. Akvin would have told him straight that he felt humanity to newly stupid to survive the surface since Ivak had robbed them of all their culture and hard-won advances in technology. Had more written work survived, then Humans would have had a fighting chance to make it on the surface. However, as things were saying Humans could survive was like trying to tell a person they could learn to cook without pots, pans, ingredients, recipes or even a fire.

Akvin knew it. Glav knew it. By Sylir’s pristine yet very dead balls, even The Goddess of Memory and Writing knew it. Akvin grumbled. He gave Glav a seething look. The son of Sylir hadn’t yet rose to replace Peace and probably couldn’t for some time to come. Certain things would have to happen first, namely Xhyvas making an appearance back to the land of living in order for them to pinpoint where they could rob enough divine to raise Glav’s power to that of Sylir’s former glory.

Until then, they would have to bide their time. Glav just chuckled at Akvin’s seething glance. He knew Akvin was restless and wanted to get the migration upwards underway, but he also knew that he didn’t want it to be an outright slaughter when the humans beneath faced the wildlife above.

“Its not going to be safe for a long long time. But if you are asking have the Djed Storms passed, yes… unless something else significant changes above, the abnormal weather has settled and you shouldn’t be facing those issues when you surface.” Glav assured him, knowing it to be true. He himself had consulted with Zulrav and the God of the Winds had indeed assured him that the wild djed had spent itself enough to stop effecting the weather and creating abnormal storms.

Tylin Dyres nodded, looked thoughtful, and sighed. “We’ll plan the ascent for the first of Spring. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate one more year of survival than to do it on the anniversary of The Valterrian.” He said thoughtfully. “Then we can see if we can get fields going, crops planted, and perhaps break ground on some sort of stronghold.” He said, tapping his chin and glancing around at his advisors.

Glav and Akvin nodded, though Glav was the only one truly focused on Tylin’s words. Akvin’s head was already miles away. He’d had an idea, and one that would require him to look up Qalaya’s location and ask a boon of Her. Akvin was a player who knew how to stack the decks. He was going to see if he couldn’t indeed ‘stack the deck’ for Tylin and his people before the deadline the human leader had just set for himself.

That meant finding Qalaya. Akvin glanced at Glav. When the others at the meeting were distracted with the business at hand and discussing things loudly, the Magecrafter leaned over and asked Glav a question. “Do you have any idea where Qalaya is? I just had an idea for something that might help Tylin and I need something from Her to do it.” He said, looking thoughtful. Glav shrugged. “She could be anywhere. Last I heard She was …. “ He seemed to reach inside himself, as if struggling for the memory. “Lormar Tower.” He said abruptly. “There were already surfaced mages there with a remnant library she was collecting.” Glav elaborated.

Akvin nodded. Glav had an excellent memory and an ear on the chatter the Gods carried out among themselves. If anyone knew where she was last seen, it would have been him. “Think shes still there?” He asked casually, already planning a trip.

Glav nodded. “I don’t see why not. She’s probably hand copying the texts to add to her own library herself.” He said, knowing it would be a big job if the mages had an extensive library.

Akvin nodded, excused himself politely from the meeting, and strode out. He packed a light bag, dressed in his best black leather, and set off to seduce the Goddess of Memory and Writing to get what he wanted for his newest project. Lormar Tower was decidedly a pre-valterrian Alahea tower that used to reside on the boarder between the Suvan Empire and the Alahean Empire. Now, however, it had a nice coastal location overlooking the now inundated Suvan Sea. Akvin materialized outside of the tower’s entrance and strode up to it, knocking politely.

A stranger answered the door in the form of a lovely dark-haired woman with soft eyes. There were no guards and the tower itself didn’t seem to be teaming with people. It was, however, surrounded with gardens and livestock, with a expansive cattle yard and shelter that housed a milk cow and several precocial pigs. Chickens and geese expertly tended the garden, nibbling away at the pests that plagued such places even after The Valterrian. Akvin marveled at the thriving situation here, wondering if there was indeed hope for bigger populations like the Dyres and their kin.

“Can I help you?” The woman asked, curious but wary. Akvin put on his most charming smile, bowed low, and quietly asked. “I’m looking for a scholarly woman who might perhaps be here copying texts. I have no idea if she still is, but this was her last known location. She often goes by Laya. I’m Kultra, a friend of hers.” He said carefully, not sure if the residents in question would know of Qalaya’s true visage. The woman smiled, nodded, and was very helpful.

“Yes, Laya is here. It’s nice to meet you Kultra. I’m Nora Winters. Laya is upstairs in the library. Won’t you come in? I’ll show you to her.” The woman said politely, but with an edge to her gaze that told Akvin she knew exactly what she was dealing with. Akvin politely followed the woman inside the massive tower and immediately up the stairs that circled its inner walls to the third level where the library was. Nora left him at the doorway to the library after quietly knocking, swinging it open, and gesturing him inside.

Akvin made short work of the walk, quietly joining Qalaya where she was bent over a text. She glanced up, almost absent mindedly, and then did a double take and frowned. “What do you want?” She asked in a carefully neutral voice as Akvin sank down in a chair opposite of her and rested his hands on the table.

“This family… The Winters…. they are thriving. How did they do it?” He asked, glancing around, looking impressed at the condition of the tower, its library, and of its occupants. If all was as it appeared at face value, the humans were doing well for themselves. Qalaya smiled. She was truly a beautiful Goddess though her demeanor was that of a typical librarian, often stoic and expressionless.

“They are my followers. Gatherers of knowledge, they saved more books single handedly than most of the family groups combined. Their library helps them tremendously and that is why they are thriving. They even retain some of the pre-valterrian skills mortals had.” She said proudly, her smile dying on her lips as she looked him over. “Why are you here, Akvin?” She asked cautiously, eyeing his attire. Qalaya and Akvin Kultra didn’t know each other well. They didn’t roam in the same circles and rarely did their domains cross, though Qalaya kept track of Akvin’s inventions and creations.

“I need something from you.” He said, getting right to the point. “The Dyres are going to Surface and they are so woefully unprepared. Though their group is more than three hundred strong and overcrowding is an issue where they live beneath, they haven’t retained much skill and saved almost no books or writings from before. What they build, they will have to build with little or no knowledge. I doubt they’d even recognize a plow of they saw one, let alone a hoe or a rake for farming. I wish to help them. I’ve of a mind to craft something, a ring of power for them, but in order for it to work I need a drop of your blood.” He said frankly, knowing it was a lot to ask a fellow Deity. Their blood contained their power and even a mere drop of it could be a potent thing.

“Tell me of this ring and what it will do. And for that matter, why it will require my blood.” She said thoughtfully. Akvin felt it was a promising response. She hadn’t said no, and further questions were no issue.

“I wish to craft them a ring of creation, one that will manifest anything I know of from my memory that will help them solve a problem or do a task. I have enough power that I can sacrifice to its crafting to make sure the items can come unlimited for a time, but last only a single day… long enough for them to copy the items and make their own. Should they need to turn soil to plant, a plow would manifest, and their blacksmiths could reproduce it. I need your blood to translate my memories into the ring so it can produce the items. It will be almost sentient, a signet for the new leadership of what will grow from the Dyres family group. I foresee them going a long way and being a lasting force in the future, but only with a bit of help. It is a great favor you do for me and I will owe you one in exchange.” He said sincerely.

Qalaya nodded.

She extended her hand and offered the tip of her finger. “Just a drop. That should be enough of my power to do what you need.” She said and then added… “And a favor owed, naturally, and perhaps one I will collect soon.” She added, smiling at Him, knowing Akvin a grand crafter, probably one of the World’s greatest. A favored owed to Her by Him would not be a burden she’d carry long before she collected it.

He pulled a vial from his leather pants pocket, extracted a glittering dagger from his belt, and with the gentlest of touches nicked the end of her finger and collected her blood. After that, rather than departing rapidly to hurry back to craft his ring, he sat well into the night, visiting with Qalaya and getting to know her. In fact, on the whole, he stayed three days before he took his leave of Lormar Tower and returned to the caves The Dyres people inhabited.

Taking to his laboratory, he spent ten complete days crafting the ring. He turned it into a Signet for Tylin to wear, one Akvin hoped he’d pass down through the generations to the leaders of what would in later years become Sylira. And as for Qalaya. She called in her favor almost immediately. Shortly thereafter, Akvin vanished from the newly Surfaced colony of Sylira and wasn’t seen for ten years. When he returned, Lawrence was in power and the first stones of the Fortress of Sylira had been laid. Upon his hand, the signet ring of the Dyres family – The Ring of Creation – was still being worn.

