I started my life as a slave and wanted nothing more than to be free. Of course, my master was the Forsaken One, so the chance of being free was never really there. When he left, he forgot about me and left me behind.

Of course, all of the other gods just saw me as a slave still, so I spent a few eons pretending to be just that while I stole power from them. By acting in that manner, I was able to gain control of the sphere of deception.

Eventually my power had grown to the point where I was powerful enough to strike and break my bonds as a supposed slave. I saw the Spire as a place where mortals spent their lives trying to keep others from doing what they wanted. This was the time where I pitted Bria and Niryaza against each other. I was the voice in Niryaza's ear to take over the Spire from Bria. When they had battled and weakened each other to a point where they would be easy prey, I killed them and took their power. This was the day I was able to gain control over the sphere of wisdom.

The Sylvan Warders were about, but they were pretenders to the old ways. Their concept was to live like the faeries of the forests, whereas the true old ways was about survival of the fittest. Every one alive today is alive because their ancestors made sure to survive. They weren't civilized people or slaves. They were thieves, murderers, con artists and the like. Since the warders didn't have the stomach to bring things about they really were, it was time to infuse those who would. Hence the destruction of the Sylvan ideals and the birth of the Outlander ideals. This was done by rescuing Saldradien from Zulghinlour and Khasothalas by offering up the godling Blachmianan, having Amaranthe slay the Tribunal god Lorhan and by convincing Sebeok that things will only get better by allowing the ancients to awaken and judge everyone worthy, not just the goods and neutrals. This was the day I was to gain control of the sphere of chaos.

About the marks - I forget what marks they were and all but wanted to know how they'd factored into the whole blast-the-grove business. I couldn't log in at the right times to witness any of the fun stuff, just heard it second hand. There was a lot of fuss over the marks, then it was K-rza and a scion that finally did it? Were they your hand as well? I heard someone say they mysteriously disappeared and I am sure I saw you wearing them when you came to taunt me one time (of many ).

I really like how you've structered the plot in your story - its the kind of simple coming of events (not entirely under your control) that really do it for me. Your character just sits in them so perfectly its seamless. Every time I try to engineer events for a character I invariably mess up at some point and find myself thinking 'crap, where's the plan now?!'

When I do think back, I can just remember wondering why the whiff of sulphur followed every major event. Sorta like kill stealing, but on a god-like scale When you tell it so, it makes perfect sense and great entertainment. Cheers.

Yhorian.

I did and didn't have a hand in the demise of the Sylvan Warders. The basic premise was that the evil orderly gods of Empire had Saldradien. I was the last thing they expected to show up. Everyone was waiting for Sebeok and Amaranthe to do something and the only person who appeared to be actively seeking Sald was Blachmianan. Blach was getting all of his "help" from Lyristeon. Khaso eventually killed off Blach which made them forget all about Sald for a split second allowing me to steal him from under their noses. Then I started helping mortals as a whisper to some, but, mostly Warders who I would have wanted to be Outlanders. The one that really sticks out in my mind was Voronil. He was a Sebeok follower who got way more Imp love than I normally give because he was doing a really good job with bringing down Sylvan and bringing about Outlander. I even boosted his con a couple of times so the story would play out. He was deadly to begin with, but, oh so much moreso after he left Sylvan, it burned and he was just running free. As for the marks, yeah, I do remember stealing them. I don't completely recall the significance other than to aid in bringing down Sylvan. Of course, I couldn't let the mindless heathens of order keep them. I don't remember which faction actually brought it completely down. But, I am sure there was Spire, Scion and some Empire influence in there.

Every once in a while a mortal's plan comes together for him. Ritur was probably the best I had ever seen as a mortal. He could just screw everyone over and get away with it just because it was the way he did it. He was a fuzzy kitten with a tiny mew, but, he had these huge friggin claws that would slice you open if you dealt with him the wrong way. Most people liked the kitten side and so these people, ragers included, would let him gnaw on their bones so to speak because it was cute. As an Imm, plans are a lot easier because you have so much more time to figure out your scheme and with just a gentle nudge here and there, it can come out nice and clean. As for how my spheres came into being and the story, I am sticking to what I posted because it really is a neat way for everything to have come together that way.

