The Emergence of Nemach the Soulless

Zyphora

One after another, softly glowing markers rise into the sky, bathing the darkness-wreathed valley in 

their warm light.

A lantern passes overhead, cast aloft by its own flame.

The sacred skylanterns float overhead, Cimtri's body becomes translucent, all of its colour and 

essence drifting upwards and following the lantern's trail.

Dozens of softly glowing markers rise into the sky over the Mornhai Sanctuary, carried upon a 

delicate breeze as they float down, illuminating everything in their path in a warm light.

Cries break out among the gathered the spectacle triggers memories lost to the madness. The aslarn 

hug and console each other, tears in their eyes.

A dark smear stains the sky above the Razine Mountains, slowly creeping despoiling the air in an 

eastward track as it permeates the atmosphere with a noxious, putrid odor.

A sickly, gurgling noise whispers at the back of your mind, "Victory is mine, food."

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing 

voice of Mysrai intones, "I sense an unnatural shifting of the paradigms!"

An overwhelming sense of hunger rumbles in your gut as the voice of Crumkane, Lord of Epicurean 

Delights resounds, "And it is tainting the lovely scents of My confections."

The divine voice of Jadice, the Frost Queen reverberates powerfully, "The vibration of the Soulless 

return."

A velvety indigo mist roils through your surroundings, carrying a soft, intoxicating scent that 

promises dark triumphs and pleasures alike as Drocilla, the Enchantress returns to mortal perception.

Withdrawing slightly, the dark smear draws in upon itself, hesitating from its eastern drift.

The divine voice of Yomoigu, the Pyresmith reverberates powerfully, "Most peculiar, it is not one of 

the Soulless behind the Seals, but I agree with Jadice. It has its mark."

Ethereal violet suffuses the firmament as the lilting, smoky voice of Drocilla, the Enchantress 

croons, "It most certainly does."

Gossamer winds whip around you suddenly as the voice of Lisaera, the Silver Goddess reverberates, 

"Does war return again? Has nature taken the first wounds?"

Twisting and writhing, the smear of putrescent air froths upon itself, slowly beginning to drift 

westwards away from the appearing Elder Gods.

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing 

voice of Mysrai intones, "Think you shall escape the perception of the Elders?"

Estarra's voice shatters the cosmic equilibrium, "Elders, you must find this... presence! Make it 

known to us!"

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing 

voice of Mysrai intones, "I perceive it well enough with My thousand eyes."

A sickly, gurgling noise whispers at the back of your mind, "I have no time for such petty, mewling 

creatures as Elder Gods. Your war was lost long ago. You have splintered and died, the Greatest of 

Hungers sleep and dream."

A swirl of indigo fog reveals the flawless form of Drocilla, the Enchantress looming over Magnagora, 

lavender eyes ablaze with fury as She scouts for the enemy and ruby lips half-parted, song almost at 

Her lips.

A sickly, gurgling noise whispers at the back of your mind, "Long have I supped upon the fecund well 

of Nature; there is naught you may do to compare to my power now."

Reality shifts, the sky tinging into whispering veils of changing paradigms as the weirdly-echoing 

voice of Mysrai intones, "You, the least among such Willess creatures as Soulless? You think We 

cannot perceive your nature? I know well what you are, and I suspect the Enchantress shall ascertain 

your identity as soon as the avarice clears from Her eyes."

The fury in Her eyes not lessening one bit, jaw clenched, the Enchantress scouts about Herself. 

"Nemach," She finally intones, "It is you, after all. I can feel you, sense where you are, much like 

you can sense Me".

Slowly, the smear shimmers with a pale light, congealing into a nigh-translucent aberration of 

bloated flesh and writhing, decaying plant vines. Swelling in size, the creature's bloated fore 

forms eyes and mouths, twisted limbs and psuedopods plopping outwards as the Soulless God Nemach 

begins to take form.

 

A sickly, gurgling noise whispers at the back of your mind, "Drocilla! You know me! You have drank 

of my essence, as I drank of yours! Do not turn against me now! Honour the pact!  Bring me the Elder 

Gods and we shall drink together, to grow stronger! Even the Soulless will be naught but food at our 

table!"

Reaching out one twisted appendage lined with stray bunches of hairs, swelling pustules, and 

innumerable digits and teeth, the bloated form of Nemach reaches towards Drocilla, the Enchantress.

