EVENT #18: EMERGENCE - IC EVENT LOG

[abraxasmods]

Event #18 - Emergence

OOC Plotting Post ⦁ Pre-Event Info ⦁ Setting Descriptions

Whether voluntary or by force, you find yourself transported to the Singularity's crater. There probably aren't many resistors - officials have taken great pains to convince you to come voluntarily, reserving force as a last resort - but it's clear that everyone is required for this to work. It takes multiple mages to stabilize the portal, but you make it there in one piece. If you cooperate, you'll be asked to walk towards the ancient relic. If you resisted, you might be forced to do so while restrained. Regardless, a heavy fog soon descends around the area, obscuring you and your vision.

If you have thoughts of turning back, it's too late: for some of you, the second you step across the threshold, a force pulls at your chest and absorbs your psyche at once. For others, a mystical call beckons you to walk a little further before the same effect takes hold. And for a rare few, the call brings you to the Singularity itself, where you're compelled to touch it - and are subsequently swallowed up like the others.

The Horizon doesn't greet you like you might expect. Instead, something far stranger awaits.

Please communicate with your fellow players as needed! We also recommend discussing with us if you plan on a major environmental upheaval. As a rule of thumb, you should avoid changes to the landscape that will significantly alter the established map.

We've also posted comment sections for WORLDBUILDING and HANDWAVED submissions. Instructions can be found at the respective links.

Year 20,879

When you open your eyes, it feels like you've only blinked. If your body has transformed or you're someplace that shouldn't exist, it doesn't strike you as odd. You were always here. Everything around you was always here, and your physical alterations and new abilities - while perhaps not originally there - have been a part of you for a long, long time.

The world of Abraxas isn't completely foreign. Familiar territories remain, as well as the familiar faces of those with long lifespans. But a lot has changed in 800 years, too, especially where the Gods are concerned. Alongside the Old Gods of the Ancient Pantheon and the Cardinal Gods of the New Order, a third class of deities formed from you and your fellow Summoned: the Ecesis Gods of the Iterum Pantheon.

Politics, People, & Gods

Abraxas's political landscape remains complex, with continued tensions over land, worship, resources, and power. Nonetheless, since the Free Cities is no longer intent on destroying the Singularity, conflict over the ancient relic has lessened. All territories agree that the Godlands - and the Singularity - belong to the Gods themselves.

Beliefs and Gods

The active presence of the Summoned confirms the existence of the Gods. As a result, most Abraxans turn to the Summoned and other Gods for aid or protection. Extreme reverence exists in certain areas, especially on the Isle of the Lost and in parts of Solvunn. In other places, though, the Gods are merely acknowledged as a facet of life - a force that helps or hinders depending on temperament and should be respected, much like the sea. The Gods play a crucial role, sure, but so do the rain and stars. This is particularly true in the Feywilds, the Nether, and the Free Cities.

Small pockets of non-believers actively denounce the Gods. They claim the Summoned should be wiped from the world and the Singularity destroyed to prevent future invasions. Labeled dangerous heretics by Thorne and Solvunn, and "regressives" by the Free Cities - whose scientists and philosophers liken such thinking to be as foolish as declaring the sun unworthy or the earth to be flat - these people are shunned from society. In Solvunn, the consequences are more severe: heretics are exiled to the Barren, where they are subsumed by the desert, the Maw, or whichever Gods may punish them.

At the other end, some sects revere the Godlands so much that they believe feeding themselves to the relic will enhance Abraxas' good fortune for generations to come. Such cults are quite rare, but there are reports of mortals throwing themselves into the Singularity's crater and disintegrating as a gesture of their devotion to the divine.

International Relations

Due to the combined change in their priorities, Thorne and the Free Cities are less at odds. The Free Cities believes in protecting the Singularity; Thorne no longer seeks to control it. Nonetheless, mistrust flares on occasion.

While things are peaceful during these three months and have been for a few decades, Abraxas hasn't found a cure for war in the Gods. Conflict has broken out in the past and will again. Eyes are on the Nether as it grows in power, and who knows how long Thorne will be content with its losses? Will they convince the Velan Republic to reunite and turn against the Free Cities? For now, though, the territories have found their stride and appear more interested in progress than fighting.

Magic & The Singularity

Magic is relatively unchanged and is a vital part of Abraxan life. The small kingdom of Thorne continues to practice Academic Magic. Meanwhile, Wild Magic plays the same important role in the Velan Republic (formally Nott). Meanwhile, the Free Cities has developed New Magic further. The goal of decoupling magic from technology is less of a focus. Instead, researchers are eager to find new ways to fuse magic and innovation, including aspects of the Gods. Portable shrines, for example, are popular with traveling merchants.

High Magic no longer exists as a specific school of magic now that offerings, pacts, and requests to the Gods are a part of everyday life across Abraxas. Solvunn has returned to its roots, using the ancient Academic Magic practiced by the Lunae for standard tasks while turning to the Gods for greater blessings.

The Singularity has been relatively stable for the past two or three centuries. While occasional disturbances rumble, for the most part, the presence of the Summoned has strengthened it, alleviating its displeasure and ensuring that Abraxas - and possibly the universe itself - continues to exist. Indeed, academic writings from Thorne and the Free Cities across time suggest that the Singularity's devouring of the world has considerably slowed. It is now as much of a threat as the eventual collapse of the sun, something that is bound to occur but not for eons.

Of course, this could quickly change if the Summoned or any other Gods provoke the Singularity by rejecting its connection or denying its magic...so all should take care not to upset the nature of things.

Old World, New World

The map of Abraxas has undergone some notable shifts, although many names and places are the same.

Setting descriptions are HERE for your reference.

Mechapolis, the Witchwood, and the Barren/the Maw contain prompts related to the event itself. Information about those areas can be found under "Exploring the Land" in the section The World as the Divine (Month 1-2).

Month 1-2: Submersion

What do you last remember? Well, that depends. You might recall most things perfectly clearly. You might have new memories that don't feel new at all. Or, you might only remember the most recent year or two. Regardless, there is something missing: an important face, a handful of key events...maybe you don't remember having ever lived anywhere except Abraxas. You might find this unsettling, or you might accept it as just the way things are.