The Current Location & Ringbearer

Secret :
Unlike other Rings of Power, Akvin’s Ring of Creation has never been lost. Cleverly fashioned into a signet ring for the House of Dyres, The Ring of Creation has always graced the hand of The Lord of Syliras. Passed from Tylin to Lawrence, his adult son, the ring was then passed to each eldest son as they reached their prime and assumed the role of Grandmaster of the Syliran Knights and Leader of Syliras.

To this day, this lovely signet still graces Loren Dyres’ firm hand. Some say it is the reason for the Dyres family’s success and the fact that when so many others perished during The Surfacing, the Dyres family succeeded beautifully and went on to found the lovely city of Syliras and the noble order of Syliran Knights.

Akvin Kultra has been forever welcomed through the gates of Syliras and has always held a suite of rooms – always encompassing a magecrafting workshop – within the fortress of the city somewhere. Though he rarely stayed more than fifty years or so at a time, he was a frequent visitor and companion of both Glav Navik and assorted other Dieties that often call Syliras home.
They laugh at me because I am different.
I laugh at them because they are all the same.

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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Okara on July 9th, 2018, 3:28 am

Ring of a Hundred Crows

The Ring of a Hundred Crows is a silver ring shaped like a feather. It allows the wearer to explode into a murder of crows; granting flight and sight through the eyes of the crows. As long as one crow remains alive, the wearer can return to their normal form.
Creation Story and First Holder :
Khalissa Barnum walked slowly up the stairs to her room, exhaustion written in every line of her body. Long days helping her father and brothers work the forge left her with little energy for the scant time she could call her own each day. Finally reaching her small room of sanctuary she closed the door and softly locked it. She had no fear of violence or intrusion from her family but the lock gave her a sense of security that this space was a haven away from the world.

Approaching her desk Khalissa opened a drawer bursting with papers, she drew out the top paper and settled into a chair to examine it. On the paper was an incomplete diagram for a beautiful necklace of rubies and hundreds of twisting gold wires. She studied the diagram carefully and slowly worked on it, considering the placement of each wire and loop with loving care.

Khalissa worked her hands raw each day in her father’s forge without complaint, knowing that every extra hand was needed. Horses needed shoes, buildings needed nails, and soldiers always needed weapons. Productiveness was encouraged in the name of patriotism and independence, feelings that pervaded every Klipzian city including Khalissa’s humble hometown. It was not easy to maintain independence sandwiched between the behemoth Suvan and Alahean empires but the proud people that lived free in their small pocket of Southern Taldera were determined to not be swallowed as easily as the rest of Mizahar had been. Tension seemed to tighten each day as gossip floated around about the Alahean courtiers whispering in the ears of Klipzian politicians and the endless drills of the Suvan armies throughout their empire.

Evening was Khalissa’s only free time to pursue her passion, the creation of beautiful jewelry of devilishly intricate making. Each night she sat at her desk and lost herself in dreams of art and beauty so distant from the practical reality that she lived in. Her father would never sanction her to leave to pursue her talent nor allow her to use his forge to create what he saw as completely frivolous waste. Jewels were for the brainless upperclass, his daughter had a future truly helping her people by creating practical works of metal. Khalissa loved her father deeply and could not imagine defying him by leaving without his blessing so she passed the days like a zombie and lived in her dreams.

A shrill caw startled the young woman and she looked up to see a glossy, black crow standing on her windowsill. The crow cocked and turn his head to inspect her with beady eyes before cawing again. Khalissa looked around and grabbed a stale heel of bread leftover from her breakfast resting on the corner of her desk.

”Is this it? Did you see my bread and get hungry crow?” Khalissa asked softly as she ripped off a chunk of the stale bread and placed it on the windowsill a foot away from the crow, nervous of his long, shiny beak. The crow cawed once more then quickly gobbled up the bread and took flight. Khalissa smiled to herself and shook her head before turning back to her design. The crow had been a surprising interruption but it was soon forgotten as she lost herself in a particularly intricate wire knot she was designing.

The following evening Khalissa had started on a new design, this time for a marvelously decadent crown of coral dipped in silver and dripping in pearls, when a caw at her windowsill drew her attention. The crow had returned, cawing at her so loudly that she could see his small pink tongue in his beak. Khalissa frowned at the noisy bird. She didn’t mind his begging the day before but now she felt a hint of irritation at his interruption. She quickly tossed the crow some ham from her dinner and turned back to her papers. A glint in the dying light caught her eye and she noticed a length of copper wire sitting on the window sill where the crow had been. Curious, she stood and picked up the wire. Perhaps the crow had left her a gift in exchange for her food.

Khalissa sat at her desk and played with the wire. She twisted it up and around and through itself several times until she held a small wire bee in her hand. It was simple, an oblong body with looping wings, but it brought a small smile of joy to her face. She rarely had materials to create with and the tiny outlet was exhilarating. Khalissa walked to her bed and lay down, staring at the bee and turning it over in her hands. She fell asleep with the wire bee cradled in her hand.


Every day for months the crow appeared on her windowsill and begged for scraps. Every time she fed it, she found wires waiting for her after it left. Sometimes copper, sometimes iron wire, sometimes one, sometimes several wires. Where a crow continued to find so many bits of wire she could not begin to guess, she never noticed any missing from her father’s forge, but she did not care much. The wires became her new projects and she used them to make small animal figures of varying intricacy. They weren’t as elegant and decadent as the jewelry she designed in her dreams but these were real and her hands worked them with love and attentiveness.

Two months into her visits by the crow, Khalissa got an idea for a project for the wires. She turned once again to her papers and planned out the project. She figured the amount of wire she would need to complete it and how she would achieve the complicated design. She was so excited at the prospect of the project that she made a special small meal to save for her crow friend each day, earning her strange looks from her family as she carried it up to her room every night after dinner.

Day by day she collected the wires the crow left behind and slowly the project came together. The night it was completed, she could hardly sleep in excitement. The whole next day seemed to crawl by as she waited for night to come so she could show her project to her crow friend. Winter had come and demand had slowed so she didn’t even have much work to keep her mind and hands busy. The bells slowly passed but finally she was helping her brothers clean up the forge. She swept the floor with ferocity and organized the tools more quickly than even her father could. Her father hugged her around the shoulders as they walked back to the house, glad to see his daughter finally showing some enthusiasm around the forge.

Khalissa could hardly eat at dinner but forced forkfuls down into her mouth and mechanically chewed. Once her plate was empty and cleaned in the kitchen she raced upstairs to her room and waited impatiently for the crow to arrive. She had noticed he never seemed to arrive when she was looking, so she tidied her bedroom and inspected the walls for chipped paint until she finally heard him caw at the window.

”Wait until you see what I made. You were the inspiration so I wanted to show you first.” she said, speaking to the crow like an old friend. From under her bed she drew her project forth and set it on the desk so the crow could see. The crow was quiet and seemed to be inspecting what she had set before him. A life-size copper crow looked back at him. The copper crow was beautiful and lively, one wire leg lifted and wire beak open in a caw with wings spread wide. The crow stared at it’s copper counterpart for a chime and then flew away in silence.

Khalissa walked to the window and stared out. The crow was gone. She turned back to her copper creation with disappointment. Confusion clouded her heart, unsure of what she had expected. It was a crow after all, and it was only trading her wires for food. Tears of anger and frustration began to stream down her face and she knocked the wire crow off her desk and onto her floor. She had spent hours and hours of her time building a wire statue for a bird. She turned out the lights and lay down in her bed, quietly sobbing. Sadness welling up that her only creative outlet was a bunch of wires and her only audience a crow. So long she had forced herself to be content with her lot in life but now she realized how truly miserable and dissatisfied she was.

The next day, Khalissa pretended she was sick and stayed in her bed staring at the ceiling. She watched the shadows slowly pass across the walls with hardly any thoughts crossing her mind. She hardly noticed when evening fell until she heard a familiar muffled caw from outside the window. Snow was falling thickly in the Talderian winter and she had left it closed from the cold. She ignored it. The cawing stopped and she figured the crow had left to find a new sucker to beg food from until she felt a light pressure on her legs. She propped herself up on her elbows and saw with shock that the crow was standing on her legs. Beyond she could see the window was open though she was positive that it had been closed. He awkwardly hopped up her leg until he stood on her thigh, staring right at her. He seemed to be holding something in his beak which he dropped on her chest. Khalissa picked it up and examined it, her eyes going wide as she realized it was a chunk of pure silver. The crow cawed right in her face before turning and flying out of her window.

Khalissa sat up, still staring at the chunk of silver. A draft of cold air from the open window hit and her teeth chattered until she stood up to close the window again. The skin prickled on the back of her neck, something very strange was happening. She gripped the silver tightly in her palm and turned back to her bed. A single feather sat on top of the quilt. She picked it up and examined the black, glossy feather. She stood there in the fading light, staring at the feather as she let thoughts wash over her.