Ethereal violet suffuses the firmament as the lilting, smoky voice of Drocilla, the Enchantress 

croons, "The pact had a purpose, Nemach, and that was not it."

The divine voice of Yomoigu, the Pyresmith reverberates powerfully, "Estarra! I have imprisoned many 

of the smaller of the Soulless Ones! I possess the key to the prison, the Pandimensional 

Transformix! He should not yet be so strong that it cannot contain his power!"

A sickly, gurgling noise snarls and froths with rage at the back of your mind as furious, ravenous 

voices argue and shriek in alien tongues, "BETRAYER! ABANDONER! YOU RAGING--! I WILL DESTROY YOU AND 

CONSUME YOUANDTHEREWILLBENAUGHTBUTASHANDSTAINEDSTONELEFTFORYOURMEMORY!"

Estarra's voice shatters the cosmic equilibrium, "Such a babbling thing you are, Nemach. Prepare the 

prison, Pyresmith. Let us get this done."

Yomoigu twists the very fabric of existence before him, folding it over and over on itself until it 

becomes colossal swirling vortex. Sweat beading on his brow, the Pyresmith reaches in and draws out 

the Pandimensional Transformix.

More composed now, the Enchantress hovers above Magnagora, a hint of a smirk at Her ruby lips, and 

slowly begins to edge in a different direction, tempting the Soulless after Her.

A sickly, gurgling noise snarls and froths with rage at the back of your mind as furious, ravenous 

voices argue and shriek in alien tongues, "THERE WILL BE NAUGHT FOR THE GREAT ETERNAL ONE TO FIND, 

ETERNAL ABANDONER! AS YOU ABANDONED US, SO WILL YOU ABANDON THEM. I HAVE EVADED A THOUSAND HUNGERING 

GODS GREATER THAN ANY ONE OF YOUR ELDERS, AND I SHALL HIDE AND GROW IN STRENGTH ONCE MORE!"

Estarra's voice shatters the cosmic equilibrium, "Prepare for your fate, Nemach."

Eyes black as the Void, Estarra the Eternal raises Her hand and shafts of cosmic fire streak out, 

plunging into the twisting form of Nemach the Soulless, who writhes in pain, cracks appearing up and 

down his gargantuan form, until he splits apart into writhing tendrils of darkness.

Writhing and congealing, the tendrils of darkness form bloated, garagantuan tendrils of uncountable 

gnashing maws and grabbing, malformed limbs. Several fly quickly towards the east, lunging for the 

form of Drocilla, the Enchantress.

Splitting off from other groups, massive tentacles writhe about each other, churning the skies as 

they head for the City of New Celest.

As the tentacles meet in the sky over Celest, they are suddenly sent flailing away in a flash of 

blinding light, bits and pieces of them falling away to fly out of sight. The light fades to reveal 

the form of Darvellan, the Navigator.

The divine voice of Darvellan, the Navigator reverberates powerfully, "What is this!?"

Flinging His tattered coat of Half-Formed leather behind Him, the Navigator moves with smooth, 

practiced motions to pluck the stars from the mist surrounding Him, sending them flying at the 

encroaching tendrils.

As the Navigator's stars strike the soulless tentacles, roars of pain rend the air as the tentacles 

are repelled, moving slowly away from the City of Celest with each explosion of starlight.

Turning away at the last moment, the bloated tendrils heading for Magnagora shift course, diving 

towards the Glomdoring, hungering maws lashing at the treetops as crows flutter about furiously.

The tendrils descends towards the Glomdoring, and a victorious howling rises from the alien beast as 

the gargantuan begins to smash the trees with its tendrils, uprooting them and tossing them aside. 

The Wyrden Forest shudders under the brunt, seemingly unprotected.

As the gargantuan reaches towards the Master Ravenwood, it hesitates, as if sensing something, then 

lunges forwards with limbs outstretched, prepared to smash the nexus into splinters.

With a howl, the Wyrden Forest awakens, and from beneath the creature, the trees themselves erupt, 

reaching up and embracing the gargantuan with skeletal limbs.

A keening shriek splits the sky open as something shining, something brilliant and curved, arcs 

through the sky, severing a tendril at its base. As the gargantuan reels, struggling against its 

prison, the form of Viravain, Lady of the Thorns manifests, rising from the soil and canopy of the 

Glomdoring in a slow measured ascent. With one pale hand, She plucks Her scythe from the air.