You've transcended those old memories, anyhow. You feel a little distant from the person you were centuries ago, and you most likely look different, too. Perhaps you've sprouted giant wings, become a formless void, or you're now a shapeshifter with no permanent appearance. You've gained a substantial amount of power and influence, the type that people of this world attribute to the Gods.

The first half is a more sandbox-like environment designed for scenarios that emphasize CR and personal character moments. Active conflict between the emergent reality and the world will not arise until the second half.

The World as the Divine

The mortals have bestowed you with a title and possibly a new alias. Do you know your mortal name anymore? Some of you might've taken on a new identity, or you might have held very tightly onto who you were. Regardless, your abilities have grown. Your new powers and appearance are as unique as your dominion, influenced by your interests, subconscious desires, or personal relationships.

While in your full God form, you'll move through the world unperceived. Only when you're sought by a mortal - followers, believers, cultists - can you consciously make your complete divine presence known. To be seen freely by all, you'll have to take on a less overwhelming shape to the mortal gaze. Those who have met the Old Gods or Cardinal Gods in the past finally understand why they seldom reveal their true selves, often arriving in hazy visions or speaking through animals.

Exploring the Land

◎ The Witchwood

As the Summoned continued to ascend, their power began to coalesce, creating a new ecosystem never seen before. The dense woods, originally a temperate climate, warmed and grew into a thriving jungle. The air is humid and heavy with magic, the sky locked into an eternal sunset. Reds and oranges filter through the thick canopy. Birdcall and animal cries echo throughout the jungle. Trees and rocks seemingly move at night, meaning the Witchwood is impossible to map. Foolhardy souls who venture too deep are rarely seen again - unless divine intervention prevents a tragic fate from befalling them. Perhaps one of those intervening Gods is you?

The most dangerous beasts in the Witchwood are the demigod spawns. Creatures born from the Summoned, demigods are powerful enough to affect the world around them should they ever leave the magic-encased forest. See Impact & Consequences for more details on the demigods and how, as the Summoned, you can help maintain Abraxas' ecosystem.

◎ Mechapolis

Heartwood Syndrome persisted in Fomalhaut long after the quarantined population died out. The port city stood as a monument to loss for nearly a century until about 200 years in when the Summoned gained notable influence as Gods. This resulted in a slow but steady acceptance of the Singularity's power as a positive force for potential advancement. New Magic boomed, leading to increased sophistication in technology and the refinement of automatons.

Originally designed to clear and guard Fomalhaut, they were eventually used to rebuild it. Fomalhaut became known as the City of Machines and was renamed Mechapolis. Although humans are barred from entering for safety, the automatons gather soil and air samples for study and perform fishing duties. The clockworks require routine maintenance and must return to a hub city or outpost for recalibration. Clockwork birds are used to communicate with Mechapolis. They can broadcast through the Free Cities's primitive "radio" towers.

You can enhance clockwork performance, boosting the towers or providing additional energy to the automatons. Scientists often have "rituals" when performing maintenance or experiments to earn the Gods' favor, hoping this will prevent their inventions from breaking down.

◎ The Barren/The Badlands

Once contested territory between Thorne and the Free Cities, the Badlands was split into two by a large ravine shortly after Thorne retreated to Hayle. With neither side able to breach the gap, Solvunn naturally laid claim to the western half while the Free Cities retained its eastern half. On the eastern side, the chasm swallowed several well-known bandit camps and the presence of a new entity further drove them away. Bandits now occupy the mountains northeast of Aquila. Due to the entity's threat, the Free Cities increased its military presence in the Badlands to keep careless or foolish travelers from straying too far.

Meanwhile, Solvunn has named its portion of the wasteland the Barren and sought the Gods' assistance to form an enchanted forest. Those who enter are lost forever. Meant for more than just protection, the forest and the Barren serve as a place of exile. Heretics are taken into the woods and left to wander towards the Barren's harsh desert. There, they will face the elements, be devoured by the waiting Maw...or encounter a God.

As a God, you can lead the exiles to their salvation or doom, but choose carefully: the Maw is hungry and must be fed. These exiles want you dead. They don't care for you, and should their lack of faith spread, they might revive attempts to destroy the Singularity - and with it, your home. Is it so wrong to leave them to their fate? On the other hand, saving them might convert them by demonstrating your kindness.

◎ The Maw

The Maw lurks beneath the chasm dividing the Badlands. Named for its gaping jaws, the Maw waits at the widest part of a jagged canyon, mouth open and salivating in the desert heat. Rows and rows of teeth as tall as a man spiral downward into a bloodshot throat. When sated, it retreats deep into the gully, barely visible aside from the shine of a tooth. When hungry, it draws closer to the surface. Hot and heavy winds often carry the putrid scent of its half-digested meals.

Solvunn is not the only territory that uses the Maw. The Free Cities will occasionally march criminals and bandits in that direction, as well, tossing them into the gaping mouth, although this method of execution is much rarer. Desperate exiles from Solvunn will try to cross the chasm despite the danger. None ever make it - at least, not without divine intervention.

Horizon, "Death," and Dormancy

Your domain in the Horizon is no longer constrained by size. How it's changed depends on you. The more detached from your mortality, the more likely it'll have surrealist elements: bizarre statues, physics-defying architecture, odd visual or psychological effects. The Horizon feels like home to all Gods, although you ought to take care not to heed its call beyond reason. Shutting yourself off from the physical world can result in unintended consequences...but completely refusing to enter the Horizon will do the same.

Additionally, Gods are beyond true death, but that doesn't mean you can act with impunity. Engaging in an exhaustive battle with other Gods can weaken you into dormancy. In this state, you will enter an ethereal void inside the Singularity. As you heal, you'll slowly be able to return to your Horizon domain and then the physical world once more. Depending on the extent of the damage, this process could take anywhere from months to decades. For instance, losing your head could take a few months, total dismemberment might take a year, and being vaporized into atoms can take a few decades.

Mortals cannot achieve this level of damage, even if they seemingly "succeed" in striking true. Only a God can weaken another God into dormancy. If a mortal removes your head, you can merely pick it up and put it back on.

