Azra sat in his own space in the shelter scowling darkly. He felt ill, well that wasn't the way to put it, there was a wrongness in him. He knew what it was, the Balance. Scince Asmunda had sezied power it had been dirupted. Azra, more atuned to the Spirt world than his fellow Deity's felt it physically. So due to this he was forced to spend his time here on Havrynieh surounded by the living and by his fellow Gods.

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Made by Lembas

The small bird that had dared to intrude into his silent room fell to the floor dead, and he glared at it. Fine, if the stupid animls were going to come and try and say hello he might as well go out. With a swirl of Nothing he vanished into Death.

He sat in exactly the same room, yet the bird was walking about contentedly scratching for food. Outside he could hear the sound of children laughing, yet the sound echoed slightly, like he was ina large chamber. Immidiatly he keeled over at the pain that assulted him.

Ahh..now i rember why i went back to Havrynieh...
"My lord? What are you doing here, its not good for you're health." A woman, Mora, had entered she glowed slightly, showing she was not one of the dead. He had made her to be his aide and conpanion, and she was incredibally bossy.
"Just...ahhhh...just haveing break AH"
"Back, NOW"
"Whatever you say dearest" he gasped sarcastically

Stupid Asmunda. Stupid Balance. Stupid Mora. He stood up and walked into the sunshine, up a dirst track that lead away from the shelter.

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Made by Lembas

Luriar sat in his favorite place, ten feet from the ground in a tall willow, the hissing of the branches harmonizing with the sweet, light melody of his flute. Though he had many different instruments, the flute was his absolute favorite. Swinging his leg off one branch in time to his springy tune, he briefly wondered what the other gods and goddesses were up to, but left the idea without much thought.


But, he suddenly stopped. Was it just him, or did he hear someone talking. Shrugging to himself, he resumed his quick-fingered flute playing, closing his eyes.

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You may (or may not) know me elsewhere as Elfpen

Hythraii, the god of Weather and Elements, was walking along the path of the forest. He was truely a god, and more powerful than you would expect, but really, he acted and looked like a regualer 17 year old human. But, when he was challenged, his wrath could be terrible.

Hythraii walked along a path that many had not trod on, and he looked into the skies. It was dark and looked like rain was coming. But Hythraii knew there was rain coming. Whenever weather changed, he could feel it in his veins. And he knew this storm would hit the forest in a little less than half an hour and that it would hit hard. He smiled. He didn't mind being alone, surrounded by nature and his elements.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

It had broken again.

Kena looked in disgust at the strap of her sandal that insisted upon snapping at the most inopportune moments. For instance, when she was in midair overtop a river swollen by spring rains. It had taken but a few muttered words to dry herself off, but Kena was not fond of her mode of transportation giving out in such an abrupt manner. She scowled down at the charmed sandal. In the realm of the gods it had ever been completely functional, but something about this mortal earth made the magic fray and weaken.

With a sigh Kena tucked the pair of sandals into the satchel at her side, where they nestled against a worn compass and a blank roll of vellum capable of turning into a map of anywhere she wished at a word. She'd have to fix them later, but for now the journey back was looking like a wearisome walk with touches of magic when none of the mortals were watching.

Kena habitually tried to appear entirely human. She'd purposely taken on a form that was neither unusually attractive nor noticeable in any other way. She had no unusual weapons; compass, map and sandals all appeared entirely normal under any scrutiny other than that of the divine; and Kena had no qualms about liberally sprinkling her tanned skin with freckles, giving herself a tall, gangly frame not generally accepted as attractive, and resisting the temptation to have shimmering golden locks for a less conspicuous untidy mane of hair that was not entirely sure what color it was. But she was, altogether, quite happy with her appearance.

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Estelle sat alone under the shade of a mighty tree some distance from her abode. Closing her eyes and calming her mind, she slipped into a deep meditation. As the Goddess of Justice and Rebirth, she had the ability to sense the pain and sorrow around her. She could feel the fear coming from the mortal village not far off-fear that was caused by one of their own. Her eyes flashed open angrily and her hand immediately strayed to her sword before she remembered that she alone would be no match for the Eldest God. "Curse you, Asmundr." she mumbled bitterly, her heart aching with the pain she felt. Pushing back a strand of long dark hair, she rose to her feet and began to practice with her sword, determined to become stronger so she could help bring about justice for her kin and the mortals with whom they all now dwelled.

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AWESOME set by the AMAZING Lembas!!!

The bloody hands were dipped into the bowl full of water, the blood mixed in the water as the man washed his hands. He dried his hands in a rather dirty peace of cloth and threw it aside before walking up to the porch of his house. Behind him rested a number of patients, recovering from wounds received in a bandit attack on them. The world had gone mad and now the old sage was tired of it all, he cursed the gods under his breath for not acting upon it. Nolgos lit his pipe and quietly blew a small smoke cloud into the air with a pondering face as he stared at the sky.

When he had been young the world had at least been simple, people lived, fought and died, but now it was only chaos. People were being killed for no reason and tyrants ruled over the lands, but luckily this desolate village was only harassed by bandits all tough it would have been better, if they had not been there either.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Aranthor swung her swod over her head, she slashed at an invisible foe, If we have any chance at Asumdur we have to be prepared. She stopped her practicing, which had been going on for hours now, and sheathed her sword. She started to walk along a trail well worn from all the times she had walked on it. This was her sword praticing spot, if any of the other Gods and Goddesses could not find her they knew where to look. As the Goddess of war Aranthor was never happy staying in one place, she wanted to be where ever the wars where. Which before Asumdur came, she was ussualy comanding. She paused as she saw Eydis taking to the animals. We are all so different...

