Common, Draconic, Dwarven, Elvish, Gnomish, Goblinoid, Orcish, Sylvan

Are only available to an Alcanti in his fortress.

Second Skin Armour is the name people use to describe a strange and mysterious magical artefact, very rare and very precious--only a scant handful have ever been discovered…

The Alcanti call it the Symbiont and know it is one of their greatest strengths and greatest vulnerabilities; an integral component of their operation, it provides the power for day-to-day functioning and for repair in the event an Alcanti is damaged. It has 50 hp, and--for good or ill--absorbs the first 50 hp of damage delivered to its wearer; damage above 50 usually, but not always, kills it. It appears black to mortal eyes, but it's not…if a thin film is spread out in bright light it becomes apparent that it's a very dark green due to the chlorophyll it contains. It must receive several hours of sunlight (or Continual Light containing the same full spectra as sunlight) nearly every day to stay healthy, and thereby useable. When an Alcanti wears this organic construct it transfers energy to him; in return it draws nutrients (predominantly nitrogen, phosphate, and potassium) and water from him in obligate mutualism.

Just like organic people, Alcanti need to drink fresh water every day (or as close to that optimum as they can get). They can take in nitrogen from the air (while they don't precisely breathe, in the way that people do, they have a respiratory system to permit normal speech including lung analogs where gas absorption takes place) and every one to two months they need to consume potash and apatite or guano (most Alcanti prefer the mineral forms to guano, but actually guano serves the same essential purpose, and provides all three necessary nutrients).

When a Symbiont is touched by an Alcanti, or certain organic races, it flows up to completely cover his body. The wearer has to push the Symbiont back from those places he doesn't want covered, usually the head and hands, although some allow it to flow up and form a cowl leaving only the face exposed. The Symbiont itself will not cover the soles of the feet or wherever it will be subjected to constant abrasion, or where the hair covering is so thick it can not feed. It can be trained to conform to the preferences of its customary wearer; after three or four wearings with the same configuration, it will flow to the limits previously set and no further. It will not attach itself to scaled or furred creatures, but the relatively sparse hair on humans, elves, and dwarves does not impede its feeding; it will accept them as hosts.

Each day an Alcanti does not wear his Symbiont he loses 1 hp. When he is reduced to 0 hp, he stops functioning; he doesn't die, and can be revived if some external force places a Symbiont on his body, but he is completely defenceless and very easy to kill. If a healthy Symbiont is placed on an Alcanti that has "powered off" it will take him 2 days to revive; he must have acquired 10 hp before active operation can be restored. He will have no memory of anything that occurred while he was unpowered. If an Alcanti has been injured, a healthy Symbiont can restore 5 hp/day as well.

Unlike the Alcanti, Symbionts can, and must, reproduce; they only have a lifespan of between 750 and 1000 years. Once every 100 to 200 years a Symbiont will start to writhe, putting out small, spiky protrusions. In time one of these will grow until it's about a foot long, thicken into a rounded (sausage-like) shape, and then the base where it connects to its "mother" will start to constrict until the bud has completely detached. The baby Symbiont must be carefully nurtured; the easiest way to do this is to allow it to attach to the same host as its parent. The parent will flow to allow the bud access to nutrients and sunlight. When it reaches about half its mature size, it can be removed and wearing can be alternated. The immature Symbiont will flow to cover the host, but it's thin and has only half the hp of a mature specimen.

An Alcanti does not--can not--sleep, but he is organic enough that he does tire. Every time he uses his powers, fights for five minutes, or engages in vigorous exertion for ten minutes, he loses one fatigue point. When he is reduced to zero he can do absolutely nothing until he has rested, not even walk or raise a weapon in self-defence. It takes two minutes of complete rest to recover one fatigue point. Any activity, even something as non-strenuous as walking, doubles the time needed. If an Alcanti is injured he tires more quickly and takes longer to recover. If he is between 25 and 50% down, he loses two fatigue points every time he uses his powers, fights for five minutes, or engages in vigorous exertion for ten minutes, and needs three minutes to recover one point, between 51 and 75% down, he loses three fatigue points every time he uses his powers, fights for five minutes, or engages in vigorous exertion for ten minutes, and needs four minutes to recover one point, between 76 and 100% down, he loses three fatigue points every time he uses his powers, fights for five minutes, or engages in vigorous exertion for ten minutes, and needs four minutes to recover one point.

• Alchemy: Intelligence -1 (2)
  

Alcanti are well-versed in all aspects of laboratory technique, scientific method, the proper way to conduct experiments, and the properties of various chemicals, reagents, and substances. If they have access to their laboratories, they can use their knowledge to identify unknown elements or compounds, create small doses of acids, incendiaries, or pyrotechnical substances, or brew certain potions.

Identifying substances or samples of unknown material requires 1 to 4 days and a successful proficiency check. Simple materials, such as powdered metals or ores, provide the alchemist with a +1 to +4 bonus on his check, at the DM’s discretion. Rare, complex, or damaged or incomplete samples might impose a –1 to –4 penalty.

Other than oil of vitriol, Alcanti must pass a proficiency check in order to successfully manufacture a substance; creating dangerous substances such as acids or burning powders takes, on average, 1d3 days and (1d4+1) x 10 gp per vial, or 2--7 (1d6+1) days and (4d4+4) x 10 gp per flask, modified by the substance (for example, producing glacial acetic acid is obviously going to take considerably longer and be more expensive and risky than making simple vinegar; if they want to make fluoroantimonic acid they can probably do it, but that would be--or was--a lengthy quest in and of itself, first obtaining the magical or blessed vessels to contain it, then gathering the materials for each step and passing literally dozens of proficiency checks). Failing a proficiency check with a natural roll of 20 might result in an explosion or other mishap that exposes the Alcanti, or anyone else in the immediate area, to the effects of both the blast and the substance, and damages the laboratory for up to 10%–60% or 1d6 x 10% of its construction value, again depending on the substance being made. If he was making carbolic acid, he'd probably have to do some repainting…

When used as a weapon, acid damage is variable, depending on the acid and its concentration, and will be arbitrated on a case-by-case basis. It is apt to be considerably greater than the value given in the PHB.