Impact & Consequences

In the early years of your ascension, you might've wondered why the existing Gods seemingly intervened so little. Why did they not demonstrate their powers more blatantly over the thousands of years? Is it apathy? A desire to watch rather than act? As you come into your abilities, you realize that the Singularity and the universe are significantly more delicate than you thought. You begin to understand why the Gods have behaved the way they do.

Of course, whether you care to keep the world (and yourself) in balance is another story, but to be sure, some of the other Gods and the Summoned do - and you may have to defend your choices.

The equilibrium mechanic is described in OOC terms HERE. The Singularity and a character's ascension will not inherently sway them one way or the other. Any temptations will result from individual personality and development.

Instability Effects

To maintain the universe's equilibrium, you need to be cautious of when and how you interfere when using your status to alter the state of the world. Conversely, you'll also need to take care not to withdraw entirely. Several Gods have undergone periods of instability, though others haven't. Which category you fall under is up to you. It depends on who you are, your experiences, and your desires.

◎ Should you refuse to ACKNOWLEDGE your Godhood or enter the Horizon, you'll find yourself losing time. You may forget how you got from one place to another, or names you knew yesterday slip your mind. Lapses in memory or time can be temporary or permanent, but one thing they are is certainly confusing. With magic building inside you and nowhere for it to go, your power will begin to spill over, causing the Singularity to exhibit bursts of power that spawn demigods in the Witchwood.

◎ Should you give into the temptation to OVERINDULGE your Godhood or retreat to the Horizon for excessive periods, you'll lose more of yourself and your history. You may make decisions that feel unlike you, forget larger chunks of old memories, or struggle to distinguish what's real. Unrestrained use of magic will cause you to absorb yet more power, causing the Singularity to lose power in brief spurts, which can spawn demigods in the Witchwood.

These effects can be halted or even reversed in some cases. You might need someone's help to bring you back or convince you there's another way, or maybe you're the one seeking others out to assist. What you do soon understand is that your ability to manage your powers and stabilize your connection to the Horizon directly affects the Singularity and Abraxas...something that may have been true the moment you were summoned.

Demigod Spawns

Under the red haze of the Witchwood, monstrous creatures known as demigods or spawns emerge from crimson waterfalls and claw their out through the mossy soil. Born out of instabilities caused by careless actions from all Gods, they're usually contained to the Witchwood. For the most part, the older Gods - and the Summoned, if they choose - keep the demigods from leaving. However, now and again, one or two might escape, damaging towns, destroying villages, or causing ecological destruction in ways that are similar to natural disasters.

Demigods are not sentient. How they look can vary, but their appearances are often corrupted and disturbing: twisted animals, amorphous blobs, or alien-like parasites. They may resemble a monster you recognize from home.

Defeating one is possible but a challenge even for the Gods. Most crucially, you cannot kill your own spawn. Another God must deliver the killing blow, so working together is imperative. Should too many demigod spawns be allowed to invade the Witchwood, they will overwhelm and disrupt the Singularity further. Culling them is the only way to maintain stability.

You can submit demigod spawns you create to the WORLDBUILDING section if you want. Similar to using character powers, just keep the scale of destruction at a reasonable level.

Hearing Echoes

Echoes are a form of prayer that resonates through your connection with the Singularity. Solvunn has dedicated a monument to where the "First Echo" was heard, though the accuracy of this is debatable. Like the Network, you can hear an Echo regardless of where you are and can shut them out with concentration. However, your ties to Godhood may compel you to listen every so often. Mortals can entreat you through more formal methods (rituals, offerings, seasonal ceremonies) or in a moment of duress or desperation. They may seek you specifically or call to any God who will listen.

You can answer or ignore these cries for help as you like, but your choices carry consequences. Answer too many too eagerly, and your increased interference in mortal lives can upset the world's equilibrium - and the Singularity. Ignore your impact on the world, and your refusal to accept your ascension will equally destabilize the land as prayers go unheard.

Interacting with Other Gods

The Old Gods and the Cardinal Gods are an equal part of this world. For the most part, you coexist peacefully, though personal pacts and tensions can play a role. Each of you is aware of the impact of your actions on the Singularity: extreme displays of power are reserved for substantial transgressions, considering the price it carries.

Further, the older Gods have also walked the earth for centuries before you came. To them, you're still young, and rising against one of them won't end well for you. Nonetheless, many older Gods are more interested in giving advice or guiding you, ensuring the health of the Singularity and the universe so as not to doom all of you - Gods and mortals alike - to the void.

You can REQUEST AN INTERACTION with a God. Interactions will be brief but informative.

You will not be able to request a specific God. For logistical reasons, we have curated the list of Gods available ahead of time. However, we'll do our best to pick one from the pool that suits the purpose of your request.

Month 3: Awakening

Over the past 2 months, you've existed in the emergent reality without question. As you enter the third month, however, everything you've known over the past many centuries begins to shift. You might decide to investigate further, wondering if there's more out there that you aren't seeing. Alternatively, you might choose to ignore it, believing that your awakening is damaging the world and your life.

Catalysts

A catalyst can occur at any time through any circumstance. Do you see a familiar face you've forgotten in the eyes of a stranger? Do you recall a moment in your past while watching the mortals? Has a friend approached you specifically to try and remind you of the things you've forgotten?

With each memory returned you'll gain another piece of yourself. Depending on how much you've lost and how hard you'll cling to this reality, the effect may be clarifying or it might cause you distress and confusion. You might begin to encounter temporal cracks: buildings or areas that normally don't exist will flicker in and out of existence, or your reflection will briefly show an image of you from before your transformations took hold.

If you allow yourself to doubt your abilities or divinity, you might have trouble controlling your powers. If you've made alterations to your Horizon domain, it might start to revert to its original design.

These cracks are difficult to ignore, but if you bury your head, you can make them disappear - briefly, at least.

Shattered Skies

The effects go beyond the individual. As more of you and your fellow Gods reawaken, the sky also begins to form cracks that spread like broken glass. Through the fractures, you glimpse flashes of lightning and a swirling fog. The fissures only grow larger.