Feeling impulsive, Khalissa pulled on a thick robe over her sleeping clothes. She opened the door silently and quietly carried the feather and hunk of silver to the outside door and then across the yard to her father’s forge. She opened the door slowly and shut it softly behind her, still nervous of waking her family.

Skillfully, she started a fire in the forge and quickly brought it to life. It took some time to reach the right heat but eventually she put the chunk of silver into a crucible and set it in the furnace. She waited patiently until the metal became a bright yellow liquid in the crucible. Khalissa worked slowly but with sure fingers, for once pleased to be in her father’s forge and using the tools. The metal was poured into a mold and then as it cooled pounded into a smooth ring. She used fine tools to quickly shape the ring as it cooled, allowing the idea in her mind to become reality. Finished, she plunged the ring into water to finish cooling it and tucked it into her robe pocket. She quickly cleaned up the forge then snuck back to the house and up to her room.

Khalissa slept fitfully and the next day she was back at work with her family, quiet and introspective. The day passed quickly and as night fell she waited quietly in her room. She left the window open, not caring that the room was quickly becoming freezing and snow blew in on the floor. The crow landed softly in her windowsill, not bothering to caw or announce his presence any further. Khalissa set the ring on the windowsill and the crow inspected it with a beady eye. She was proud of the ring, a delicate silver feather bent in a circle, just waiting to wrap around someone’s finger. The crow picked up the ring in its beak and flew off. Khalissa stood and shut the window, wondering if this would be the end of the crow’s patronage. He had brought her shinies and she had given him one in return.


A few days passed and Khalissa worked in the forge dutifully beside her brothers each day. At night she did not draw or work with the wires. She simply lay down and mulled her thoughts, occasionally looking at the wire crow in the corner, still where it had landed after she had hit it in frustration.

A week after she had made the ring for the crow, Khalissa walked upstairs in the evening and shut the door of her room behind her. She turned and gaped in shock as she saw a man sitting on her open windowsill. She slowly closed her mouth and continued to stare silently as the man watched her with hazel eyes and a big smile.

”I appreciate this ring you made for me.” he said quietly, still smiling and drew the feather ring from his pocket. Khalissa didn’t move so the man placed it on the desk nearby.

”Are you…. The crow?” Khalissa asked hesitantly.

”Yes. Well, I’m many things, I suppose. But I always enjoy crows. I appreciated your ring so much I wanted to bring it back to you. I think you should keep it, for now anyways. The ring is a little more special now, however.” The man said as he nodded. Khalissa hesitantly took two steps forward. The sudden appearance of the man was startling but she felt a warmth and a sense of acceptance emanating from him.

”Special in what way?” Khalissa asked, curious. The man smiled more widely, pleased that she had asked.

”I’ve watched you for a long time, Khalissa. You seem like you are trapped. Maybe not physically, like a cage, but you are trapped in your mind. I’ve seen your designs. You have a very natural talent, a talent I think goes beyond just jewelry. You can design amazing things and you are being stifled here. This ring will help you be free when you really need to be. Wear it and when you need to escape just think of flying like the crows. You can keep the ring as long as you need it, but eventually I may come back to collect. There are others who are trapped and need help freeing their talent as well.” the man explained. He waited for the information to sink in as Khalissa slowly nodded.

”What…. What do I call you?” Khalissa asked as the man flung one leg out of the window.

”Eywaat.” The man said with a laugh. Suddenly where a man had been there was a crow who cawed once before taking flight. Khalissa rushed to the window and watched the crow fly away until he disappeared. Eywaat had been so casual but she knew now that her feathered benefactor had in fact been a god. Awed by the knowledge, she slipped the ring on her finger and sat at her desk all night in thought.

Morning came and Khalissa joined her family in the forge. The day progressed as it normally did until her eldest brother came back early from a delivery, yelling for their father. Khalissa heard a wet, gurgling noise and walked outside to see her brother laying on the ground, blood soaking the snow around him. She looked up in shock to see chaos making its way down the city street. Chaos in the form of soldiers wearing Suvan colors and emblems.

The soldiers were killing citizens indiscriminately, the baker’s wife from next door went down with a knife through her neck. The smoke and haze of burning buildings began to descend around her as violence erupted in every direction. Time seemed to move slowly as she realized it had finally happened. The Suvan Empire had made its move, the cities of the Klipzian Pact were being claimed deep in the heart of the Talderian winter. Khalissa’s hometown had been taken by such surprise that the city soldiers hadn’t even been able to mobilize to form a defense.

She turned to watch her father grabble with a soldier but soon he too went down beneath the Suvan might. Seeing his lifeless eyes and the soldier turn towards her snapped Khalissa out of her shock. She looked down at the silver feather on her finger, and thought desperately of crows in flight. She felt her body dissolve into a hundred beings and cloud of crows rose into the air from where she had been. The soldier shouted in surprise as the cloud of crows drew higher above the city, now burning in ruin.

The crows flew around the city and then headed east as one mind. East, towards Alahea and those who would share their hatred of the Suvan Empire.

Eywaat’s Ring of a Hundred Crows has changed hands countless times over the thousands of years of it’s existence. From it’s creation in 5850 BV to present, it has always been given to an artisan or inventor whose talent is stifled by circumstances. Whether those circumstances are war, enslavement, abusive relationships, or family dynamics it does not matter. Eywaat ensures that his Ring is given to those whose talents are being wasted so he can unleash their passion on the world. Once the ring has been given, the person who wears it can use it as they like. But if Eywaat feels the holder is wasting their talents or there is a worthier individual, he will remove it from their possession and see that it helps another creative soul be uncaged. It is always Eywaat himself in some form or another who bestows the ring upon the bearer as he always wants the artisan to know they have his support and he wants them to pursue their talents.

Word Count: 3112
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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Tarn Alrenson on July 9th, 2018, 3:45 am

Caiyha – Ring of the Wild Collective

Listen here and listen well! Let an old man spin you a tale from years long past in time before, when empires raged and thousands died for tracts of land now left unclaimed! Unclaimed by all, ‘cept it be by the mighty wilderness, Caiyha’s sphere, the one empire that wasn’t crushed to dust when the gods warred and the world was broken.

But before all that, while humans strutted the length and width of Mizahar in all their hubris, the Mistress of the wilds herself saw in her great wisdom the need to create an item, a sliver of herself, a morsel of her power. This fruit she sought to bear would take the form of a ring, a never-ending round like the cycles that governed the creatures of her domain, a circlet made for human fingers to help them understand the vast ocean upon whose surface they skimmed.

Caiyha’s decision to create the ring--a holy treasure of par with nobles’ hoards--came long before the first steps toward its forging were taken. The fast-growing tree will break and fall when winds of hardship blow, but the patient tree sustains. So Caiyha was patient. With life eternal, time is cheap, and the goddess chose the time and place of her divine object’s birth with care. She wanted her creation to be hardy and strong. The lichen on the mountain’s stones was certainly tough enough for her desire, but Caiyha was not satisfied. Tough was good, but it was not all. The goddess wanted her ring to be beautiful, not in the way of the machinations of mankind, but possessive of nature’s charm. The summer daisies and the other flowers their fellows were beautiful, true enough, but their time in that form was short-lived. Caiyha understood brevity and loved the flowers all the same but influencing the hearts of humans as she intended to took time. The ancient corals of the ocean’s depths knew the test of time, and possessed an exotic beauty rarely seen. These aquatic growths were tough as stones as well, yet… Caiyha did not forge her ring from these underwater forests. When gazing upon a coral’s colors, humans saw the wealth of far off places, ground yet unbroken and trails not trod. The worth of these were true, but the goddess wished to draw the eyes of mankind to the life around them, to explore the complex beauty of the things they called mundane.

After contemplation spanning centuries, Caiyha chose the material for her ring. Humble, strong, and beautiful in its simplicity, Caiyha chose the oak tree to be the canvas from which she would create her masterpiece.

She picked the specific tree from which the ring would grow with as much care as she did the species. Days spent wandering turned to weeks, which turned to months, to years, to decades. Finally, when nigh unto a century had passed since the queen of the wilderness decided upon the oak, she found an individual that rang true. Standing tall and strong, its roots spread wide, weaving with its neighbors and letting its brothers alongside lean upon its strength.