Effervescent whispers dance through your senses, filling your mind with the soft, feathery voice of 

Viravain as Her voice carries on the winds, "Think you to touch what is Mine? Think you to touch My 

Forest? For My fingers extend to the leaves and the eaves, and the glory of the Wyrd is Mine! I am 

the roots manifest, and I am the soil that you would defile!"

Confused at the sudden change, the Enchantress disappears in a swirl of indigo fog back into the 

city.

In answer, the beast screams out, struggling in the embrace of the trees, ripping a single one from 

the ground. Viravain gestures mockingly, and the roots grow, ripping through the tendrils and 

reanchoring themselves to the ground.

Effervescent whispers dance through your senses, filling your mind with the soft, feathery voice of 

Viravain as Her voice carries on the winds, "And you shall pay for DARING to feed upon that which is 

Mine!"

The scythe of the Goddess sings out, and She laughs, laughs as the tendrils fall like grain beneath 

Her weapon, collapsing into the Forest. The trees respond hungrily, swallowing up into the broken 

pieces of the gargantuan as it is reduced, piece by piece.

Effervescent whispers dance through your senses, filling your mind with the soft, feathery voice of 

Viravain as Her voice carries on the winds, "Die! Die and feed My Forest!"

Lashing out one more time, the gargantuan blasts free of its prison, roaring towards the slight form 

of Viravain in pain-maddened rage. With a scream of defiance, She twirls the scythe into both hands 

and swings, the curving blade of Her scythe burning with Wyrden shadow fire.

Strangely-coloured blood rains down upon the Glomdoring as the gargantuan is parted neatly in half.

Viravain laughs mockingly as the forest feasts. The wreckage left by the beast begins to heal itself 

rapidly as She points here and there, ordering the trees themselves to feed, the roses to bloom, and 

the soil to rise to devour that which remains. As the last damage fades from visibility, the Goddess 

sinks slowly down into the Glomdoring, Her scythe held at the ready as She vanishes into the 

shadowed canopy.

What remains of the tendrils retreat rapidly from the Forest.

Effervescent whispers dance through your senses, filling your mind with the soft, feathery voice of 

Viravain as Her voice carries on the winds, "Nothing matters but Glomdoring!"

An enthralling song echoes from the dread city of Magnagora as an aurora of ethereal violet shimmers 

across the dome which shrouds it protectively.

With a guttural roar the shudders reality, a many-mouthed gargantuan tendril rumbles across the sky 

towards Magnagora, a shower of smaller pieces raining upon the city.

Manifesting in a swirl of indigo fog, Drocilla, the Enchantress appears over Magnagora again.

A spine-tingling shriek shatters the silence of the First World as Drocilla parts Her lips, sending 

the very firmament shuddering in its wake.

The sky darkens over Magnagora as an enormous ooze-dripping mouth slashes at the Enchantress, 

scraping against Her leg as She launches Herself backwards and away, the song still continuing.

The unearthly wail continues, transforming slowly into a haunting otherworldly performance of 

interweaving harmonious and dissonant melodies that enthrall the teeth-snapping gargantuan tendril 

wreathed in rotten plantlife assaulting the Enchantress.

 

The unearthly song crescendos as the floating Drocilla evades the striken enemy and rushes across 

the sky in the opposite direction, sending windows quaking in Magnagora and makeshift obstacles 

crashing; dust obscuring the trail.

With a thud that shakes the very foundations of the city, the gargantuan tendril crashes somewhere 

to the east, followed by a blaze of incandescent indigo - the Enchantress now absent from the sky 

and the ear-splitting song a memory etched forever.

Reeling from the Goddess's attack, one of the tendrils quickly turns away from the fight, flailing 

as it heads towards the city of Gaudiguch.

Drunken cries ring out from the city of Gaudiguch as the Guardian Drachou rises from his perch atop 

the Eternal Flame, his maw stretched wide as he unleashes a mighty roar.

Amidst the resinous fumes and intoxicated cries, Crumkane rises from the city, a rare look of anger 

spread across His visage.

An overwhelming sense of hunger rumbles in your gut as the voice of Crumkane, Lord of Epicurean 

Delights resounds, "Nobody interrupts My cooking, Nemach!"

From the Havens, a coruscating blaze of copper and ebon arrives, tracing maze-like patterns in the 

wake of Mysrai, Beckoner Beyond the Maze as He comes to hover beside Crumkane. With an echoing voice,

 He speaks words in some unknown, fluid-sounding tongue, plucking strands of brilliant energies from 

the air cloak with long, many-jointed fingers.