Soon, you realize you can see the Singularity itself, reflected upside-down in the crater. Disconcerting though it is, it may serve as proof that something is very wrong. Of course, you can also refuse to acknowledge this disturbance, closing your eyes to the crumbling sky. Doing so will let you remain unaware to the very end, but your friends who are seeking the truth might find your denial distressing.

The sky won't hold, though. Eventually, it does shatter completely - and you awaken abruptly, your body and others scattered several feet away from the Singularity's crater as if you were physically thrown out. The fog begins to dissipate. The lightning has stopped, the unrelenting storms fading across Abraxas. Whatever you went through, it seems to have done exactly what the territories hoped: stabilize the Singularity.

Characters will be returned home afterward. They will be thanked for their assistance regardless of if they cooperated.

Resistors will not face any consequences, as long as they don't cause excessive trouble upon their return. Officials will issue an apology for the heavy-handed action, stating that they saw no other way to keep the world safe. With the portals and weather returning to normal, it does seem to have worked...even if characters may not find the method agreeable.

---

Comments

steve rogers | marvel cinematic universe | patron of the venerated

[assembles]

au info ★ plotting comment ★ handwaving ★ patron of the venerated
discord: demonology ★ demonology ★ or PM this journal!

feel free to reach out if you want to plot something specific, but you can also just respond to an ota prompt and we'll make it up as we go along!

months 1-2

[assembles]

OPEN TO ALL

[assembles]

i. the nomad

[ As much as it might make sense for a living statue to simply stay in one place, that is not always the case. Yes, a sentinel is expected to stand guard, to keep watch over their charges, and this is something that the Patron of the Venerated will do, particularly in the Free Cities.

As far as he is concerned, he can serve his duty while also functioning as a nomad, traveling from place to place, his marble skin shrouded under a hooded cloak. It's not as if the mortals can see him anyhow, but what if he doesn't want his fellow gods to bother him either?

Well, the answer is "too bad," it turns out, because the Nomad has learned by now that he cannot escape the interest and concerns of the other memebers of his Pantheon.

His travels most often are contained to the Free Cities, traveling between all four of the main cities (yes, including Mechapolis, which is a rather fitting place for a now inorganic being like him to go). He cannot mingle among the mortals anymore, but he can watch over them, his face impassive as he observes them go about their normal, mundane lives.

He might settle in a graveyard, or the halls of a museum, or even a city center. Any spot where a statue might be found. And then he will go still, and the people moving about might comment on the statue's presence as if it's always been there in their memory, not able to process that there is a god in their midst.

Another haunt of his is Dovetail Springs, where he will stand near the water, watching the scorching sun reflect off of it as people search for shade from the heat either under trees or indoors. He, of course, is not bothered by the heat at all. The sun makes the gold cracks inlaid with the marble of his form shine with particular brightness.

He also, for reasons he can only vaguely remember, will venture out from the Cities to the Isle of the Lost. There is something calming about observing the people here as they tend to the island, and he can while away many hours simply watching them at work.

He will, of course, also venture to either the Godlands or the Horizon itself if he needs time away from the minutiae of mortal life. He doesn't seem to spend much time in his domain, if he even has one, instead settling in other domains that are open to him — such as Sam's, Istredd's, and so on. Or perhaps he'll appear in that of another's to make a house call.

No matter where he is, if he receives an echo he will take care with deciding whether or not to respond. He's seen firsthand what a lack of balance or a refusal to comply will lead to, and has to determine both if the request is trivial or not, and if the person making it is worthy of his assistance. He is, however, more than open to collaborations and teamwork in responding to them alongside other gods. ]

ii. mechapolis

[ Even to the Nomad, who has over the centuries become accustomed to making little noise unless he is actively moving or talking, the atmosphere in Mechapolis is eerie. It's nearly silent save for the sound of the automatons clinking or creaking as they go about their work, with no need for such beings to engage in casual conversation.

And yet there are times when he feels he can relate to them. So much time has passed that there are moments when he struggles to carry out that sort of conversation, even with his fellow gods. It's different with those he considers close friends, his fellow Avengers and those who have made a point of keeping up with him like Diana, and yet...

Sometimes it's nice, to be surrounded by activity and movement, but to not have to think too hard on the specifics of social interaction.

He walks throughout the quiet city, his movements slow and deliberate, and periodically stops to either grant the radio towers or one of the automatons a siphon of his divine energy.

Eventually he pauses to watch the automatons fish off the coast, tugging his cloak around his face as the sea breeze makes it flap around — though his own hair long ago became hard as diamond, incapable of feeling such a sensation. ]

iii. the barren

[ Is it any surprise that not everyone is going to throw themselves at the feet of the gods?

The Sentinel cannot help but wonder, even if the memories are distant and hazy now, if he would have been much the same once upon a time. If he would have rejected the gods as the arbiters of Abraxas.

Still, most are willing to simply reject these heretics and cast them out into exile so that they can die of heat exhaustion or be consumed by the Maw. And, well, supposedly the Maw must be fed, and if it is not, there will be further consequences, potentially leading to even greater loss of life.

We don't trade lives. A sentiment that has existed in his mind for longer than he can remember, that echoes through his thoughts whenever he finds himself conflicted.

As he watches from on high, one of the exiles staggers through the desert, then lifts their waterskin to shake the last few drops onto their parched tongue. The Sentinel looks to whoever is here with him, a fellow member of the pantheon. While he cannot make much in the way of an expression these days, one could almost imagine the ridge of his brow creasing. ]

There's no harm in offering them a way out.

[ It doesn't feel right, to just sit and watch. ]

i.

[itookashot]

Are you seriously pretending to be a statue in a graveyard right now? How depressing are you going to make today, Dad?

[ Jesper appears as a crow with glowing patterns and flutters onto a gravestone, transforming only a second later to his godly form, which is not ultimately that different from how he always looked. Except there is glow to his skin, a warmth to his presence, a magnetic energy that goes along with him that can bring all attention directly in his direction everywhere he goes. It is difficult to tone that down when he pretends to be human, his natural allure downright distracting, but he isn't bothering to at the moment. It doesn't need to be romantic for his presence to draw people in, he is naturally enrapturing.