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Thanks Nurratiel, *Ennostiel*, PD, and Githoniel

(curi i'm going to appera near you)

Azra stood watching the Healer enter his dwelling, then back down at the wounded man below him. He had felt the call, as he always did when someone was about to enter his realm, and had come to Welcome him. He stroked th mans head absently. Being the God of Death he didn't bother to change or hide his apperance, even though mortals did seem to have an annoying habbit of seeing him as a skeleton with a syth and black cloak. It must be something is thier pycolagy, for he certainly didn't look like that at all.

The dying man gave a grone and Azra drew his sword an laid it over the mans neck.

(Curi, this is where you return)

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Made by Lembas

Padding barefoot along the path - though it hardly merited the name, being little more than a dirt trail - Kena hastily ceased to hurry herself along by dint of some encouraging magic upon sensing a presence in her immediate vicinity.

She needn't have worried. "Hythraii responsible for that?" Kena queried of her fellow deity when he'd drawn near, indicating the pending storm. It wasn't beyond the abilities of the god of Weather to conjure such a thing. "Or is this one real?"

Not being one for small talk, Kena didn't tend to bother with hellos. Either she wanted to talk to you, or she didn't - and if she didn't, there was no getting around it. Generally, however, it was best to play safe around her divine companions. Kena fooled herself with no delusions of grandeur. The ability to travel fast and watch over those of her trade, along with a few magical trinkets, was miniscule compared to, say, alter nature or calm a stormy sea. Not that she tiptoed around them, but politeness could never hurt. And it wasn't as if Devarion himself was really that boring to talk to.

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Estelle quickly sheathed her blade and gazed at the darkening heavens. A storm is brewing. she thought in mild annoyance. I had best return home. With that she started walking down the forest path that led to the abode of the gods and goddesses.

(Edited my bio slightly)

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AWESOME set by the AMAZING Lembas!!!

Death was not a stranger to Nolgos, he had seen plenty of it for one lifetime over and over again. Unfortunately when it came he knew that he had failed to save a life, but sadly usually more people died and less people were saved to live another day. The man had carried a number of wounds and suffered from dehydration, Nolgos had hoped that the blood loss hadn`t been enough to kill him, but apparently the wounds had their victory. There was no way to transfer blood to another human even, if you had it as it was explanatory why it didn`t work. He had tried and failed each time, the damned gods never heeded his calls, but he guessed because none of them was interested in healing the wounds of a dying child.

Nolgos knelt beside the man, despite the figure wielding the blade over the man and quietly gazed at the blade.

"You know you really should find something else to do for once and leave my patients alone"

Nolgos muttered at the figure with the blade, at first in his life he had not seen it, but with age and each passing battlefield he had come to see flashes of it. Now all he saw was a figure of a man wielding a sword.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Estelle stopped in mid-step as she felt another tremor in the balance of life. “Azra.” she groaned to herself, no doubt appearing to take another soul to the land of the dead. She sighed in frustration. Earlier in the week, she had healed a number of wounds at another village, but her powers were not omnipresent, and while she managed to save children in one village, she had failed to save the life of a child in another-a sin she still grieved over. Changing direction in a single fluid motion, she hurried in the direction of the village, arriving in time to see Azra holding his sword at the victim's neck. Estelle's hand strayed to her own blade, as she stepped in the room. "Azra, can you not be satisfied with the life of a child? Must you claim this soul too?" she questioned.

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AWESOME set by the AMAZING Lembas!!!

"Wearing out my sandals, apparently." Kena lifted said object of footwear momentarily, the two halves of the snapped strap dangling with an air of limp defeat. Her next words were tinged with resigned irony. "Wearing them out directly over likely the largest river from here to Copperfells." She tossed her untidy, half-dry mane of hair over her shoulders, which were bare but for the straps of her white sleeveless tunic, and ran her fingers through it. "Sometimes I wonder if they're not a touch vindictive."

A flash of lightning, distant but still followed by an audible roll of thunder, lit the darkening clouds to their back and Kena dropped the sandal back into her satchel with a glance above and behind them. "It'll be the second time today I get soaked if we don't hurry."

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Ignoreing them he plunged the sword into the man, it left no trace, but a breath escaped the greying lips and a smile spread acose them. "I too am a healer old one" He replaced the blade. "And you have no right to question me Goddess, I am needed by these mortals just as unfortunatly you other deitys are." He scowled at her before leaving for Death.

[i]"What did i say about comeing back here?"[i]
"Ahhhh...take this man." He guided the man over to her. His wounds were healed and he looked with puzzelment at his surrondings.
"But..but...this is Death."
"Oh dear, another one. Listen my good man, my name is Mora and this IS Death, now then let me take you to you're farther, he's been waiting for you, and Azra, GO"[i]

He reappered where he had at that moment. No time had passed here in the land of the living.

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Made by Lembas

Nahor trotted away, off to find his mate, and Eydis continued walking alone. She concentrated hard as she walked, listening to the thoughts of the forest animals. Most of the snippits of thought that she picked up were broken fragmented sentences. But some of the more intelligent, complex animals often provided interesting and valuable information.

She let out a sigh. No luck this morning. Somethine felt wrong. She should be able to hear at least something. But she couldn't pinpoint exactly why this strange disturbance in the forest had come about. No doubt a result of the vile work of Asmundr, but Eydis couldn't figure out why it had happened so suddenly. It troubled her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard soft music coming from somewhere close. She knew of only one being who could play music so beautifully. She followed the sound until she came to a tall willow tree. Even if the music hadn't told her that Luriar was up in the tall boughs of the tree, she would have known. One of her gifts was the ability to became one with the wildlife.

"Hello, Luriar," she called. She walked to the trunk of the willow tree and laid her hand on the warm bark. She looked up and after a moment spotted her fellow diety up in the tree branches.

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I'm back!