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Events News Post #379

The Worldeater Saga, Part VII: Blood Runs Red

Written by: Anonymous
Date: Tuesday, August 1st, 2023
Addressed to: Everyone


Upon the fifty-fifth day of the Creators' Monomachy, Umbrael still held strong. Girding Creation from the worst of the fateful duel in heavenspace, the tenebrous veil absorbed enough of the collateral damage to grant all of Aetolia a brief respite from the furious downpour of omnipotent essence. The realm heaved a collective sigh of relief, reality's fabric issuing a keening wail as its straining boundaries relaxed in the absence of the wracking torment it had experienced for weeks upon end.

Then, that serenity slipped away.

In a surge of sidereal might, columns of deific power slammed into Polyargos. Perforating its fertile soil with incomparable might, the island heaved in the throes of terraformic trauma that riddled its shores and hillsides with craters. Pooled within each of these deep, earthen divets was Creation's immense possibility, their shimmering depths yielding half-formed, archetypal life. Adventurers from all walks and all sides came to investigate the prototypical monsters raging across the island's volcanic landscape, and early forays into the island's wilderness resulted in fatal run-ins with these eldritch manifestations of Creation's energy.

Several adventurers noted throughout the ensuing days that the essence only seemed to come through above the Isle of Polyargos, taking it as evidence of the continued protection provided by the Divine cloak wrought upon the Monomachy's first day. Mortals conducted bloody hunts and even bloodier battles betwixt one another beneath the inscrutable eye of Twin Creators, painting the island's shores red in the process. Though warfare constituted much of the devotion shown by adventurers, two organisations rose to prominence throughout this fraught time of falling essence: the Argent Watch and the Eschatonic Sapience Collective. Eager to promote the will of their respective gods, these two groups formed the backbone of most efforts in the prior weeks and those to come, with the Eschatonic Collective seeking myriad ways to worship and empower the enigmatic entity that served as the Albedi Creator.

Upon the sixty-first day of the Creators' Monomachy, however, the tumult intensified. The Twin Creators approached the apocalyptic end of Their contained coliseum far beyond the physical reach of Aetolia, orchestrating the downfalls of opposing empires with a mere thought. Waves of power stormed the shores of Polyargos, their passage tearing apart the soil and puncturing its volcanic face with rough craters. This cataclysm continued on unabated for several long, horrific moments, opening up ancient passageways overlooking a volcanic abyss somewhere within the depths of the island.

Tempted by the potent prize in the skies, Omei made Her presence known upon a distant precipice overlooking Polyargos and set to work collecting it for Her own design. With an imperious gesture, She summoned a chaotic servant to gather up the ancient power and direct it towards Her waiting maw, allowing Her an uninterrupted opportunity to feast upon an immense quantity of Creation's unstoppable possibilities. Unwilling to waste any time in the wake of Her empowerment, the Nightmare retreated to the cavernous depths at the island's base and summoned Her vassals to attend Her.

In an act of unprecedented oneiromancy, Omei called upon Myrnma - the Timbrel of Strawberry - to summon one of Astral's chaotic spheres nearer to the Prime. Eager to please, the timbrel dancer put on a grand, primal performance, their rapier and tambourine soaring through the air in surging whorls of crimson puissance. At the climax of this passionate display, Myrnma carved Bhalwyn's heart from his chest, an act of savage ritualism that sparked glee and fervour within the heart of their dread Empress. Utilising the strands of Astral magic manifest by this act, the goddess wove a chain of godly essence and linked it to one seventh of Her planar territory, before anchoring the other end to the soil of Polyargos.

As the Eschaton's Divine supporters make Their moves, loyal mortals mirror Their deific designs...

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 11th of Khepary, in the year 511 MA.


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