Jesper lives part of his time in the Free Cities now because he and Hilda went back to their creative routes centuries ago and started developing fashion again. They were tired of seeing their old work turn into relics in museums. When it's just him, he tends to be with the Fey, they throw the best parties, but his fake human life is back here. They have a fun time coming up with entire new personas and backgrounds while they waste their endless time making beautiful clothes. So he is usually aware when other gods are wandering through.

When he transforms he's leaning on the gravestone casually, arms crossed against his chest, dressed in his own fashion. Jesper raises his eyebrows at the statue, knowing all too well who it is, as he has for centuries. And this is far from the first or last time he will call his step-father out on his particular brand of nonsense. It comes from a place of love, as the familial title suggests. Sam may be his actual father (as far as he knows), but so is this drama queen. ]

The only humans you're going to see here are in mourning. There's a music festival in Libertas. You're coming with me.

[assembles]

[ This graveyard is a place that Steve can usually go without anyone necessarily knowing about it, although it's not like it's ever completely possible to escape the attention of his fellow gods when they all have powers beyond their mien, allowing them to sense each other's presence if they really wanted to. Jesper finds him with little trouble, and takes the opportunity to once again question why he can't simply kick back and have a good time with his eternal life.

There's no point in explaining it, not when he's tried to more times than he can remember with Jesper, but it's not that simple for him. No doubt Sam has told him the same, that with these powers comes a sense of duty and responsibility. Steve can't be as casual about it as Jesper.

Still, he suspects he knows why he's in the area, and that it has to do with his and Hilda's decision to keep up a business even now. That insistence on retaining some humanity, even if it's only a farce — that he understands.

Steve slowly turns toward Jesper, his attention successfully shifted. It's true, he is drawn to him whenever he's in the vicinity, and that is simply Jesper's way. Steve can't find it in him to hold that against him, not when it's his step-son. ]

Have you considered that the ones who are mourning are the ones who might need our help the most?

[ They can't simply turn their gazes away from the ugly sides of humanity. In fact, that's where their attention should be most focused, but Jesper has always thought otherwise. Then again, Steve hasn't outright denied him either.

He has always been fond of Libertas. ]

i. free cities.

[exuviage]

[ In Cadens, everyone wishes for rain. Maybe they miss the mild temperatures of winter, maybe the blooming desert is romantic to them, maybe they're just tired of all this dust in the corners of their doorways that keeps accumulating no matter how much you sweep and clean, maybe it's just a farmer looking at the level in the aqueducts. No matter who speaks it, it's an oft heard sigh, echoing in people's hearts, or sprinkled into their conversations on the street, where young unseen gods will hear them while passing through. Yinyue watches people from behind the glass of divinity, despite his relatively small size, and mostly human appearance, but he rarely if ever, walks among them to be recognized. He is content to simply observe, more or less, and when observing isn't enough, to help when something less than a miracle and more than a coincidence need occur. He can move some clouds, surely.

In the city center, there's a great statue of an honest man, standing firm and shining in the little sun that can find its way down past the high city walls. Atop his shoulders is a good place to try and catch the breeze, to see if there's anything brewing out over the sea in the Andromeda Bay, and pull those towards the city.

The tall boy in his teens melts out of the crowd, and without even a pause to judge the distance, jumps up onto the statue's outstretched hand in a single stride. His tail swings softly behind him, a golden bangle ringing against the stone from excess momentum, as Yinyue braces one hand on the Sentinel's shoulder and leans out to feel for nonexistent rain in a mirror image of his perch.

He didn't even think to check to see if other gods were around, and so focused on his task, he still isn't thinking about it. ]

[assembles]

[ It would hardly be the first time that the Sentinel has found himself used as a perch. In most cases, however, it's a bird that's decided to use him as a place to rest its wings, or a human child climbing all over him while a parent chides them for not showing proper respect.

This is... slightly different.

He knows that this boy with his horns and his tail is a god, if a reborn one, but the specifics of how that all came about are beyond him. Still, Steve has seen him around the Free Cities before, as he's seen all of the pantheon around in various areas over the years. So much time has passed, it would be difficult to have not had brief run-ins here and there.

Still, he doesn't begrudge this oversight. Especially since Yinyue seems focused in on something, his power on the verge of being brought to bear in some way.

Funnily enough, he almost feels bad about interrupting him. But it would probably be more awkward if he simply remained still and said nothing, so—

His head tilts up and to the side, almost imperceptible, to try and meet Yinyue's gaze. ]

Has one of them called for your help?

ii. mechapolis

[thedreamer]

[ As time has worn on, the Doctor hasn't necessarily embraced the notion of being revered and set apart from mortals, intent instead on keeping what he considers to be a simple name. There's always been a feeling he couldn't quite explain, a hole inside of him that could never be filled, no matter how many people he helps. He almost dreams of it — something that's...there, but gone. Flashes that make no sense, only serving to tilt the ground upon which he stands.

He's drawn frequently back to the Free Cities, and Mechapolis in particular. Fascinated by the automatons, inserting himself into the process of maintaining their performance whenever he can, he enjoys just observing their movements. They remind him of...something, whether good or ill, he can't be sure. He rarely sees others of the pantheon here, so when he spots a familiar face, the Doctor is only too pleased to approach. They've enjoyed each other's company before, whenever the Doctor's crossed paths with him, and on occasion he's even managed to allow a quiet moment or two before he's shattering it again with his chatter. ]

Look at them go, on and on, day in and day out. Not a single thing changes for them, generally. Things break and fall apart, sure, but...they never go anywhere.

[assembles]

[ It's true that the only other god that the Nomad excepts to be here with any regularity is the Machinist, and so there's a brief moment of surprise, not that it can be made out on his quite literally stony expression as he turns toward the Doctor. Or the Starman, as he's also known — he shimmers with starlight, even on a bright day like this where the night sky is a distant thought.

In truth, the Doctor can sometimes be too much, an unending font of excitable energy, but the Nomad doesn't mind in this moment. Surrounded by the automatons, who are maybe a little too much like him, it's good to have something to balance that out.

And... there's the chatter. The Nomad gives a small nod as he glances back to watch the automatons at work. Day in, day out, no change at all, there's maybe something unsettling about it — and yet the Doctor turns that into a positive. ]

A constant. If they're well-maintained, anyway.

