Coat of Conflagration: Clash of Deities and Humanity

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BaskinJR

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The assembly of men and women bellowed at the sky as they were rallied in a once ostentatious and burnished town hall, now battered and dirtied by rapidly marching boots.
"The gods have for too long dictated our existence! From this war forth, we choose our own fate, utilise our own free will in our own decisions! The gods will perish to steel and tenacity, and from their cold, dead hands we will extract our freedom!" Cried a barbaric general roped in muscle and sinew.
The crowd replied in a raucous roar that ricocheted throughout their township.
Backing down was not an option.

~*~

Lydia was concerned, to say the least.
What could've possessed the humans to oppose the gods? They were an overconfident, egotistic race at times... but they would not seek conflict with the gods if they didn't have the firepower to enforce it.
Her wings drooped, and she picked at her bowstring anxiously.
The anxiety gnawed at her, and she conveyed it through her nervous glancing around the barracks. As an angel she was wired for battle and blind service of the gods, and in spite of her involvement in many a military campaign and dabbling in godly affairs and conflicts, this was fundamentally wrong. This was genocide.
She turned to Parabolus, a minor deity of the sky, who was tending to pegasi and qilin and deriving what joy he could from pre-battle adrenaline. He whistled a horrific, yet somewhat jovial, tune as he stroked a long comb through a qilin's curly mane which resembled an 80s haircut. It made a curious gurgle in protest, but Parabolus took no notice, his hair exuding some kind of animate life as it popped and crackled. His unsettling aureate eyes stared down a pegasus that was attempting to leave the room before its grooming.
"Why do we do this?" Queried Lydia, elbow propped against a support beam. "Why must we slaughter the humans blindly?"
Parabolus frowned. "You know perfectly well why. They have strayed much too far from their intended path of serenity. They have become a genuine danger to the other races. They are our creations, and so they are our responsibility to dispose of." He grinned mischievously. "Capish?"
Lydia crossed her arms indignantly. "That fails to rectify our actions."
Parabolus smirked. "Chill, Lydia. Get ready for battle."
Lydia huffed to convey her displeasure, and returned to the honing of her arrows.

~*~

The gods and men are at war, and the antagonism has gained such traction that many have been swept into the fray.
Whether you side with deity or human, the outcome of this war will have a monumental impact on the history of the realm.

(Disclaimer): This is set in an alternate dimension, in which there is a pantheon of gods, and their interactions with mortals are very prevalent in this world's history. Most mythological races, creatures and malign monsters exist in this realm. This should in no way infringe on one's religious beliefs, as this is in another world. There is no obligations to sign up, and you may simply leap into the RP.
This is set toward the end of ancient times, on the cusp of the Middle Ages, but the gods are much more evolved and may make modern references.
 
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Artio sat, furious, in her realm of the Bear. She was situated on her throne, surrounded by bears and angels, all summoning weapons and armour, distributing them to the mass of warrior bears. She was one of the select few who had opposed the creation of humans in the beginning of their time. Humans were meant to be a combination of all the god's creatures, all of their appearance and behaviour. However, Artios's creatures, the Bear, were unlike the humans in every way. Therefore, She was raging because she was right, all those eons ago. The others hadn't apologised, or thanked or even acknowledged that she had been RIGHT! Now was the time to show them. Now was the time to show them that Artios, Gaulish goddess of Bear and Beast, would be the one to end and resolve their pathetic mistake! She roared, her mighty roar echoing through the realms, and most of all the human realm. They would recognise her voice, and they would fear her voice. They would know that she had been right, and they had been wrong...
 
Ryner was in his tent equipping his at armor. He looked at the gauntlets he had with the mark of the bear. He did not care for this war. No side was going to win as far as he was concerned. He strapped on a sword as he heard a mighty roar echo through the land. "Looks like the godess artio is ready to fight." He slowly walked out his tent when he was greeted by his lieutenant. "Sir what was that its got the men a bit disoriented." Ryner looked looked at his lieutenant and then out to his men. "That was the roar of the goddess artio. It looks as though she is ready to fight. Most of you know I do not want to fight in this war. No side is going to have victory, just a bunch of blood stained ground and crying widows."
 
