Hall of the Gods

[Orago]

"Welcome, your holiness!" shouts a limping old man holding a broom as he waves to your divine self. "This here is the Hall O' Gods! I have been waiting for what seemed like an eternity for you and your peers to wake up..." He starts sweeping the grey stone ground underneath him. It didn't look particularly dirty. In fact, dirt may not even exist here. Your surroundings look unremarkable. This Hall of Gods is a simple place, a neutral demiplane that any god or goddess may enter. It is a large stone slab floating in an endless grey sky. Near the center of the slab are a number of stone thrones all gathered around a stone cylinder, a simple stone table, if you will.

"Now that you are here..." The old man continues, stopping to catch his breathe "You can use my little ol' spot of the cosmos for having a chat with your divine friends... Now, if you'll excuse me, I do believe it is nap time..." The old man walks off.

Welcome to the Hall of the Gods! Here, you may conduct diplomacy or hold conversations with your fellow deities without harm coming to you.

[Master of Oblivion]

Strathius takes a seat at the table. It pained him to be away from his most recent plundering. He had been stalking a dragon for many moons. He had slain it with a spear while it had defended its offspring. He wanted to wait for its mate to return, but other pressing business had called him away. Looking to the other gods in attendance, he decided to take the first move.

Slouching in his chair, with one hand absentmindedly stroking his flowing hair, he summoned a map of the world unto the great table.
"I would like to claim the North Eastern region of this new world. I want it to be like my home, so I can breed a new group of companions for me in my grand hunt. What says the rest of you?"

The top right of the map turned white and green, showing tundra and pine forests.

[Red John]

Following on from the Hunter's actions, the Shadow, a humanoid-looking entity representing the Lord of Chains, glances to the southern part of the map. Filth slowly oozes out from where it had glanced, and stains the most southerly mountains and deserts.

[LordMoose]

The All Seeing Eye dragon, too big to fit on the stone slab in his current form, flies around in endless repeating circles for a time. around the 974 circle he bellows a huge screech, greyish flames harmlessly engulf the slab, covering everything with a intense grey light. As the smoke clears all the gods notice that the dragon is gone, and a vague understanding blooms from somewhere in there mind "He claims the western islands"

Later on you hear news that a series of volcanos have erupted on one if the islands, while a massive series of huge undergrown caves are discovered elsewhere

[Gesar]

A perfumed lady, barely past what future races might consider her teens, waltzes in, smiling at even the repugnant gods among them as she carries a censer in one hand and a decanter of ambrosia in the other. Her outfit seems to shift upon every gaze towards her - some might see nothing but incandescent starlight, others formal wear from planes past or futures yet to come. "Ah-ha, my friends," Dagrun calls, in a voice that nearly resembles singing. "It is pleasing to see such mighty figures squabble, so that we might all be made stronger!"

"Certainly, my brother might agree, and our dearest mother might yet reveal the truth of our words." Neither of them, obviously, are present, so the meaning of her words is -as per usual- very unclear. "As long as we have already begun this little...soiree, as it were, I stake a claim on behalf of Hrafn -oh, that silly thing is late again, isn't he- and myself. We shall dub it Eyvior, and it will be...delightful, simply!" Setting the censer upon the island in the center-east, she grins to the rest, and turns to Strathius.

"Mmm. A strapping man like you certainly needs a drink before an adventure, hm?"

[Snacks]

As if on cue, a light shines formless and hazy from one of the empty thrones, congealing into a flawless crystal ball that rests in the hands of Mola. Perhaps she appears alongside the totem, or perhaps she was always there. "Well, I suppose that with a little help from my daughter, my course of action is decided."

Leaning forward slightly, she sets the orb on the great table and turns her attention to her daughter as she leans back- her token rolling unguided but for the whims of fate to stop on the peninsula to the northwest of the island claimed by Dagrun and Hrafn. "Ah, how 'unexpected'..." if the goddess of dreams gives a smile at that, her veiled appearance betrays none of it, "The better to keep an eye on my erstwhile children, assuming there are no objections from my peers."

[Azagal]

Manwë, not wishing to waste time, adds his claimed land in the ocean of the north west to the map in the Hall of the Gods.

[Xaph]

Lolth watches the claims.

She is bored.

[Smyg]

A perfumed lady, barely past what future races might consider her teens, waltzes in, smiling at even the repugnant gods among them as she carries a censer in one hand and a decanter of ambrosia in the other. Her outfit seems to shift upon every gaze towards her - some might see nothing but incandescent starlight, others formal wear from planes past or futures yet to come. "Ah-ha, my friends," Dagrun calls, in a voice that nearly resembles singing. "It is pleasing to see such mighty figures squabble, so that we might all be made stronger!"