[ These all look to be in a decent shape, though. The god who lives here takes good care of them. ]

In theory, they should never die. [ Not like the mortals, whose lifespans are so ephemeral. It's a small comfort to immortal beings like them, isn't it? ]

ii

[techmaturgy]

[This is the Machinist's domain, and has been for some time--no other Summoned shares the affinity for machines that he does, and in many ways the environmental reclamation happening here feels like a culmination of his own work. Helping the automatons, or pushing their inventors in the right direction, as it were, is one of the few things that gets him out of his workshop.

That, and visitors here, which can be few and far between, due to the nature of the place. He picks up on the Nomad's presence through one of the radio towers, and Viktor is quick to track him down after that, knowing every inch of this place as if it's an extension of his own self.]

I can leave you alone, if you prefer.

[Viktor stays a respectable distance. If he's offended by the intrusion, he'll leave, but he has to admit that sometimes the company of fellow Summoned is nice.]

They're impressive, aren't they?

[Of course, Viktor might be slightly biased.]

i.

[beautifullies]

[ There is a woman in Solvunn whose echoes have been intercepted by Claire more than once. She's a good woman with a small child who tries to do the right thing, but it often results in needing time to be rewound. After so many attempts, what the woman needs is the strength to leave her circumstances and begin again. It's terrifying, Claire knows, and so she seeks someone out who may be able to actually help where her powers cannot.

She doesn't mind searching for Steve, although once she focuses, it isn't difficult to locate him just outside of the Free Cities. Her arrival is accompanied by the soft blue and white hues of moon and starlight, her hair silver and shining no matter the time of day. Appearing in a graveyard of all places, she quirks a small smile, voice pitched low so as not to disturb the peace. ]

Sam never mentioned you enjoy haunting the dead.

ii

[furibund]

[ Nebula doesn't like Mechapolis. The details of why are hazy at best, nonexistent at worst. She knows her body had been altered from its origins long ago with no consent in the matters, knows the pain that accompanied it paled any emotion she could comprehend. It was and she was and somewhere that person had blended into something other - something that's humanity was questionable. Seen as a tool and a machine by too many others. ]

[ This land had been a part of that pain. In the earlier days, when the Free Cities had first lain eyes on her. Demanding to learn from her - be it her will or otherwise. She remembers faintly, the feeling of being a tool. Something she continues to bear, if only as a reminder. A reminder of what she can't allow to happen to others, because that is a desire that burns more brightly than all others: Ensuring someone never has the experiences she had. ]

[ ( Even if she no longer remembers what all those experiences may have been, only aches. Reminders. Her body no longer even looks like it did then, save for the arm. And the arm is hers, personal. ) ]

[ She doesn't like it, but she knows he does. That during the years he's started to see himself as more alike to them than others and - really - hadn't she felt that way once? It's why she finds him on the coast. Her steps aren't loud, but they're not as noiseless as his. She stopped hiding her presence long ago. ]

[ Nebula approaches and leans her weight to one side, propping a hand on a hip with a faint tsking sound from the lips as she offers with no preamble: ]

Not very lively, are they?

[ The Automatons, as much as this city has them fake the idea of it. As much as they move and go about tasks as any worker would. Or, perhaps, she means him in some way. A quiet reminder that he's more than a stoic, impassable mountain. He is alive, isn't he? ]

iii

[godshattering]

Of course not. But that doesn't mean they'll take it, stubborn as they are to have ended up here in the first place.

[ The words are said almost lazily and like an underscoring of some truth from where Sidus lounges, watching the exact same sight as the Sentinel as he leans against some construct conveniently there to be able to do so. There'd been a vague act of examining his nails like they're infinitely more interesting before he'd glanced down to where the exile is making a valiant attempt to stay upright in the heat and far hotter sun, and then watching had taken precedence.

He knows the voice that's spoken to him - recognized the figure as soon as he walked up to claim his current perch, and now he meets that gaze nonchalantly as though he hasn't heard the implied request beneath it. The ask to help, to which he doesn't step forward to as he might have in another life. Perhaps that can be considered an improvement to a few centuries ago where he would have set a chain of unfortunate events in order for the exiles without pausing to think of anything else first. Speaking of that: he then tilts his head to one side slightly with a small chime of the charms woven into his hair.

If the Sentinel deems this to mean he'll have to offer a little more before said request will be acknowledged, he'd be correct. Sidus, meanwhile, arches a manicured eyebrow as though something's just occurred to him. ]

Then again, maybe this time will be different and we won't get cursed for it before the Maw sweeps in to claim its prize. Who's to say?

iii

[sketchycharacter]

Hmm?

[Nathan — no longer Nate, hasn't been in a long time even if he can't remember all of that long time — is distracted for a moment, fixated on the increasingly dried-out mortals below. He couldn't say why he came here, why why he always seems to come back to this particularly grim part of the world between the adventures he blesses and likes to follow along with. It just strikes a chord deep inside, like he's been there himself. Like they've got something in common.

But nah, that can't be true. Not for a few centuries anyway. Still, here he is.]

Oh. Did you have something in mind?

iii

[pathologise]

Will they survive?

( for a calm woman there's a lot in her expression, wonder and curiosity, asking to question a judgement she's learned she can't always trust. at least, that not everyone agrees with her decisions on life and death.

the exile there looks so lost, it feels hopeless to adrienne, but if they were elsewhere would this be a life that thrives? currently it seems not, but if he has a different view she may be able to help. aide life )

month 3

[assembles]

— ★ stephen

[assembles]

[ Cracks have started to form.

Somehow, Geralt had brought up a long-forgotten memory of Bucky, an entirely different White Wolf — but also more importantly, Steve's best friend. Maybe he had never completely forgotten him, but he has to admit now that the memories had faded over time until he forgot how they met, where they got to know each other so well, and why they were so close.

He and Sam had done their best to keep his memory alive, but time erodes most things. Too many things, even the most important ones.

Now he has memories of the place where he and Bucky first kindled their friendship, a place with buildings that were so tall they touched the sky, completely unlike anything that exists in Abraxas. He remembers stealing onto a vehicle with him, the two of them joking and chatting as their stowaway ride took them through the city.