Barren of either flesh or feather, yet shining with alien constellations where both ought to be, 

wings unfold from the back of Mysrai. As they expand, the God ascends, His figure becoming both 

sharply real and disturbingly unreal, His eyes burning with cold pinpricks of fire. Reality shakes 

as He lifts His hands, summoning brilliant, indistinct weaponry of strange energies from the aether.

Amidst the fires that fill the city, a horde of culinary creations rise towards the Lord Epicurean, 

each one glowing with a Divine aura. Beside Him, the Beckoner calls forth a sphere of ivory and 

copper energies, flinging them towards the tendril.

Distracted from its attack on the Guardian Drachou, the gargantuan whips a tendril of rot and decay 

at the Elder, sending Him flying back across the city. Dodging aside, Mysrai sweeps a wash of 

coppery energy together into meaningless, asemic characters that twirl into a broad shield of 

flickering light, forcing the tendril back.

Regaining His posture and dusting off His suit, Crumkane responds with a barrage of pies that 

dissolve into pure domothean energy as they strike the abomination, which shrinks back as it sends 

out a shrill cry of pain.

The tendril lashes back in response, dimming Mysrai's shield and knocking Crumkane's pastries from 

the sky. Its flesh steams as the baked goods are sent flying back towards the ground.

Mysrai calls forth His shield once more with an almost dismissive flick of His fingers. With a 

strangely-echoing laugh, He plucks further spheres of energy from the air, each glimmering with 

strange maybe-realities. Casting them into the air, He propels them with a shouted word towards the 

gargantuan, sending it reeling and batting at the projectiles in confusion.

Void of His culinary creations to aid Him, Crumkane begins to manipulate His aura, morphing the 

energy into an a spatula of pure domothean power, and He flies through the air towards the beast.

The Elder and the gargantuan square off above the Eternal Flame, Mysrai flickering around them from 

place to place as Crumkane faces off against the creature. The alien wings snap through the air with 

an echoing keen, deflecting the blows of the gargantuan with each movement.

The smoke clears above Gaudiguch, and a resonating thud rings out north of the city. The Lord 

Epicurean descends towards the remnants of the Soulless beast, His portly form disappearing from the 

sky as the wings of the Beckoner slowly fold from miles wide of strange substances to His back.

Strange stars manifest in the sky as Mysrai laughs in disdain, His voice booming and cold as He 

ascends into the Havens and out of sight.

An overwhelming sense of hunger rumbles in your gut as the voice of Crumkane, Lord of Epicurean 

Delights resounds, "Such a waste of My confections."

Zyphora

Their numbers thinning, several gargantuan tendrils break away from the pack, writhing through the 

air towards the City of Hallifax, appendages reaching for the great spires and generators of the 

city.

As the tendrils lunge towards the crystal spires of Hallifax, shards of ice pierce them, pinning 

them against the Northern Mountains, the Elder Goddess Jadice appearing in a frigid flash of ice and 

light above them.

With a gesture, Jadice the Ice Queen chills the air, domothean energy rippling from Her presence 

against them, causing them to slowly to a stop before being encased in ice.

Drawing a snowflake between Her fingers, the Elder Goddess ponders it for a moment then offers a 

cold, distant smile. Blowing on it, Jadice sends it towards the tendrils, causing it to rapidly 

expand into a pillar of ice that smashes against them, eliciting a violent splintering sound before 

the tendrils shatter in a spray of ichor and gore all across the Teeth.

The divine voice of Jadice, the Frost Queen reverberates powerfully, "I judge your existence an 

abomination, Nemach. Hallifax is barred to you. Submit and die."

Gesturing towards Hallifax, a chilling wind of ice and cold whips about the Beacon of Harmony at 

Jadice's command, great chunks of ice and crystal flurrying about it, battering away smaller bits of 

the Soulless God's essence into the mountains below when they are not hacked into pieces and bits 

that erupt in a spray of ichor.

As quickly as she came, the Ice Queen vanishes in a flash of frigid light, though her sudden storm 

remains.

Pausing, the remainder of the tendrils hang heavily over the Inner Sea, as if to hesitate. In a 

sudden flurry of motion they lurch towards the Northern Mountains, dripping liquefied biomatter and 

sludge through the skies over the Serenwilde Forest as they seek to escape the Basin of Life.