Caiyha did not fashion her creation after the human manner. The things of nature were not hammered out or carved from a larger piece, they were grown. Caiyha placed her hand upon the tree, gracing that mighty oak with her blessed touch, and she gave it direction, a purpose greater than its own. Caiyha tended to the oak and gave it guidance in its hidden grove far from the wandering footsteps of mankind. The goddess did not take the yolk of the ring’s creation upon herself however, though the effort would not burden her much. She gave the tree instruction, and let the oak work, forging the ring from the earth it pulled through its roots and the sunlight gathered by its leaves. If the ring was to be a thing of the wilderness, it would have to be one through and through, the effort of its birth borne by its parent, the mighty oak. Through nine seasons, the ring did grow, set deep within the trunk of the chosen oak. While the body of the ring was forged, it learned the things of the forest and nature, pulling from the vast network the mighty oak tapped into with its far-flung roots, now stretching farther than they had before from gathering material for Caiyha’s ring.

On the ninth day of the ninth season of its creation, the oak split along the length of its trunk, giving up the last of its spirit, imparting its final gift into the ring. With delicate hands, Caiyha took the ring from the body of the oak, filled with love for all her domain upon touching it, and hoping it would do the same for the human onto who’s hands it would fall.

Now this is how the ring was born! Holy creation, friend of the wilds whomever holds that mighty object! But that is not how our story ends my fellows! No no no! Our tale continues with the first man to wield that fearsome power, a cunning foe, a sly fox. Or rather should I say, a hound…

This was not a good day for Field Marshall Tam Araxon. He gritted his teeth, squinting down the mountainside at the army he could see at its foot. Beside him on his rocky vantage perch stood his aide and close friend, Maccol. Maccol raised his hands to his face, warming them with his breath. The hike to their position had been a long one, and up here the air was colder, biting through Tam’s thick uniform coat. On Tam’s other hand stood a soldier, Dak, the head of his scouts. The grizzled man had been a competent woodsman before his enlistment, which was why he had been given the assignment.

Dak spat a glob of saliva onto the stones at their feet.
“Damn Alaheans…” he muttered under his breath. Maccol continued to stare worriedly down at the ranks of soldiers. He too seemed to mutter a few choice words about their enemies every now and again. Tam simply studied, fingering his mustache as he watched the motions in the enemy camp.

They weren’t actively marching in the direction of his own army for the moment, which was good, though with any luck they would have no idea where it was. Honestly, the Field Marshall would almost rather the Alaheans be searching for his soldiers’ hiding place than doing what they were doing now.

“Dak,” Tam called, “run back to camp, tell everybody to pack up and be ready to march. I expect them to be done by the time I get back.”

“Right away sir!” the man responded, quickly throwing up a salute before running back down the trail they had come by. Tam saw Maccol’s eyes shift nervously between him and the army before them. Tam couldn’t blame him; their position was cause enough for worry.

The empire was at war—as it often was—and there was nobody better at that time honored and distinguished art than Tam Araxon. He had distinguished himself as an infantryman in his youth before moving on to gain fame as a cavalry captain in his early adulthood. By the time he reached his middle ages, Tam was commanding armies, and making a name for himself doing it too. The men under his banner began to call Tam Araxon “The Wolfhound,” after the gritty tenacity that had won him more than a few battles. Nowadays, the soldiers liked to refer to him as the “Old Wolfhound,” though the smarter ones dropped the identifier before the title.

Tam had gained his glory in an earlier war, one that had been far longer and bloodier than this one promised to be. Unfortunately, the Suvan Emperor himself had decided to lead the main campaign this time, hungry for the glory of bloodshed. The man could not have the Field Marshall around for this, as while the Emperor commanded much respect among his soldiers, Tam had led them to many victories in the past and was near legendary among them. Rather than let himself be overshadowed, the Emperor had put Tam in charge of holding the border to the North of his campaign. To accomplish this task, the great Field Marshall Tam Araxon had been given five-hundred fresh recruits, most of them barely old enough to need to shave more than twice a week.

With precious little time to train them in the ways of war, Tam had decided to take a risk. He had raised many eyebrows among his fellow officers, and quite a few among his own soldiers as well, though Tam put those to rest quickly and effieciently.

Tam didn’t train his soldiers in swordsmanship, he didn’t teach them the use of spears, or axes or hammers. He didn’t give them shields, or mounts, or any engines of war. The Old Wolfhound Tam Araxon had given his five-hundred each one weapon, a crossbow. He’d worked them long days and nights, not satisfied until each man and woman under his command could split an apple at eighty yards and split a fly at forty. He’d drilled them again and again on the proper use of the weapons, deafening his ears to complaints.

The second part of the Wolfhound’s plan drew even more groans. During their training, he had marched his five-hundred day and night, ranging far off into the mountains and through densely forested valleys before returning to their training grounds. Each morning, though they slept in the same places, each soldier had to pack up all of their equipment as if they would be carrying it on their back for the day, and often they did. Whatever they were lacking in experience, or in the skills of an ordinary unit of footmen, Tam Araxon made sure his meagre army could march, and shoot.

Then came the day they were deployed. Packing up their gear, as they had many times before, the five-hundred marched to the mountainous border they were to hold against any intruders. The area was isolated and desolate as far as civilization was concerned. One would have to walk for days from their station to reach the first village.

When they unpacked their supplies at the border, settling down in what was to be their wartime camp, Tam’s five-hundred had expected to live out the months, or years, or however long the war lasted in isolation. Tam wished dearly that they had been right.

Eight days into their seclusion, Tam’s scouts had brought him word of an invading army on the horizon. Tam had gone out with them to verify their reports himself. It was foolishness to send a substantial army this far North of the center of combat, any commander would send as many troops as could be spared to the bloody fields where the war would be decided. But sure enough, with his own eyes the Field Marshall had seen the advancing troops. Three thousand heavy infantry, with a wagon train of supplies stretching out behind them.

If they were left to pass through the border unchallenged, they would ravage the Suvan countryside for weeks before a rival army could be scrambled to meet them. Tam had sent two runners to inform the Emperor of the army, but he knew that help wouldn’t come in return. Not fast enough. The Wolfhound would have to do this alone, with his five-hundred.

Immediately, Tam sent his men to work. Their camp was packed and clean of any signs they had ever been there before the day was out, and they marched. Tam’s men stuck to the trees, hidden from their foe’s view. For eight days, the five-hundred harried the opposing army’s flanks and rear in groups of fifty. Striking from a distance with their crossbows before disappearing into the forest, fleeing before they could be caught.

To the Suvans’ dismay, the Alahean army did not halt its progress. As they entered the foothills of the mountains, Tam had redoubled his efforts, sending out more and more parties to strike at the Alahean’s, even sabotaging their supply wagons under the cover of night. However, it was not enough. The opposing army kept up its march, ominously advancing.

Now, on that rugged mountainside with Maccol beside him, Tam was watching the situation get even worse. The action the Alahean’s were taking, the one that worried him and his men so much, was simple. They were lighting the forest on fire.

If their cover was burned back, Tam’s raiding parties would be hindered in their attempts to strike. A cold rage burned in the pit of the Field Marshall’s stomach. It was not just the tactical implications of the fire that stirred him. He worshipped Caiyha, and this army was destroying all that he found sacred. It wasn’t just the fire, fires were natural, forests could not survive without periodic fires. But fires lasted their course, cleared a section of land, and then went out. This one however, was being sustained by the Alahean’s. They were burning a tract out of the forest unnaturally, purposefully destroying a forest too young to taste flames as of yet. It enraged Tam. With a snort, he turned away and began walking back down the forest trail the way Dak had gone, back to his five-hundred. Maccol turned with him, walking alongside.

“What do you plan to do Field Marshall?” Maccol asked. He didn’t ask if Tam had a plan, anybody who spent any length of time with the Field Marshall knew that he always had a plan.

Tam let the question fall on silence for a while, walking down the mountainside with his friend. Finally, he responded,

“I want you to take the men to the Sledge, Maccol. Leave twenty with me, but take the rest.” The sledge was a steep, narrow valley some two miles past the Alahean army.

“What will you be doing sir?” Maccol asked.

“I am going to pray, my friend.” Tam said, clapping the man on the soldier. Maccol looked at him with confusion in his eyes, but upon seeing the resolve in Tam’s eyes, he nodded.

Tam peeled off the trail, striding into a thick grove of trees, where he knelt on the ground. There he prayed, fervently, faithfully. He had never asked his goddess to interfere in a battle before, but now… The Alahean’s would scorch the landscape with a long, unnatural scar to avoid Tam’s five-hundred. They cared nothing for the creatures of these forests and would gladly sacrifice them for the price of saving a few of their men from crossbow bolts fired from hidden sources. Ultimately, Tam had caused this problem. He prayed for a way to fix his own mistake.

As he prayed, the silence of the forest was interrupted by the whisper of light feet on fallen leaves, fading back into the sounds of the mountains almost as soon as they appeared.

When the Field Marshall opened his eyes, sitting on the detritus of the forest floor in front of him was a ring. It was wooden and looked as if it were made from the roots of a tree, braided together seamlessly in a beautiful and endless loop.