Without Bucky here to corroborate anything, Steve strained to remember if anyone else from Earth also had memories of that place — a city whose name still somehow escapes him. Not Sam, not Wanda, not Rocket or Nebula, but—

The All-Seer. Stephen.

Their friendship has always been one of measured distance, neither of them enjoying when someone got too close, and it's worked for them over the centuries. But they have also worked together enough times that Steve knows Stephen's haunts, and it isn't long before he tracks him down in his Horizon domain.

The place is a marvel, a tapestry of fractal colors, some of the shards of what looks like glass showing moving images of people they know, engaged in conversations or fighting in battles. From what Steve understands, they're alternate possibilities for their reality, but he doesn't see much in the way of memories from home reflected here.

He approaches Stephen, who sits at a massive desk scattered with notes and books and other items of interest. Steve's statuesque face shifts in an uncanny manner as he speaks up to jolt the other Avenger out of whatever it is he's doing or reading. ]

Sorry to show up unnannounced. [ He wouldn't usually. ] Do you have a minute?

[sorser]

[What he's doing is this: a strange mix of meditation and seeking, his eyes closed, his books circling him in an erractic whorl. The fractal pieces of so many possibilities, turning and reflecting and radiating around him. He "sits" at a desk, though sitting is more like floating, his cape billowing about him like he's underwater. The trance is deep; the focus is unerring.

Well, almost unerring.

A voice interrupts his focus; a voice of a fellow god, and one that's more familiar to him than most, is perhaps the only thing that would break his reverie. But break it, he does.

Stephen jolts out of his focus. The books fly away in opposite directions, and the fractal, mirrored pieces of reality shimmer in protest.]

What-

[Eyes blink, widen, and look at Steve. Confusion sweeping over his features in lieu of a dark brow pinching.]

What is it? I'm-- Busy. Problem-solving.

[Which may be a kind way of saying: having a minor freakout.]

— ★ garrus

[assembles]

[ It's all started to come together. Memories of Bucky, then of Brooklyn, then of voluntary experiments. The pieces have fallen into place right alongside cracks forming in the sky with flashes of lightning breaking through. This is not where they're supposed to be; this is not who they're supposed to be.

There's something about the storm, he knows that much. It's how this all started, from what he can remember.

Yet he's noticed that some of the other gods (no, other Summoned) don't seem to notice the cracks at all. It's as if they can't bring themselves to look up and see the truth of things.

So he starts to periodically track down the people closest to him to help them wake up. Maybe it's a cruel thing to do, but Steve doesn't see it that way. Even if some people are happier this way, it isn't reality. They have to break out of this spell, and he gets the feeling that means everyone has to acknowledge that it's an illusion.

Next on his list is the Archangel. The Guardian of the Gray.

No, just Garrus.

He arrives at his domain, an idyllic beach that's all in grayscale, and finds Garrus near the shoreline. Another memory cuts in, causing Steve to stumble for a moment as it hits him. They've been on a beach together before, haven't they? ]

Garrus.

[ Steve approaches him, feeling less and less in home inside this body carved of marble. It isn't right. Just like he suspects the feathers covering Garrus' body aren't, either. ]

[thearchangel]

[It started with a routine rescue. Someone calling for help. For foresight, a clear head. Normal things. And it ended with a fight, with someone flinging a bolt of fire at his face. The world cracked, then. Just a little. Of course, he'd come out unscathed, but his whole body hurt, afterward. Injuries barely recalled.]

[Scars from gunfights. When they barely existed here.]

[The biggest crack was a death. Someone who followed him - a woman, a soldier. She didn't ask much, just a quick question here and there, a brief echo asking for guidance. But he liked her. Respected her. And when she died on a routine recon mission, the cracks threatened to swallow the sky.]

[It suddenly wasn't a random solider. It was Shepard. He remembered, now. And admittedly retreated from it. From the event that sent his world spinning out of control, spiraling into a black hole. So it was no wonder he retreated from everything, from the echos that sounded more and more hollow. A world that felt more and more unnatural - the manufactured sense of peace. So far, no one showed up to drag him back.]

[He hears Steve arrive. He doesn't turn his head. Staring out over the grey sea, gone stormy with turmoil. The massive shape occasionally gliding overhead now flickers, brokenly, crippled and dying. The remnants of the first Normandy cast chill shadows over his Domain.]

Long time no see. I'd... offer you a drink, but. [He gestures to the empty stretch of shoreline. The wing attached to his arm curls, smokes, the feathers setting his skin to itch.]

the missing years (pre-event)

[assembles]

— ★ sam

[assembles]

[ More and more, it feels like normal life for them just isn't possible.

For Steve, it began with people granting him accolades for all the work he did around the Cities. A normal enough thing, even though he did everything in his power to reject the medals they tried to give him, or the statues they built to commemorate his work. Over time, that attention and respect from the people of the Free Cities has led to the development of his Horizon-gifted powers, which have reached a level he isn't always comfortable with.

Then, there was the lack of aging. Obviously, people started to notice. Not just him, but all the Summoned. A few of them have also gone through some physical changes, and not just a pair of horns or a change in eye color or something small like that.

He and Sam have gone back and forth on it. They're changing, their very bodies warping as their power grows, and how are they supposed to handle it? Steve never asked for all this, not when he's always just wanted to live among people and help out the little guy.

You don't get powers and not use them for good, though. That goes against everything he knows, and so round and round they go, trying to decide what's best as they resist feeding into the whispers of godhood.

Steve still can't turn away from people in need of help, though, and so he returns to their home in the city only after checking in on things at the mining camp. It's in much better shape than how he first found it, that's for sure. There was a particularly difficult project on their plates right now, a mine shaft which collapsed unexpectedly and needs to be cleared out. Steve had granted the workers the inspiration to move forward with it.

Still, for as long as they can, they'll fight for their normalcy and their routines. Hence, the house. Steve grabs for his keys and unlocks the front door, then steps inside. ]

Hey — I'm home.

[ He sets down a few things on the little table near the door, then walks into the living space. No Sam. He moves over to the stairs that lead up to the bedroom. ]

Sam? You up there?