Gossamer winds whip around you suddenly as the voice of Lisaera, the Silver Goddess reverberates, 

"Mother Moon, to me! Let us rid the skies of this plague!"

Moonlight surrounds the form of Lisaera, whose eyes glow like molten silver. Drawing down the silken 

moonlight, the Elder Goddess draws it into a bow before her. Shafts of moonlight pour from the 

Waning Crescent in the sky above, forming arrows between the dexterous digits of the Silver Goddess.

Knocking an arrow against the pale string, Liseara shoots forth arrow after arrow of argent beams, 

each piercing the bloated tendrils lurchin forth, eliciting screams of agony from ten thousand 

gnashing maws across its surface.

Raising Her hand to the Moon once more, Lisaera calls down a shower of sterling moonlight upon the 

Serenwilde Forest, which glows ardent hues of emerald as the moonlight turns to mist, shrouding the 

Forest. Her work done, the Elder Goddess glides easily into the forest, bow in hand.

The divine voice of Yomoigu, the Pyresmith reverberates powerfully, "Erm... this complicates matters.

 The smaller Soulless Ones were meant to be put whole into the Pandimensional Transformix."

The divine voice of Yomoigu, the Pyresmith reverberates powerfully, "Mortals, we need your 

assistance! Defeat the small pieces of the Soulless! You must place them yourselves into the prison 

I have constructed."

With the sound of hammer striking anvil, Yomoigu, the Pyresmith, appears amidst waves of shimmering 

heat.

Yomoigu peers about Himself unscrupulously.

Taevyn gives Yomoigu a respectful salute.

Kelly gives Yomoigu a respectful salute.

You blink.

Yomoigu drops the Pandimensional Transformix.

"device59736"                           the Pandimensional Transformix

The length and breadth of the Pandimensional Transformix is smooth and traditionally beautiful. Its 

manifold segments corroborate the existence of its partner in the multi-dimensional chain as the 

construct coils, shapelessly. Disjointed striations burrow through the surface of the device's 

material and reemerge like the tunnels of a worm, and although it is utterly asymmetrical, there is 

a quiver of focused imperfection in its design. Aside from these seemingly random elements, the 

device itself is simple and functional. An inexplicably empty coldness burns hotly from within.

It weighs about 625 pounds.

The Pandimensional Transformix is holding:

Nothing.

It has the following aliases: transformix, device.

Yomoigu, the Pyresmith says, "This will hold the essence of the Soulless."

You see Yomoigu, the Pyresmith shout, "I have placed the Pandimensional Transformix upon the top of 

Avechna's Peak."

Zyphora

With the sound of hammer striking anvil, Yomoigu, the Pyresmith, appears amidst waves of shimmering 

heat.

Estarra the Eternal says, "Is it done, Pyresmith?"

As Leolamins holds the corpse of a slavering blackcap up to the Pandimensional Transformix, a 

ghastly crimson light shines forth from the crevices in the surface of the machine as the segmented 

pieces rapidly rotate and shift. With a crack of thunder, a black shimmering portal forms from which 

dozens of chains tipped with vicious hooks shoot out and rend the flesh of the corpse of a slavering 

blackcap. With a howling shriek, the horror disappears within the opening and you blink, realizing 

that the Chthonic device never changed at all.

 

Yomoigu peers at the Pandimensional Transformix unscrupulously.

Yomoigu, the Pyresmith says, "It is, Eternal."

Estarra creases Her brow in a frown.

Estarra the Eternal says, "A small Soulless One. I thought they were all consumed by the Greater 

Ones."

Estarra the Eternal says, "Do you think others survived?"

Yomoigu, the Pyresmith says, "I know not, Eternal."

You look on in astonishment as the Pandimensional Transformix fades away into the ether.

Yomoigu reaches into the ether and pulls out the Pandimensional Transformix.

It is now the 12th of Klangiary, 401 years after the Coming of Estarra.

You see Estarra the Eternal shout, "Mortals, we have contained the Soulless One known as Nemach. 

Yomoigu will place its prison where it will be kept safe from our creation forever."

You see Estarra the Eternal shout, "Unfortunately, I have some unfortunate news."

You see Estarra the Eternal shout, "Nemach through the Witch of Mornhai was able to infuse his 

essence through Nature itself."

You see Estarra the Eternal shout, "However, his essence has been cleansed, but..."