Axel rolled his shoulders back, straightening his stature. No, neither of them really wanted to battle, but as army men and warriors for the Goddess, they had little to no choice. He snorted. At least it was something to do. With a ruffle of soft white feathers he shook off the last of the unexpected adrenaline rush caused by the roar of battle. The white haired angel fastened his mace into the back of the shield and double checked for both his daggers and his broadsword.

Axel was new to the ranks. One of the last to join within the last fifty years and no new recruits had been added since.

Now, Axel did not have anything against humans, it was just that they were no different from what they were in terms of thinking. If they wanted something, they would stop at nothing to get it. As it were, they wanted a war that would have to come to an end. And as it stood, they would have their war, and their end.​
 
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Artio leapt from her throne, her bear claws clicking on the stone pathway. She called for her lieutenants and their personal bodyguards, usually an honorary role carried out by a recruit. As she waited in the command tent for her lieutenants, she wondered whether the humans would still carry out their 'war' after hearing her mighty voice, while grinning maliciously.

~~~

A small group of Gauls in in western gallica heard Artios's roar, and worshipped it. They joined the human army, planning to defect and show their true colours for Artios when the humans were at their most critical point.
 
(Quimbra my character is human.)
Ryner grabbed his shield as his men prepared for war. He turned to face his men. "It has been an honor serving as your commander." He put on his helmet that resembled a beats head and began to march in front of his men
 
Thakrä giggled, high pitched and with a slight phsycotic tone, rumbling the leviathan, dark fortress. Dark red, crusted blood coated her throne of Maluk Steel, a metal forged from corrupt, godly powers. Light seemed to be sucked out of the air as the deity sat in it, struggling to breathe as she laughed. A pair of white, mottled wings were nestled on her back. Her whole body seemed to flicker into different sizes estaticly, a thin red line surrounding her entire body. Suddenly, Thakrä stopped, floating in front of her throne, at least three metres tall, towering above the cowering messenger in front of her. Long black wings spread out and her suddenly blood red eyes maliciously stared into the terrified human's eyes. The human suddenly froze, a look of horror implanted on its face, and six blades burst from inside of it. The deity flickered back onto the chair into a form with white wings and emerald green eyes, with a bored expression half lying down on the throne. A purple telekinetic shield wrapped around the body and gently dragged it out of the fortress to a nearby ditch.
"War, they say? I can do war. War it is. This. Will. Be. FUN!" Her last words echoed for miles. "Organise a capture troop, of level 7 quality at the gates straight away," she snapped into the shadows.
"Yes, my Majesty," a ghostly spectre, armed with thick plates protecting his body. The spectre disappeared, and a smile once again rose to her face.
"War."
 
Brekkr yelped in raw, consuming fright as angels, minor gods and divine creatures waded into the army of humans and their allied auxiliary battalions.
He shrank anxiously behind his shield, a diminutive window of salvation from the hail of projectiles.
A herculean brute of a satyr approached Brekkr, face mutilated by the horrors of war, white scars lining his arms.
The human's had the majority of satyrs in their auxiliary forces. But judging by the verdant green sash emblazoned with a scythe around the satyr's torso, it must've been under the goddess of nature, Verda.
Brekkr, who was reluctant to participate in this battle initially, now was doubly assured this was a was a bad idea.
He receded rapidly into the cascading army, colliding with many an iron-clad soldier.
"Sorry! Sorry... sorry!"
"Get out of the bloody way!"
The satyr retracted somewhat, making a well established gesture of 'I'm not done with you yet', stroking a finger across the tousled hair of his throat.
A cataract of angelic reinforcements for the gods descended in a tumbling maelstrom. When they made contact with the earth, a catastrophic shockwave ripped across the battlefield, incandescent blue ripples decimating humans where they stood.