Tam picked up the ring, somewhat confused. Slowly, he slipped it onto his thumb. Testing the fit of the ring, he flexed his hand.

The branches of a tree in front of him flexed in tandem with the motion. Tam gazed at the tree in wonder before glancing back at the ring on his hand. He repeated the movement.

So did the tree.

Tam’s face full of wonder soon gave way to a smile.


Tam stood later on a different mountainside, surveying the Sledge. After receiving the ring, he had left his twenty men with specific instructions before joining the rest of his army. The remaining four-hundred and eighty shuffled as they stood on the mountainside as well, arrayed in neat ranks under Maccol’s watchful eye. Tam eyed the entrance to the narrow valley. Over long decades, torrential rains and the small streams of snowmelt had cut away at the rock, leaving precarious shelves of boulders and heavy stones balancing on a seeming knife-edge. One of these precarious shelves was held up by little but a small copse of sturdy trees. That would do nicely.

Tam returned to his men. As he explained themselves they looked at each other with obvious worry in their eyes. This plan was a roll of the dice, all or nothing. Tonight, the Wolfhound would either accrue another victory, or his first defeat. There would be no stalemate.

As the men took their positions, Maccol stood at Tam’s side, fidgeting nervously. At his side was Tam’s banner, one that had waved over many victorious battles. Maccol had yet to fly it on this campaign as it had been one of stealth and secrecy.

The two men stood together, watching the entrance to the valley as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

“Do you really think this will work?” Maccol asked. The Field Marshall chuckled, gazing down at the ring on his hand.

“No, I don’t.”

The answer, while hardly inspiring of confidence, seemed enough to satisfy his friend, as after they returned to standing in silence.

More than an hour after the last of Tam’s soldiers had found their positions, secreting themselves behind boulders or under low mountain foliage, Tam caught sight of his twenty. They sprinted into the mouth of the Sledge, their loud whoops carrying down the length of the valley. Not long behind them came Tam’s quarry.

Five hundred heavy infantry of the three thousand in their foe’s army. Each time one of Tam’s raiding parties had been slow enough to let their enemy form up, they had sent out a party of this number, with their commander at their head.

Tam knew the man from the war past. The man was a decent commander, but he was proud. Whenever possible, he liked to stand with the group that vanquished his enemy. That would be his downfall.

Though they were unseen, Tam knew his soldiers were tensed, waiting for the signal he had told them to listen for. It would be hard to mistake.

Tam herd Maccol shifting beside him, wiping a glistening sheen of sweat from his brow. They waited for several quiet minutes as the armored column walked into the valley, holding their weapons close. Tam had eyes only for the commander, identifiable by his tall, bright-colored banner. The man reached the spot below where Tam had examined earlier.

It was time.

Tarn stood, stretching out his hand to the rugged trees he had strode among earlier that day. From down below, several soldiers pointed and shouted, but he ignored them. With crackling groans and audible sounds of splitting stone, the small copse of trees writhed, their roots tearing themselves free of the ground, throwing up bursts of stone and dirt. Those trees, possessed strength far beyond their weight in men, hardened from their growth on the barren mountainside. With a loud crash, the trees rolled down the mountainside to the alarm of the men below. The real blow however, followed the trees, overtaking them within seconds. A tumbling wave of boulders and gravel slammed into the ground, crushing dozens of soldiers.

The banner fell under a churning mound of dirt. Tam’s banner went up. So did his soldiers.

Lines of crossbowmen rising from the ground, firing heavy bolts into the confused mass of the enemy party. Tam didn’t worry. He had severed the head of the snake; the rest would die. However, he was glad when the soldiers below him waved white handkerchiefs above their heads furiously.

Most soldiers didn’t carry the flags of surrender with them, but enemies of the Wolfhound had been known to improvise.

Word Count: 3322
Boxcode credit goes to Antipodes


Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point. --CS Lewis
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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Gillar on July 9th, 2018, 4:10 am

This Challenge has come to an end. We have 11 valid entries. A poll has been put up and I encourage everyone to vote. While you can of course vote for you own, I ask that you also look closely at other submissions and choose one that, other than your own, best represents the spirit of the given ring. Ask yourselves, does the ring have a suitable origin story? How is it introduced to the world/acquired by a its wearer? How is it used in a significant/memorable way? Does it represent the god who created it? Would it be a ring that you can see existing in Mizahar's history?

This was a difficult challenge to be sure. The prizes for contributing and for the ultimate winner will hopefully be worth the work put forth in this challenge.

For those of you who were able to make it to the end, thank you and well done.

Voting will be open until 9:00 pm Pacific Time, Monday, July 9th.
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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Gillar on July 10th, 2018, 4:40 am

CONGRATULATIONS! The Rings of Power Challenge Weekend Votes have been tallied and a winner has been chosen.

The Winner of this Challenge, with their submission of The Ring of River's Guardian, is Quzon!

His prize will be his choice of one ring from the Rings of Power; any from the list of 50. Please PM your choice and I will do the required modifications/statistical additions. You will acquire this in thread.

For all who participated with valid entries, you will automatically get 1 roll on the list below for your participation prizes. For each vote you received, you will get an additional roll. You may also use banked rolls from last week's challenge.

Now for the Prizes; Divine Idols.

Below there are 48 individual idols; statuettes/figurines if you will, depicting a specific god and/or their area of influence. These idols were created by their respective gods to spread that gods power throughout the world. These idols all have the following traits in common:

- They are 8" tall.
- They are made of stone, some w/gemstone or mineral accents.
- The god whom they represent must be prayed to for them to activate; everyday.
- Activating an idol means that it animates.
- Animated idols are sentient and work to spread the will/influence of their god.
- Idols all have one gnosis mark from the god who created them.
- Idols remain animated for 16 bells (hours) before having to go dormant.
- If lost, stolen or given away, the idol loses the spark that gave it life.
- If broken or otherwise damaged, the idol requires a full day to restore itself.
- The idols act as guides, advisors and sometimes companions and friends but their primary goal is to spread their god's influence across the world with their new "owner" as the vehicle for this.
- The idols cannot remain animated when not in close proximity to their "owner". Thus no leaving them at home to tend to duties.
- The idols are treated as modified traveling NPCs for your use. Other than where noted in their descriptions, treat them as such.
- Idols may be modified based on game use, abuse or other defining factors.
- When animated, the idols may seem like flesh and blood but they aren't; it is just a representation.
- Idols must be acquired in thread.

The following characters have the following number of rolls before any banked ones are added:

Naali 1
Asterope 5
Crylon Stonecraft 2
Anais Seawind 2
Anibesa 3
Ambrosia Alar 1
Elias Caldera 1
Kelski 4
Okara 3
Tarn Alrenson 2

Roll 1D48 and consult below. You can get the same results as another character; there could be multiple idols of the same god acquired.

(1) Akajia – A deep blue colored statuette of a woman. When animated, shadows swirl around the figure. The figurine speaks in whispers. It is often cryptic in conversations. Gnosis: 1 mark Akajia. Skills: Stealth: 10, Subterfuge: 10, Intelligence: 10. Lores: Akajia, Discovering hidden information. Magical Ability: Shroud a 10’ radius in thick shadows making it all but impossible for anyone but the statue and its owner to see in.

(2) Akvin – A strikingly handsome looking statuette of a man dressed in leather clothing. When animated, he tends to observe and offer creative tips on how best to approach a given situation. He can also be a little condescending. Gnosis: 1 mark Akvin. Skills: Gadgetry: 10, Magecraft: 10, Animation: 10. Lores: Akvin, Seeing a use in seemingly useful items. Magical Ability: Animate a child’s toy for 10 minutes, 1/day.

(3) Avalis - A beautiful, pale skinned statuette of a blonde-haired woman dressed in white robes. She is soft spoken and kind. She also offers insight into how others may react in a given situation. Gnosis: 1 mark Avalis. Skills: Fortune Telling: 15, Observation: 15. Lores: Avalis, Understanding the past and how it can affect the present. Magical Ability: When using its gnosis, the figurine can speak in the voice of someone from the past; based on the persons chavi that is being read.

(4) Bala - A golden-haired woman dressed in a gown of dried leaves. When animated, she speaks calmly and gives off the smell of dried leaves. She offers great advice toward farming and harvests. Gnosis: 1 mark Bala. Skills: Farming: 10, Gardening 10: Agriculture: 10. Lores: Bala, Ideal farming techniques. Magical Ability: Improve the output of an acre of crops; potential bonuses for a business dealing in plants, fruits, vegetables and crops.