You see Estarra the Eternal shout, "In doing so, the Seal of Nature has been weakened."

You see Estarra the Eternal shout, "Thus, I must call forth an Ascension where one of you shall rise 

up to recharge the Nine Seals!"

Estarra the Eternal says, "Is the one known as Selenity here?"

Among the sparkling motes of light, a translucent figure appears in the air and then quickly 

solidifies as Selenity comes into view.

A soft whinnying precedes the entrance of a winged unicorn of moonfire and starlit mist as he 

prances elegantly from the ether with a toss of his mane.

Estarra the Eternal says, "Selenity."

Taking a hold of the skirt of her gown, Selenity Siar'luin dips into an elegant curtsey before those 

gathered, before taking another deeper curtsey before Estarra.

Estarra the Eternal says, "We have heard you were instrumental in unraveling the mystery of Mornhai, 

along with others."

Estarra the Eternal says, "The Witch of Mornhai dropped something which I thought perhaps you may be 

interested in."

Estarra gives an ancient diary gilt in elaborate glyphs to Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the 

Arrey Arrane.

Estarra the Eternal says, "Be well, mortals."

Estarra, the Eternal, sinks into a whirlpool of swirling energies, which disappear in a flash of 

light and colour.

Selenity smiles softly.

Looking skywards, her voice soft, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, 

"Thank you."

<< public reading of story commences! (it is 5am good night) >>

Leolamins

I really was hoping Nemach and Drocilla combined forces to take over the basin there....

Pectus

...Neeemaach *shiny touch*

Daraius

Pretty bonkers, thanks for posting, @Zyphora. Don't tell anybody but I think @Mysrai's bit was the coolest.  :-$

Shaddus

I just realised Yomo is a Cenobite from Hellraiser.

Steingrim

Shaddus said:

I just realised Yomo is a Cenobite from Hellraiser.

Peer.

Careful, you realize he has the Pandorica?

I dispute these logs! This is how I remember the events of late.

"Hello, Basin! Who takes the Pandimensional Transformix, takes the universe, but, bad news everyone, 'cause guess who! Ha! Listen, you lot you're all whizzing about. It's really very distracting. Could you all just stay still a minute because I AM TALKING!

Now the question of the hour is, "Who's got the the Pandimensional Transformix?" Answer: I do. Next question: Who's coming to take it from me? Come on! Look at me! No plan, no back-up, no weapons! Hey, quit looking at my hand! Oh, and something else I don't have: Anything to lose! So! If you're sitting up there waving your widdle tentacles around and you've got any plans on taking the Basin tonight, just remember who's standing in your way! Remember every black day I ever stopped your kind and then, and then... do the smart thing: Let somebody else try first".

Vivet

This was really great to read - wish I was there.

I think a common complaint is that the Elders never seem to do anything in big events and are just kind of there, or conveniently shift into the background. This one broke that trend for sure!

Qistrel

All I'm saying is @Drucilla got tentacleslammed into her city, whilst @Lisaera was awesome.

Lisaera > Drucilla

/forumrp

Xanward

Qistrel said:

All I'm saying is @Drucilla got tentacleslammed into her city, whilst @Lisaera was awesome.

Lisaera > Drucilla

/forumrp

There is nothing but Glomdoring. Just sayin'

Qistrel

Viravain was pretty badass, I have to admit.

Arien

Flinging His tattered coat of Half-Formed leather behind Him, the Navigator moves with smooth, 

practiced motions to pluck the stars from the mist surrounding Him, sending them flying at the 

encroaching tendrils.

Raising Her hand to the Moon once more, Lisaera calls down a shower of sterling moonlight upon the 

Serenwilde Forest, which glows ardent hues of emerald as the moonlight turns to mist, shrouding the 

Forest. Her work done, the Elder Goddess glides easily into the forest, bow in hand.

Svana

Crumkane threw pies.

Pies of death.

Death pies.

The man weaponized pies. That is all.

Shaddus

Well, Nemach interrupted His baking.

Xenthos

@Viravain was pretty awesome in that.

Lavinya

I totally did a little squee when I saw @Crumkane throwing pies, it was hilariously awesome.

I really enjoyed the show and thought all the divine involved were pretty impressive. There were some extra messages in Mag, like all the windows in the city shattered in the wake of her sound blast. It was great! And for the first time ever I wasn't a casualty to the death mobs!