Such was the terrifying power of the gods.
The humans had roused it, and their arrogance would be their undoing.
Sound so high pitched that Brekkr bled from his ears and was buffeted by his own rattling armour surged throughout.
An angel advanced, armour bouncing slightly. It was made of some light, durable polymer, and it granted much mobility despite its illusory weight. The angel herself had short cropped, tenebrous hair as straight as wrought onyx. Her eyes seemed to fluctuate and change hue. When her stance was lowered (and even then she was incredibly tense), they were a dim, glacial azure. But when she positioned herself with her bow and her arms strained and drew back the string, they flared into an animosity-ridden, effulgent green the colour of jade. It was startling to witness.
A human soldier stumbled and skidded to a halt beside Brekkr and groaned sickly.
He had an arrow impaling his thigh, fired by the angel. The skin broiled and festered grotesquely, the arrow corroding and treating the wound so as to prevent it from going septic. The man would still be immobilised in pain for a long while.
This particular angel's evident reluctance to kill did not reassure Brekkr. This angel was deadly accurate, and despite the fact that the soldier wouldn't die, his ordeal didn't look like nice wholesome fun.
Brekkr ran, glancing back briefly. The angel had notched an arrow and drew it back. Her peridot eyes meeting Brekkr's.
Bloody hell.
The arrow flew.
 
For the first time in millennia, war, death and nature convened.
Hades' inverted eyes regarded Verda and Eris with anxiety. Normally most deities detested him on account of his fiefdom.
What they failed to acknowledge was death's imperative part in The Balance. Hades was, in actuality, a mellow, mild mannered god. He was often represented by the grim reaper by most humans, but Hades had fired that jerk a long time ago.
"Well, Verda." He murmured. "It's in both our best interests to prevent this conflict."
"My people are torn." Replied Verda. "The ecosystem has descended into chaos." Her fingers were clasped tightly around her scythe.
"It seems we are both affected. I needn't more souls to deal with." Responded Hades. "I am fighting to rein in the corporeal forces, but they are chaotic beings. Who knows where their loyalties truly lie."
Eris responded to piercing glares from the other divinities with a sly smirk. "As much as I TRULY enjoy all this entertaining war, I'm not to be held accountable for this. Something else is pulling the strings. Something alien, malignant." She flashed a smile at Hades, and her eyes reminded him about all the qualities he hated in people, kindling a lust to punch Verda in the face. "This war entertaining, but unnatural nonetheless."
There was clear animosity between all three deities as palpable silence fell.
 
Ryner saw the battle ready beasts and angels and began to charge at them in which his entire unit followed suit. As they clashed you could hear the roar of battle begin Ryner began tearing through the battle leaving a wake of beast and angel corpses
 
A voice rang and echoed in Ryner's head. The voice of Artios. She asked him calmly, even serenely, in a sweet voice, "Why do you wear my mark, the mark of the bear, mortal?" Her voice echoed and shimmered in his head. So...sweet. So...comfortable. Almost as if you could lie back, and let it envolope you... Such was the voices of the Gods.
 
Much to Lydia's dismay, her arrow was intercepted.
It began to degrade at the culmination of its mighty arc. At first it was gradual, then as the decay gained traction the arrow receded into a cloud of wood fibre. Soon their was but a shard of flint, and it too corroded.
Lydia cursed, pivoting to spot the perpetrator of these magicks.
She spotted his fist as it rammed into her jaw. She felt the skin flake and shrivel beneath the impact. Her angelic blood fought to restore it. In the reflection of an arrow that she swiftly drew, she noticed a marring grey had crept over her jaw. It was quickly being suppressed by her healing abilities. She felt her nerve endings re-establish connections to the region. It was numb and somewhat aching.
Decay.
She was swift to whirl on her heels and fire at the inflictor. None other than Aposys, god of necrosis.