(5) Caiyha – A statuette of a wolf seemingly formed out of plants; wood, flowers, etc. When animated, it speaks with a voice that is both feminine and masculine at once. It offers insight into the deeper concepts of nature and knows a little bit about everything in regards to mundane flora and fauna. Gnosis: 1 mark Caiyha. Skills: Wilderness Survival: 10, Animal Husbandry: 10, Botany: 10. Lore: Caiyha, Flora and Fauna of Mizahar. Magical Ability: See through the eyes of a single animal.

(6) Cheva – A statuette with long brown hair and warm, loving eyes. When animated, her voice is melodic and inspiring. She often points out signs of love when she sees them. Gnosis: 1 mark Cheva. Skills: Observation: 10, Leadership: 10, Socialization: 10. Lores: Cheva, Bringing two people together for the sake of love. Magical Ability: Guide others to those who exhibit aspects that are ripe for love.

(7) Dira – A statuette of a jackel with one half of its body black, the other white. When animated it speaks with a slight echo as if two individuals are speaking at once. It often comments on how close one may be to death or how surprisingly young one appears despite their age. It despises the undead. Gnosis: 1 mark Dira. Skills: Spiritism: 15, Tracking (Undead): 15. Lores: Dira, Recognizing signs of the presence of the undead. Magical Ability: When presented with an item touched by the undead, it can act as a compass toward finding said creature.

(8) Eyris - This statuette is shaped like a woman holding an open book. When animated, the books pages will randomly flip and it will offer random pieces of knowledge; some useful, others not so much. She speaks in a scholarly tone with only slight inflection. She enjoys speaking about various interesting yet useless bits of knowledge. Gnosis: 1 mark Eyris. Skills: History (General): 15, Anthropology: 15. Lore: Eyris, The basic history of Mizahar and its people. Magical Ability: 1/day offer a single bit of added knowledge on a particular subject. +10 to a specific non-magical, non-combat skill for a single day.

(9) Eywaat – This statuette takes the form of a crow. When animated, it speaks with the voice of its owner but can mimic any voice that it has heard. It offers a mix of pointing out the obvious with pointing out minute details that are easily missed. Can fly up to 25' from the owner. Gnosis: 1 mark Eywaat. Skills: Observation: 20, Intelligence: 10. Lore: Eywaat, Knowing the best place to find certain types of information. Magical Ability: Owner can hear everything that the statue can hear as if they were standing there.

(10) Gnora - A statuette of a young woman with brown hair and gray eyes wearing a necklace shaped like a set of scales. When animated, the figurine offers advice on how best to balance a given situation in favor of the owner. She always speaks in measured tones and doesnt tend to get upset. Gnosis: 1 mark Gnora. Skills: Physics: 10, Persuasion: 10, Politics: 10. Lores: Gnora, Finding a balance; an even compromise in a given situation. Magical Ability: Enhances the owners sense of balance, they will never trip and can perform competent feats of balance with little effort.

(11) Harameus - This statuette takes the form of its owner. It is cryptic in conversation with meanings interwoven with other meanings that at times actually seem meaningless. Those who are marked by Harameus have a better chance of deciphering these meanings and gaining great insight from them. Otherwise, they can seem random and sometimes annoying. The statuette however is patient and rarely gets upset. Gnosis: 1 mark Harameus. Skills: Cryptography: 10, Intelligence: 10, Subterfuge: 10. Lore: Harameus, Deciphering hidden meaning in things. Magical Ability: Decipher languages and written code/riddles in a competent manner.

(12) Ionu - This statuette can appear as almost anyone or anything. It can look female, male or other. When animated, it speaks in any tone of voice, of any gender, of any race. It never holds the same form for very long. It is rather fond of telling jokes and always points out comical aspects of that which it observes. Gnosis: 1 mark Ionu. Skills: Impersonation: 10, Disguise: 10, Persuasion: 10. Lore: Ionu, Tricks and trickery. Magical Ability: Create a mundane, harmless trick or trap 3 times per day that lasts until triggered or until the day is up.

(13) Ivak - This statuette resembles a humanoid figure surrounded in fire. When animated, the fire harmlessly crackles and burns. The figures voice is deep and when angered it rumbles. It often attempts to either diffuse or even stoke its owners anger depending on which it wants most at a given time. Gnosis: 1 mark Ivak. Skills: Persuasion: 10, Intimidation: 10, Reimancy (Fire) 10. Lore: Ivak, Knowing how to enrage or diffuse ones stronger emotions. Magical Ability: Absorb its owners anger and from it produce a single cube of charcoal that can be used to create a fire upon command.

(14) Izurdin - This statuette looks like a perfect sculpture of a man with a red, gemstone arm. When animated, it will sometimes give advice on various attempts at crafting, building or otherwise constructing something. It is not pushy however and will not press the advice; its a take it or leave it sort of thing. It also preaches patience. Gnosis: 1 mark Izurdin. Skills: Blacksmithing: 10, Metalsmithing: 10, Magecraft: 10. Lore: Izurdin, General building and construction techniques in multiple fields of study. Magical Ability: Possesses a strength far greater than its size would otherwise dictate. Can lift up to 50 lbs.

(15) Kelwyn - This statuette has two halves; one side of the body is male, the other is female. When animated, it sometimes speaks with a female voice while at other times a male voice. It is always upbeat even in the most hopeless of circumstances. It offers encouragement in times of distress. Gnosis: 1 mark Kelwyn. Skills: Observation: 10, Storytelling (Inspirational) 20. Lore: Kelwyn, Finding the good in all bad situations. Magical Ability: Imbue a person with a sense of calm when faced with a hopeless situation. Provides a +10 bonus to a single skill if that skill has the most potential at saving a persons life.

(16) Kihala - This statuette takes the form of the race of its owner. It is female and looks youthful with a profoundly caring look on its face with blue eyes and simple garb. When animated, it speaks with a motherly tone and offers advice on how best to improve ones life; although it does so in a kind, non-pushy way that reminds the owner of the perfect mother. Gnosis: 1 mark Kihala. Skills: Leadership: 10, Observation: 10, Shielding: 10. Lore: Kihala, How to get the most out of ones life. Magical Ability: To those she deems worthy, the statuette can grant a single year of extra life to one who is dying. This year will be felt without disease, sickness, weakness, etc. The person will live for the single year as if they are at the peak of their life.

(17) Krysus - This statuette depicts a red-haired woman covered in blood. When animated, she constantly drips blood however it vanishes before it can stain anything. The figurine regularly tries to get its owner to kill or cause pain. If outright threats and anger do not do the job, more subtle ways will be employed. She is most joyous when her owner kills another in cold blood. Gnosis: 1 mark Krysus (without the curse). Skills: Seduction: 10, Persuasion: 10, Intimidation: 10. Lore: Krysus, Knowing where to cut to cause the most pain in a person. Magical Ability: Cause a painful headache to her owners enemy, making it easier for the owner to hurt them. -10 to enemy rolls.

(18) Laviku - This figurine looks like a man with tendrils of water woven across his body. When animated, the statuette is indeed covered in weaving tendrils of water that do not feel wet to the owner. The figure speaks in a grandiose tone and offers advice of fishing, sailing and pretty much anything sea-related. Gnosis: 1 mark Laviku. Skills: Fishing 10, Sailing 10, Shipbuilding: 10. Lore: Laviku, Basic seafairing techniques. Magical Ability: Grant speed and maneuverability to a sea-fairing vessel equal to 1/3 better than similar ships while the owner is the captain.

(19) Leth - This figurine is almost white in color and looks like a featureless figure with brilliant silver eyes. When animated, it glows softly with a dim white light and speaks with a warm, masculine voice heard in the owners head. It enjoys engaging in philosophical conversations. Gnosis: 1 mark Leth. Skills: Astronomy: 10, Astrology: 10, Philosophy: 10. Lore: Leth, Philosophy and the duality of existence. Magical Ability: Owner never becomes lost at night. As long as the statuette is with them, they will always be able to find their way at night. In the presence of Leth, they will never get lost and always find their way to safety and security. Only able to animate at night.

(20) Makutsi - This statuette depicts a strange aquatic looking creature, a mix of feminine humanoid features and those of a fish. When animated, she moves with an almost fluid-like grace and enjoys conversations dealing with anything tied to lakes, rivers or streams. Gnosis: 1 mark Makutsi. Skills: Fishing 10, Swimming 10, Aquaculture: 10. Lore: Makutsi, Flora and Fauna of inland bodies of water. Magical Ability: Call upon and speak to the creatures living in lakes, rivers, streams and ponds.

(21) Morwen - This statue looks to be carved from a single piece of ice. It bares the resemblance to a female humanoid form. When animated, it is cold to the touch and speaks in a cool whisper that inspires chills in ones body. It enjoys talk of cold environments; the plants, animals and people that live there. Gnosis: 1 mark Morwen. Skills: Wildnerness Survival (Focus on Tundra/Arctic) 20, Observation: 10. Magical Ability: Freeze any mundane liquid with a touch. 1 gallon per touch per day.