"Certainly, my brother might agree, and our dearest mother might yet reveal the truth of our words." Neither of them, obviously, are present, so the meaning of her words is -as per usual- very unclear. "As long as we have already begun this little...soiree, as it were, I stake a claim on behalf of Hrafn -oh, that silly thing is late again, isn't he- and myself. We shall dub it Eyvior, and it will be...delightful, simply!" Setting the censer upon the island in the center-east, she grins to the rest, and turns to Strathius.

"Mmm. A strapping man like you certainly needs a drink before an adventure, hm?"

As if on cue, a light shines formless and hazy from one of the empty thrones, congealing into a flawless crystal ball that rests in the hands of Mola. Perhaps she appears alongside the totem, or perhaps she was always there. "Well, I suppose that with a little help from my daughter, my course of action is decided."

Leaning forward slightly, she sets the orb on the great table and turns her attention to her daughter as she leans back- her token rolling unguided but for the whims of fate to stop on the peninsula to the northwest of the island claimed by Dagrun and Hrafn. "Ah, how 'unexpected'..." if the goddess of dreams gives a smile at that, her veiled appearance betrays none of it, "The better to keep an eye on my erstwhile children, assuming there are no objections from my peers."

A single feather falls to the seat of an empty stone throne. It is black, speckled with gold. In the space above the divine table, a raven flies.

Behind Dagrun, a figure with smooth features and a calm smile appears, hooded and cloaked in black trimmed with golden finery. Ignoring his own throne, the Treasurer taps his sister on the shoulder. Three times, very quickly. Exactly three times. "Better watch out, now that mother dearest is around, lest we break our budget. Two such ladies in such vicinity? Hm. The cost of the dream-seers and scrying orbs alone will haunt me." The smile disappears.

"I second the claims of my Sister, and also claim the skerry to our south-west. Let none say I do not fancy the sea."

[LordMoose]

an aide raises his hand, "umm Manwë, we do whish to point out that your claim does possibly overlap some of the islands that the Dragon God has claimed, we would not like to compete for the same land"

[Xaph]

Lolth smiles.

[CarpeVerpa]

A new figure slinks into the hall- covered in robes, so that nothing but their general size and a humanoid shape can be discerned. One could probably think they were an elderly something were they unfamiliar with the god Sereth, and were the figure not able to move smoothly and without apparent difficulty.

Down the figure sits at a random seat, hands seemingly steepled beneath the sleeves of the robes. "Having a little 'divide the world' party, are we? I'd be remiss to not see how the endeavor goes. I'll be sure to have cartographers constantly at the ready to document your squabbles over dirt." A low, raspy chuckle follows this statement, which itself is voiced in a way sounding entirely different, yet distinct, to each god in attendance. The only constant would be the sense that Sereth was speaking in humor, however each individual interpreted that particular meaning for themselves.

[Coin]

As the various gods raise their voices, the faint yet sweet scent of a summer meadow hangs in the air, and the sound of galloping hooves on the hill draws your attention. At the table appears an imperceptable, ever-changing figure of leaves, which nonetheless seems to smile. The booming voice heralds himself as Fuamhaire, the Wildsman.

"Ever are we impatient to spend immortal energies when the better virtue might be joint labours. But it matters not; all that we build, must be a home to creations wild and learned both."

The figure takes a more solid form, and indicates the seas in the north, between the two greater landmasses.

"These lands I shall raise, to become wilds the created may hunt and forage in. I leave other gods to their more... personal designs, but a wish to help life flower in the wilds benefits us all."

[Gesar]

"Ever are we impatient to spend immortal energies when the better virtue might be joint labours."

"In one of Mother's mirrors, I heard a very wise man in an age to come speak of virtue, and how its knowledge must begin with the acquaintance of vice."

Dagrun grins, and continues. "Are you acquainted with the latter, my friend?

[Red John]

Following the arrival of other deities, the Shadow squirms fiercely and releases- quite suddenly- a guttural scream. The stains on the map respond frightfully to the scream and rapidly expand to cover the entirety of the South East of the map. Not soon after does the Shadow, after a brief moment to savour the expressions of the others present, rise from its seat and carefully makes signals in front of it. A small tear soon appears- widening with deliberate slowness, until it is just large enough to fit the Shadow. The blinding darkness emanating from the tear masks what is on the other side; the only hint being the sound of chains creeping through, which rattle in a slow, rhythmic manner. In response to the rattling, the stains on the map rapidly congeal and eagerly dive into the darkness, taking part of the map, and the table, with them. The Shadow follows, and the tear closes not a moment after.