The deity, taking the form of a boy in his early twenties with ecstatic violet eyes and black robes, emanated a mischievous, carefree atmosphere that gained him intense dislike in Lydia's eyes.
He extended his hand and caught the arrow, the organic matter of the wood and fletching eroding promptly. He tossed the flint head, rendered obsolete, to the charred, mutilated battlefield. "Ah, Lydia. Ascensis' lapdog. What a delight to see you."
 
Ryner heard the voice and replied in his head. "I wear your mark as a reminder of who I am. I am strong and ferocious like the bear but also kind and caring like the bear." He continued to drop angels beasts alike if they stood in his way. "Now goddess may I ask you a question. What's the point in fighting in a meaningless war."
 
A voice intrudes on your mind conversation. "I would ask the same question, mortal fool." It has an air of regality and superiority.
 
Artios exploded with anger. Her voice was no longer comfortable or sweet, it was hot, and fiery, like magma boring into his brain. "YOU ARE A MISTAKE MORTAL, AND YOU ARE A FOOL! I AM ONE OF THE FEW TRULY MIGHTY GODS THAT HAVE ALWAYS OPPOSED YOU, AND NOW, YOU WILL PERISH AS A RACE!" She roared in his brain at extreme volume. She concentrated, and the bear mark on his gauntlets faded away. "You have no right. You are not like the Bear. You are a filthy, hairless SLUG"
 
"Indeed, I could not have worded it in a superior way myself, Artio. Now I have somewhat of a diminutive respect for you." Muses the intruder. Ryner is yet to identify it, but Artio is sure it is Ascensis, god of the sky.

(Just for future reference, before you perform any particularly godly feats, if you are a deity, you might have to check through with me. You may question the viability of your actions in brackets on its own message)
 
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Thäkra slowly approached the town, leaving in her wake a trail of footsteps where the wildlife is dead and gone. A gentle smoke rises from chimneys as the battle rages on in the distance. Silence envelops the village. A smile rose to the goddess's face. She spoke in a soft, calm voice, her large white wings looking delicate. Emotion filled her emerald eyes.
"Quick, you should come with me, the battle is edging closer to this village," her voice rung across the village, yet in a sweet, silent voice. "I know I appear like a god to you, but I promise, I all I want to do is help..." She added softly. She stayed still for a while. Slowly a door started to creak open. "Thank you, thank you. Please, come everyone. What is your name."
"R-Rue, my lady," she said shakily.
"Well Rue... Your going to DIE!" Her voice snarled into a roar and flames engulfed Thäkra's body. Plumes of smoke clouded the town as seven of her soldiers erupted from the ground, and the women and children screamed. It was over in minutes, leaving desolated ruins. "Collect the heads," she snapped to her soldiers, who quickly did her bidding.
 
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An incandescent rondure slammed into Thäkra, showering brilliance over the town. No real impact was made, but Thäkra feels her life force consumed ever so slightly, her chaotic presence fading marginally. The scintillant corona fades, and there stands a girl of six with eyes the colour of cocoa staring up at Thäkra. She lacks malice, despite her vicious strike, and her face is destitute of emotion. It may have been aesthetically upsetting, but it brought ease to Thäkra's frantic, turmoiled heart. She wears a simple, unadorned white gown, and a dove sits on her shoulder with a flower bouquet.
Harmonyd, goddess of serenity. "Cease this chaos, sister."
 
Ryner continued to fight until he stood atop a pile of corpses. As he looked around all he saw was death and crying widows. He looked down at the ground." Just as I predicted just more meaningless violence." He slowly thought for a second and tried to reach the goddess. "Why do you detest us humans so much."
 
"Your view is very one sided." Responds Ascensis in a very blasé attitude. "Incredibly biased. You were made in our image, and as such you were made to be perfect. Intitially we were very satisfied. But sometimes, Haephestos's creations can be faulty. You challenged us to escape your fate, do not forget that. This is the one logical option."
 
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