(22) Myri - This statuette takes the shape of a woman dressed in feathers and animal skins, covered in tattoos holding high a blood-stained sword. When animated, the figuring revels in stories of conquest and war. She delights in any talk of battle and conflict. With an owner who enjoys such things as much as she does, they would have the perfect relationship. Gnosis: 1 mark Myri. Skills: Weapon: Sword: 10, Unarmed Combat: 10, Battle Tactics: 10. Lore: Myri, Battle tactics. Magical Ability: When animated, the statuette, while tiny, is a fierce combatant. She will engage in combat alongside her owner. A serious or critical wound will cause her to go inactive while she repairs herself. Lesser wounds will simply piss her off. She can only cause moderate wounds however due to her size.

(23) Nikali - This statuette depicts a completely nude, amazingly detailed woman with dark hair and dark eyes. When animated, she tends to dance seductively and speak with a voice that drips sexuality. She enjoys stories of sex, lust and resulting obsession and enslavement. Gnosis: 1 mark Nikali. Skills: Seduction: 10, Persuasion: 10, Hynotism: 10. Lore: Nikali, the mysteries and methods of seduction. Magical Ability: Enhance the sexual pleasure of the owner while causing the partner to become addicted to said pleasure.

(24) Nysel - This statuette has a rather odd appearance in that, depending on how the light hits it and/or what angle it is viewed from, it looks different. It can resemble an Akalak, a human or any other race of either gender. When animated, its form is constantly changing although all are mostly humanoid in appearance. It speaks with ever changing voices and enjoys discussing dreams and nightmares; pondering their meanings. Gnosis: 1 mark Nysel. Skills: Philosophy 10, Observation: 10, Dream Interpretation: 10. Lore: Nysel, Reading the chavi of others. Magical Ability: Allows those who touch the statue to fall into a sleep state and be placed in one of their own memories. While in this dreamstate, they are able to recall details of that memory vividly as if they were reliving it.

(25) Ovek - This odd-looking statuette depicts a uniquely stacked series of multicolored dice. When animated, the dice turn, tumble and roll in place; held together by an unseen force. It speaks with random voices and is utterly fascinated with games of chance. Gnosis: 1 mark Ovek. Skills: Gambling: 10, Observation: 10, Persuasion: 10. Lore: Ovek, Playing nearly every conceivable game of chance. Magical Ability: Provides the owner with insight into games of chance in the form of a +10 bonus to gambling rolls.

(26) Priskil - This figurine depicts a fair-skinned woman dressed in white robes that is warm to the touch. When animated, it glows with soft illumination that increases or decreases depending on the statues mood. While its face is always somewhat sad, it actively works to motivate its owner and provide hopeful advice and inspirational stories. Gnosis: 1 mark Priskil. Skills: Leadership: 10, Storytelling: 10, Philosophy: 10. Lore: Priskil, Finding ways to inspire hope in others. Magical Ability: Surround someone in a soft, warm light that not only prevents darkness from touching them but also provides them a boost to their leadership qualities as they are able to inspire others. +10 to leadership.

(27) Qalaya - This statuette depicts a woman dressed in formal robes holding a quill in one hand a tiny book in the other. When animated, the figurine will often write in the little book; recording her observations of her owner and all that happens around them. She often asks what the person is thinking or feeling at random moments and records it. Gnosis: 1 mark Qalaya. Skills: Writing 15, Drawing 15. Lore: Qalaya, Writing detailed accounts of observed events and individuals. Magical Ability: The statuette acts like a personal biographer for its owner; writing down everything it observes. Touching the statue allows the owner to read whatever has been written in their minds-eye.

(28) Rak'keli - This figurine bares the form and visage of a winged serpent; a depiction of similar creatures that accompany the Goddess. When animated, it hovers around its owner and tends to preach healthy living; what foods to eat, the need for more exercise, etc. Gnosis: 1 mark Rak'keli. Skills: Medicine: 10, Poison: 10, Grooming: 10. Lore: Rak'keli, Methods of healthy living. Magical Ability: Heal 3 light wounds per day and with a small bite, purify novice level poisons one may be affected by.

(29) Rhysol - This statuette depicts a small black monkey with white stripes and overly large eyes. When animated, it is somewhat hyper and enjoys doing things that can get the owner in trouble; breaking things, stealing worthless trinkets, spoiling someones drink for example. He is a sucker for attention. Gnosis: 1 mark Rhysol. Skills: Larceny: 10, Escape Artist: 10, Projection: 10. Lore: Rhysol, Figuring out the best way to cause trouble and not get caught. Magical Ability: Can distort ones vision (even the owners) so that they see others in a negative way; beautiful becomes ugly, young looks old, female looks male or vice versa, clean looks dirty. All this meant to paint someone in a different light. May be useful for disguise if the statue is convinced to do so.

(30) Rhaus - This figurine looks like a gentle old man with no hair, holding a stringed-instrument. When animated, the statue will often play music to fit a particular setting or mood. He loves to tell stories and sing when the mood strikes him; it strikes a lot. He is easy-going and enjoys good company. Gnosis: 1 mark Rhaus. Skills: Singing: 10, Storytelling: 10, Musical Instruments (All) 10. Lore: Rhaus, Composing music on the fly. Magical Ability: Cause all action to halt in a 20 foot radius as he plays music that all in the area of effect want to listen to. 1/day, any actions taken during this time other than listening will break the effect.

(31) Sagallius - This statue resembles a childs puppet; stitched together from various materials. When animated, it speaks with a childs innocent voice and enjoys watching people being manipulated by others, no matter how great or how little. Gnosis: 1 mark Sagallius. Skills: Persuasion: 10, Subterfuge: 10, Hypnotism: 10. Lore: Sagallius, Getting others to do what you want. Magical Ability: Enhances the owners words in a way that makes them more able to manipulate others through speech. +10 Persuasion.

(32) Semele - This statuette depicts a beautiful sculpted woman made of various crystals and tiny, sparkling gems. When animated, it moves with surprising grace and speaks in soft, echoed tones. It loves to fawned over and is particularly fond of gems and uniquely shaped rocks. Gnosis: 1 mark Semele. Skills: Geology: 10, Jewelcrafting: 10, Spelunking: 10. Lore: Semele, Gemstone Identification. Magical Ability: Can protect her owner with a sparkling film over their flesh that acts as a weightless and quite beautiful suit of light armor; minus the bulk. 1/day.

(33) Sivah - This statuette looks like a young man in a simple robe holding a large goblet. When animated, he takes great pleasure in getting the owner to indulge in some form of excess such as drinking, eating, sex or all of it at once in the form of parties. He is always looking for a reason to celebrate something, anything. Gnosis: 1 mark Sivah. Skills: Dancing: 10, Singing: 10, Seduction: 10. Lore: Sivah, Party Planning. Magical Ability: The figurine can fill up its goblet (the size of a shot glass) with an unrecognizable alcoholic drink that never has the same taste twice but is always good and quite potent.

(34) Ssena - This statuette is shaped like a female zith in a crouching position. When animated she can hover around the owner but will not go further than 10 feet from them. She is seductive in movement and words but it tends to inspire a hint of fear mixed within the seduction. She revels in the fear of others and enjoys scaring those unaware of her presence. Gnosis: 1 mark Ssena. Skills: Subterfuge: 10, Intimidation: 10, Seduction: 10. Lore: Ssena, Knowing what people find frightening. Magical Ability: She invoke fear in an area centered on the owner and extending out 20 feet. All those affected suffer a -10 to all rolls while in the area of affect. 1/day.

(35) Sylir - This figurine depicts a robed-man with soft eyes and a peaceful look on his face. When animated, he will give advice when asked and will encourage peaceful solutions to problems; reluctantly advocating violence only if there is no other alternative. Gnosis: 1 mark Sylir. Skills: Leadership: 10, Philosophy: 10, Negotiation: 10. Lore: Sylir, Diffusing a heated situation. Magical Ability: When two or more individuals are about to engage in some form of angry combat, the statue will release a wave of calming energy that will force all those within 20 feet to lower their weapons, or fists, and be able to think with clear minds; the hope being they will see that fighting is not the answer. 1/day.

(36) Syna - This statuette bares the form of a humanoid woman holding the symbol of a with a burning sun for a pupil. When animated, the symbol vanishes and the figurine illuminates with a crisp but low light. She exudes warmth and surrounds her owner with a comforting aura of it. She is joyful and inspiring and sees her owner as a true friend. Gnosis: 1 mark Syna. Skills: Observation: 10, Astrology: 10, Astronomy: 10. Lore: Syna, Noticing small details about her surroundings. Magical Ability: The statuette grants enhanced sight when in contact with the owner. Can see, in detail, up to 200 yards line of sight as if they were standing a few feet away. Only animates during the day.