[ Maybe he went out somewhere, although they'd already talked about dinner plans. Hopefully there wasn't some kind of emergency, but Steve goes to settle on the couch and give it a few minutes before he jumps to any conclusions. ]

[falcony]

[ that doesn't mean they don't try.

and they do - try that is. even when sam knows, or at least has been forced to recognize, how futile it turns out to be. they try and stay at mag's for as long as they can, which turns out to be longer than they should. sam watches mag age, and then pass, and then tries to carry the inn on in her name. but as the medals pile up and the battles continue, and with both of them (not including the other summoned making a name for themselves) drawing more eyes than either of them really want, it becomes... well. dangerous, in a lot of ways. a nuisance in many others.

eventually, they move out. eventually, steve is steve for long enough that all of cadens starts to idolize him. eventually, sam starts to recognize the sheer way their abilities and powers are changing them, and begins to pull back. it's subtle enough that he thinks (maybe, perhaps, stupidly) no one can tell. pulling back on his calming is the hardest, but thankfully he's in a good enough position most people listen to him all the same. his flight, his control of wind, his healing - it's a decision he makes every day, and then every day after.

he hits a stride, even as he and steve start to bicker a little more often. even when sam starts to recognize his own...he doesn't want to say it's off, he doesn't want to say he's off, but their stride is not as in sync. still, they love each other, sam loves steve, and he can make it work. he can make all of this work. maybe the difficulties are just that he's not built to be turning a hundred, and then a hundred ten. and maybe that's what's wrong, he's just not meant to be this old, and that's why he seems to be...forgetting. or, rather, not forgetting, but losing things. losing time. losing trains of thought. he supposes being upwards of a hundred and fifty means that hours in a day don't really mean as much, and he should be happy with the simple fact he's not in a wheelchair or old folks home or something, but... it's hard. it is. and he knows he hasn't been his best.

they will work this out, though. he knows they will. even today, when sam is just going about chores - having been out himself on errands, on helping out with a few more local issues and some families of soldiers who'd recently got sent off to investigate things out in the badlands - and just made it home an hour, maybe an hour and a half earlier, feeling...

off isn't the right word, but it's also all he can say. because he's fairly certain he only got home about an hour ago, but maybe it was more than that? maybe less? he doesn't remember how he got upstairs or what he's been doing since, but his gut, his stomach, it's upended. it's off-kilter.

he hears steve downstairs, hears him call for him, but he can't...he can't speak just yet. he can't form the words. it's another one, two, three, maybe five or six minutes before he is able to - his eyes wide as he stairs at his hands in the bedroom they share together. as he must be seeing things, but he's suddenly not sure, and...okay, actually. he needs steve up there. he needs steve's opinion. ]

Steve? Babe- up. Up here. Can you...? [ sam watches as the edges of his hands go a little fuzzy, fade in and out, and he swallows. shit, shit, shit, if something is going on with the singularity again- ] Come up here?

— ⚡ notorious mark: odin

[judgmentbolts]

[ This isn't Cid's first run at Godhood. When Ramuh had awakened in him all those years ago, he was a different man: young and driven, foolish and arrogant. He might not have wanted what was given to him, but he had accepted it as well as the price. He'd gritted his teeth and done what he thought was right. He'd dragged the world into a senseless war, all while the Mothercrystals drained the land of life.

He knows better now. He won't see another world pay the price for lessons he's already learned. He'll not become the dictator of humanity's fate, nor another font of magic to be depended on, to their detriment.

But Fate will not release him gently, it seems. The harder he pushes against its calling, the worse it all becomes. When he's at his worst, storms seem to dog him wherever he goes, levin leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Sometimes his tether grows so weak that he vanishes from the world. But he comes back, and he lives, and he doesn't get to die on his terms or live on them either. Even his refusal to submit comes at a cost; the pain was one thing when it was just himself, but now he's gone and opened the wound so wide that a monster of his own making has crawled out of it.

Demigods, people have been calling them. Can't kill them if you've made them. By the time he'd gotten his wits about him, it had already run free of the Witchwood, and he'd had a hell of a time tracking it down again. He's glad he was able to find someone to lend him a hand on short notice, despite all of that. The Free Cities call Steve their protector these days — even if he hadn't been willing to come, Cid would have wanted to warn him of what was lurking nearby.

When Steve walks out to meet him on the edges of Andromeda Bay, Cid drops his cigar and crushes it under his heel. He clears his throat to stifle a cough and holds out his hand. ] I know that I've dragged all of this into your back yard, but I appreciate you coming out like this, old friend.

[ The sun has only just started creeping toward the horizon, so they have a few moments to brief before the creature makes itself known. ] Do another favor for me while you're at it — see that you don't put yourself in the path of its blade. This is a beating you'll not want to take.

[assembles]

[ This isn't the first time that Steve has had to help put down a demigod, nor will it be the last. Some of them have formed out of his own reluctance; even more of them, from Sam's. Steve's already made the calculation that it just isn't worth it to keep digging his heels in, no matter how famous he might be for that kind of behavior.

If he refuses to help, the land suffers. People get hurt. It throws everything out of balance, and if too many of them decide to be stubborn, he worries what the cost would be.

Still, he can't blame people for continuing to hold out either. The reality of what they've become isn't an easy pill to swallow.

A demigod making it all the way out to Andromeda Bay is no small feat, though, and from what Steve's heard, it's left a lot of destruction in its wake. Cid had to tail it all the way here, but it's not like he could have done much — not when a demigod can't be felled by the same hand that gave it life.

When Steve spots Cid, he wastes no time stepping over or taking his hand to shake in greeting. At one point he might have had a comment to make about the cigars, but it doesn't seem to matter anymore. ]

Don't worry about it.

[ What's done is done. They just need to put an end to it now.

Cid doesn't waste any time with issuing a warning, either. Steve snaps his gaze to the slowly setting sun for a moment, but as unsettling as Cid's words might be, they don't suddenly trigger the demigod's appearance. It seems like they have a minute. ]

That bad, huh? I figured it would have had to be, if it managed to make it all the way out here, but...

[ He draws his arms up to cross over his chest, and gives Cid a firm nod. Soldier to soldier. ]

May as well give me the full briefing. What are we in for?