The sulfur smell has now become a thing of legend. I can't tell you how many imms have thought it had to do with me passing gas on Innis. I then explain it to them so they can actually see why it is important. My followers who get to meet me understand why it is there and now everyone knows that the scent of sulfur means that the Imp has made an appearance.

My druid was the only Sylvan on when the fires were rampaging and the drow invoker from the Spire was doing the ritual that razed the Grove. I remember running around like crazy putting fires out everywhere. After the fall, I even tried to rp the broken-hearted druid by sulking in the swamp near Seantryn for about 3 moons trying to figure out what to do next.

Which was of course go raid the spire and get the drow to chase me all over the woods and finally down into the sea. Still didn't catch me though he came close a few times (I was 31, before treant and he was 51).

If I remember correctly you even spoke to me a bit while the drow was chasing me. Wished I could've taken that character further because I thought you were going to give him some Imp lovin', but as usual, work interceded and I deleted him. One of these days I'm going to try another druid.

Lirionnael was his name. Crappiest pk druid ever.

About the constellations. I know I have seen or heard of it being used before. I just use it a lot as it adds some really cool atmosphere. My teasing the sun has more to do with the banter that Innis and I have done on occassion and to keep the Outlanders who are opposite-aligned from getting too comfy with each other.

Constellaion info is in the Lyceum. Middle room, all the way south.

"New payment options w/ Iron Realms"

Here is the story from January 2004.

Drekten had asked, "Whose head is that on your staff anyway?".

What a great question. I am glad somebody finally asked. Maybe somebody else asked, I don't remember. But it all started when I was nothing more than a slave for the Forsaken One...

Forsaken One: 'Look at my playthings, Imp.'

Lyristeon: 'Yes, Lord.'

Forsaken One: 'See how they fight for the right to live? They do this just to please me.'

Lyristeon: 'Yes, Lord.'

Forsaken One: The most interesting thing about them is that what they do is futile. Nothing more than a diversion for me. They will all die off when I tire of them and they make new ones for me to enjoy.'

Lyristeon: 'Yes, Lord.'

It was about this time I was starting to think this guy was a pompous ass. He was so full of himself and his playthings that he just ignored everything else around him...or so I thought.

Forsaken One: 'You think me a pompous ass, don't you, Imp?'

Lyristeon: 'No, Lord.'

Forsaken One: 'You need to work on your lying, you aren't very good at it.'

Lyristeon: 'Noted, Lord.'

Forsaken One: 'Would you like your own plaything, Imp.'

Lyristeon: 'Well, you gave me...'

Forsaken One: 'Not that you little twit!'

Lyristeon: 'Yes, Lord.'

Forsaken One; 'How would you like one of my playthings?'

Lyristeon: 'My Lord knows that I don't find those slaves amusing.'

I don't know if he understood the irony of my disliking slavery. He did leave me behind when he left, but for eons, I was his slave. Maybe his gift to me was more than the human head.

Forsaken One: 'Maybe if you had one, you would understand.'

Lyristeon: 'If you say so, Lord.'

Forsaken One: 'Then it is settled, this is your slave.'

Lyristeon: 'What is his name, Lord?'

Forsaken One: 'Name him what you wish.'

Lyristeon: 'What do you want to be called?'

At that point, a howling scream came from it's mouth. It wasn't in pain, it was just howling in answer to my question. I noticed no difference in tone, inflection or breaks to determine a word. He lived because the Forsaken One wished it, but in his cruelty, my slave could not speak. I decided not to treat him like a slave and just as someone who listened to me. After a few years of listening to me, he started to use facial expressions to his screaming to get his point across. When his body couldn't hold out anymore, the Forsaken One opened his mouth and howled at him and the slave howled right back. The Forsaken One ripped his head off and planted his skull on a rod for me. The eyes opened and he howled his greeting.

That was a few eons ago. We now understand each other completely through sounds and expressions.

His name is...Fred. Fred the Head.

-----

I had an entropy thief named Fred wayyy back in the day. He was a blast. He was named Fred because in every way he attempted to appear "normal". Brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average build, so on. Then he'd do something that would make a groupmate/ally/whatever boggle (like steal their weapons that they'd switch out to fight different mobs with and then wield them myself).