(37) Tavasi - This statuette depicts a young man with brilliant green eyes dressed in simple brown clothes. When animated, he has difficulty focusing and is very high-energy. He is inquisitive and more than a little competitive. Gnosis: 1 mark Tavasi. Skills: Floristry: 10, Gadgetry: 10, Persuasion: 10. Lore: Tavasi, Competitive Games. Magical Ability: Inspire a sense of competition in those who hear his voice by giving them an equal boost in any contested ability and pushing them to see who is better. Up to a +10 bonus in competitive skills for all who hear the statues competitive call.

(38) Tanroa - This figurine is of a woman possible in the middle of her life although her face looks remarkably young though her hair is silver. When animated, the statue moves with a grace that brings to mind the center of a calm, secluded lake. She speaks and acts much like an advisor, offering advice when she feels it is necessary. While she is more than happy to engage in conversation, she tends to steer it toward talk of the future rather than the past. Gnosis: 1 mark Tanroa. Skills: Fortunetelling: 10, Philosophy: 10, History: 10. Lore: Tanroa, How the present is affected by the past and how it influences the future. Magical Ability: The statue can take any moment in time that it observes and recreate that moment on a piece of paper or parchment in perfect detail. The image appears in perfect detail.

(39) Tyveth - This statuette depicts a Syliran Knight armed with a sword and shield. When animated, the figurine speaks with a commanding voice and moves effortlessly despite being encased in armor. He is fond of telling stories of honor and justice and particularly enjoys sitting around a campfire telling such stories. He despises dishonorable behavior and will push the owner to tell the truth and act justly. Gnosis: 1 mark Tyveth. Skills: Storytelling: 10, Tactics: 10, Investigation: 10. Lore: Tyveth, Methods and Importance of Honorable Combat. Magical Ability: Protects against sneak attacks and ranged attacks against the owner. -10 to related attack rolls against the owner.

(40) Uldr - This figurine depicts a man dressed in fine robes with a sad face and black eyes. When animated, it gives off the subtle yet still not all that pleasant smell of old death. It speaks in an oddly comforting voice and moves with elegant, measured motions. It views the living as being tools, toys and food for the dead and often comments so. Gnosis: 1 mark Uldr. Skills: Persuasion: 10, Observation: 10, Subterfuge: 10. Lore: Uldr, All the reasons why one should leave life behind. Magical Ability: Offers a bonus of +10 to a single roll in exchange for 5 years of ones life. No limit but bonuses do not stack. Death from this results in becoming a Returned.

(41) Vayt - This statue bares the form of a beautiful white rat with deep red eyes. When animated, it moves with grace and even gives off a pleasant odor of flowers. It speaks in a friendly manner and is generally pleasant to be around. It does tend to talk negatively about those who display strength and vitality. Gnosis: 1 mark Vayt. Skills: Persuasion: 10, Poison: 10, Medicine: 10. Lore: Vayt, Best ways to cause sickness in others. Magical Ability: Its droppings act like a Novice Level Poison that can cause nausea for up to 2 hours after ingesting.

(42) Viratas - This figurine depicts a large spider. When animated, it moves just like a large-breed of spider and can actually spin a comparative sized web. It speaks in whispers and often speaks of the importance of family and of blood heritage. It is generally friendly but can be somewhat cold. Gnosis: 1 mark Viratas. Skills: Climbing: 10, Persuasion: 10, History: 10. Lore: Veratas, Importance of family and learning from ones ancestors. Magical Ability: By tasting the blood of a sentient being, the statue can impart a memory from an ancestor; vivid and clear as if the person themselves were remembering it. This can add a single skill that the person does not already have, a skill possessed by their ancestor with 10 skill points. 1/day, skill points are lost at the end of the day.

(43) Wysar - This statuette looks like a dark, blue-skinned Akalak with a stoic gaze. When animated, the figurine will push the owner to push their body past its limits in order to perfect it. Even in times that the owner is exhausted, wounded or otherwise diminished, the statue will emphasize discipline and the need to keep going. It also enjoys conversations regarding physical combat and tests of strength and focus on a cause. Gnosis: 1 mark Wysar. Skills: Endurance: 10, Blind Fighting: 10, Flux: 10. Lore: Wysar, The importance of discipline and conviction. Magical Ability: The statue can infuse a person with enhanced endurance for the sake of pushing their own limits for the sake of a personal cause. +10 to related Endurance rolls. 1/day.

(44) Xhyvas -This figurine depicts a small, humanoid creature with exaggerated features and batlike wings. It resembles some of the larger stone figures found on some castles and larger structures. When animated, it can fly no more than 10 feet from the owner. It speaks in a strange, language, unpronounceable to any who hear it save for the owner who can understand it perfectly. It enjoys conversations about deep meanings of life and existence, of time; past, future and of choices and the consequences of choice. Gnosis: 1 mark Xhyvas. Skills: Philosophy 15, Observation: 15. Lore: Xhyvas, The deeper meanings of what it is to exist. Magical Ability: The figurine can perceive the consequences of choice and as such can grant a +10 bonus to a single choice made by the owner OR grant a -10 bonus to someone else; not both at the same time. 1/day.

(45) Xyna - This statue looks like a woman with large, doe-like eyes and dark hair dressed in expensive finery and wearing a large belt pouch. When animated, she loves observing a business transaction taking place. The exchange of coin for goods and services makes her giddy. Gnosis: 1 mark Xyna. Skills: Leadership: 10, Mathematics: 10, Observation: 10. Lore: Xyna, Good business practices. Magical Ability: If given a gold miza, the statue will store it in her belt pouch. The next day, she can produce 10 gold mizas. She can do this up to a total of 100 gold mizas during the course of a season. So for the cost of 10 gold mizas, she creates 100 in their place.

(46) Yahal – This statue depicts a prismatic-colored humanoid figure with a pair of prismatic wings. When animated, the figurine can fly up to 10 feet from the owner. It is constantly swirling with prismatic colors over the entirety of its body. It doesn’t speak vocally but its words can be heard in its owners mind in the form of images, depictions of meaning. These are usually meant to guide the owner down the purest, most faithful path. It is not particularly good for conversation mainly due to its form of communication. However, if one can get a handle on how it communicates, the statue can be quite the talker. Gnosis: 1 mark Yahal. Skills: Leadership: 10, Observation: 10, Philosophy: 10. Lore: Yahal, How to walk the path of the faithful. Magical Ability: Surround a person with prismatic light; deflecting attempts at influencing their mind against their will. +10 vs Hypnotism, Ghostly Possession and Chaon. 2/day.

(47) Yshul – This statuette is shaped like a black, slightly humanoid cat. When animated, it speaks with a females voice and moves much like a cat does but with human hands and feet. It takes great joy in stealing anything it can get its hands on and hiding them on or around their owner. It is extremely friendly and often engages in theft seemingly without conscious thought. Gnosis: 1 mark Yshul. Skills: Larceny: 10, Escape Artist: 10, Acrobatics: 10. Lore: Yshul, Picking a lock with improvised tools. Magical Ability: Can produce, from somewhere, a key that can be used to open Novice Level locks. The key somehow becomes lost after the particular lock is picked.

(48) Zulrav – This figurine depicts a massive stormcloud unleashing a bolt of lightning. When animated, it becomes a small cloud that hovers around the owner. It speaks in small booms of thunder and crackles of lightning that creates a pattern of communication for the owner so that the two can converse with one another. The cloud hovers no more than 3 feet above the owner and cannot be blown away or affected by bad weather. The cloud often speaks in an epic way with exaggerated descriptors. Gnosis: 1 mark Zulrav. Skills: Observation: 10, Intimidation: 10, Reimancy: 10 (Air). Lore: Zulrav, Weather Patterns. Magical Ability: Shoot tiny bolts of lightning at a Novice level.

Make sure you roll and claim your idol before Friday 13th, 9:00 pm Eastern Time.
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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Tarn Alrenson on July 10th, 2018, 5:19 am

Rolled twice from this challenge, (38, 20) and used my 4 banked rolls from last challenge (18, 47, 2, 23).

I decided on 38, Tanroa.
Boxcode credit goes to Antipodes


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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Asterope on July 10th, 2018, 5:41 am

I rolled a 20, 43, 16, 32, and 41.

I'd like to take (16) Kihala, please! Thank you again for the challenge, it was loads of fun. :D And congrats Q!

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Rings of Power Challenge Weekend (6, 7, 8)

Postby Elias Caldera on July 10th, 2018, 5:58 am

1 roll + 4 banked from previous challenge

4, 12, 31, 34, 46

Choosing 34 (Ssena)

Congrats to everyone who participated.
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