The Cycle

[Lighthawk]

The goddess of the elves gave a delicate roll of her wrist, prompting the holy couple to proceed as they would. The pair bowed and turned, beckoning with some small irritation at those still recovering to hurry at their assigned tasks. Eventually order in the proceedings fell into place, and two groups were ushered before the roots of The Old Giant. One group fell immediately to their knees, heads bowed. The other was forced to kneel by the sizable and well armed elven guards about them.

The first group was comprised of elves, a half dozen male and female each, and every one of them a figure of idealized physical beauty. They were devoid of clothing, to better show off the perfect form of their limbs and body. Their flesh gleamed, flawless and free of any dirt or grim. Their hair shone, and was bound up in intricate patterns. They were the absolute best of elven breeding.

The other group was a mismash of random beings, slaves gathered in war and raids. A trio of humans, male and two females. A pair of orc, both female. A wood nymph, and a male troll. They too had been freed of their garb, but no other care given them, and they seemed misshapen and deformed compared to the perfection of the elves, save for the nymph who despite the dirt in her hair and grim on her skin, still seemed only slightly lessened.

The priest and priestess turned to their goddess, to see how she might accept this gifts, and in what capacity.

(I'll leave this one open. Choose how and in what way to accept your gifts.)

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The Obelisk shone suddenly, like steel fresh from the forge, and the light that fell on the city blotted out even the fury of the lightning above. All at once, the city was cleansed of those in doubt, their bodies engulfed by sudden flame. They burned slowly, and the flames ate away at their flesh without robbing them of breath or of life until nothing remained by ash. The screams echoed through the streets as the damned writhed and flailed, and their throes of agony only fed the flames that consumed them.

When at last the screams ended and the flames died, the city fell into utter silence. Every face was pressed to the ground, or stared lifelessly into the sky. Even the Council had fallen still, and feared to speak even to offer praise or promises of loyalty. They waited with held breath as they felt the souls of the deceased stir, and the will of their god reached for the newly freed spirits.

(What shall you do with the souls of the slain? Same choices that Tyyr had)

[Tyyr]

The goddess looks over the offering. Her lips curl in disgust at the sight of the human males and the troll. She stabs a finger at them and snarls. "Bring such disgusting things before me again and you all will suffer." Her eyes dart to the elven males and she dismisses them casually, uninterested. For the remaining gifts she gestures towards the foot of her throne.

[Lighthawk]

The rejects were ushered from sight so quickly they all but vanish into thin air. The accepted were herded forward to kneel again at the goddess's feet, save for the elves who hurried forward as quickly as they could without letting it be seen that they were doing so. The pair of orc and humans were shoved along with ungentle prods of the butt ends of the guard's spears.

The nymph as well was herded forward the first dozen feet, then suddenly her pace quickened as a brief flash of determined anger came over her features, too quickly suppressed under a neutral mask for any but the goddess herself to catch. Her shuffling steps became instantly graceful and light, and her entire bearing changed. Between one step and the next she transformed, a wilted flower blooming into a vibrant tree. The dirt upon her skin was no longer a marring of her beauty but a part of it, and she walked as if her lack of garb was a matter beneath her notice.

She practically shoved her way into the middle of kneeling elves, her sudden manner opening a space between the startled women as they drew back from her before rational thought could reassert control. The nymph knelt, and the motion somehow combined both willing deference and fiery rebellion.

(Still leaving it open for now, to see what you have in mind for them.)

[Tyyr]

The goddess smirked at the nymph's defiance, amused that the little creature could burn with such anger before someone like her. She gestured the nymph to her feet and waved the remainder to sit around her. She idly considered each of them, conjolling them to where she wanted each of the, decorating the area around her throne with their naked bodies before waving her hand and making a black metallic collar appear around each of their necks though the nymph's was decorated with a blood red gem in the center.

[Lighthawk]

As one the offerings jumped at the sudden sensation of cool metal about their throats, particularly the two humans, both of which had tear tracks upon their cheeks. The orcs fussed about the collars a moment, then seemed to decide that if they ignored the metal loops they might well vanish on their own.

The elves all but preened at the honor of being marked as property of their goddess, and their joyous mood was only slightly tampered by the slight under current of jealousy directed towards the nymph and her extra decoration. The woodland fey herself, after recovering from the surprise of the moment, ignored the elves utterly. She ran a finger idly over her collar, especially across the gleaming gem stone.

After several minutes of letting the goddess play with her new decorations, the high priest politely, and reverently, cleared his throat softly and took a half step forward. He bowed low and did not rise as he spoke.

"My divine ladyship...if you will allow it, there are matters of importance that we plead your guidance on."

(Will you
A: Get down to business and begin to rule your people
B: Tell the priest to bring the matters to you later, you're busy.
C: Tell him to handle it himself)