Incendiaries ignite when exposed to air. A flask of incendiary liquid inflicts damage no less than that of burning oil (2d6 points in the first round and 1d6 in the second.) Incendiary powders or liquids can easily start fires if used on buildings, dry brush, or other such surfaces.

Pyrotechnic materials resemble incendiaries, but create clouds of billowing smoke. A vial creates a cloud of smoke 5 feet high by 5 feet wide by 5 feet deep, obscuring vision. A flask creates a cloud of smoke 10 feet high by 10 feet wide by 10 feet deep. The clouds persist for 1d3 rounds, depending on the wind and other conditions.

The night sky as seen from the continent of Tamaranth is a brilliant and beautiful thing, crowded with stars in a hundred constellations, and jewelled with seven moons and five planets.

The major moons are Candra, the largest moon, and Lixue, only slightly smaller but far enough out that it appears to be only two-thirds the size. Its orbit is permanently 45º ahead of and above Candra. The minor moons are Nuala, Ophira, Malana, Kyros and Halle. Of the seven moons, the five minor moons are small enough that their effect on tides is negligible. Together the two major moons have an effect similar to Luna on Terra insofar as the length of day and other rotational effects are concerned, but the tides differ a little in that all areas experience a mixed semidiurnal tide cycle, with Lixue acting as an intensifier.

The planets of Tamarsphere are Iliana, rocky planet closer to the sun than Tamaranth; Marnin, a rocky planet further from the sun than Tamaranth, ice covered and very bright; next out is Morathi, a medium sized gas giant; then Esus, the largest gas giant in the sphere; and Tethra, the gas giant furthest out, midway in size between Morathi and Esus.

Called at various times the Doomstane, the Deathstar, or simply THE Comet--distinct from any other comet or celestial body--a recurrent comet poses the greatest threat that Tamaranth faces. It was the impetus behind the development of astronomy; the calendar was created to mark and calculate its passage. Legends--or perhaps historical, eyewitness accounts--consistently speak of hideous death that follows wherever its shadow falls upon the planet (and no other, lesser comet casts a shadow…) These legends are remarkably consistent, no matter their origin, whether human, dwarven, elvish, gnomish, orcish, or draconic. It returns every 2,510 years, and with each pass has posed an increasingly dire menace to every living thing on the planet.

The first appearance recorded by mortals occurred 7,528 years ago, and resulted in the creation of the calendar, but the gods had marked its passage long before. The Alcanti were created 12,543 years ago (five years after the comet's fourth return), in part to command (or, more accurately, to police and act as mediators between) the organic races--humans, dwarves, elves, gnomes, orcs, goblins, hobgoblins, gnolls, dragons, etc--but their primary purpose, the Divine Trust that was central to their being, was to stand between and protect mortals from…

At the same time organic life was evolving on Tamaranth, far out in the roughly spherical cloud of icy planetesimals that spin and dance in the Everflowing nearly a light-year from the Sun, on the body that would become known as the Doomstane, another, far different, creation was developing. The dwarf planet was a giant in that region of space; it had drawn all its neighbours to itself, accreting so much mass that it reached hydrostatic equilibrium, forming a sphere nearly 250 miles in diameter. On this world, ice around a core of rock and metal, bathed and bombarded by raw dweomer, life--the quintessence of magicka--began. From simple, minute creatures they progressed to colonies, and then into complex organisms, capable of metabolism, growth, and true reproduction. More aeons passed, and they became increasingly responsive to stimuli. In the fierce competition of their resource poor environment, some creatures developed motility. Step by step, mutation after mutation, the apex of that peculiar genesis acquired intelligence, but in structure they were little changed from their remote ancestors. They were black in all spectra, to soak up every possible scintilla of energy--dweometric, electromagnetic, chemical, thermal, gravitational, and nuclear--and they were nearly two dimensional, sometimes covering very large areas, but infinitesimally flat, presenting the greatest possible surface area for energy absorption. There was no food chain--each individual absorbed energy from any and all available sources and drew the nutrients for metabolism from the dirty snowball that was their home--with the result that every successful adaptation supplanted its progenitor, each in turn spreading out across the surface of their world.

This stable existence changed when a star passed through that region of space; too far away to draw the world into its orbit, but close enough to cause gravitational perturbations that sent it plummeting toward distant Tamar. At first the inhabitants, sapient but extremely primitive, were unaware of what had befallen them. Generations passed in the same fierce competition for energy and resources they had always known…until they travelled through the Crystal Sphere, some 40 AUs from the star, and the Everflowing, their primary food source, was abruptly and radically curtailed. So far out the solar radiance was woefully insufficient to compensate, as were the gravitational forces of the outer planets, yet worse was to come. Solar radiation caused the volatile materials that comprised the bulk of the comet's mass to vaporize and stream out of the nucleus, carrying dust away with them, in a coma that, at closest approach, stretched out from the sun past rocky Marnin and beyond, and in that first pass it lost nearly 10% of its total mass, most of it in the form of precious, life-sustaining water, carbon dioxide, methane and ammonia ice. In the year and a half that the comet remained in the solar system, 90% of the population died off, but the few individuals that survived were the fittest, the most adaptable, and the most ruthless ever seen since their peculiar form of life had evolved.

The gods--that is Yeron, Araul, Venall, Urth, Ghorail, Shalniel, Miroch, Ylwain, Fellbane, Gye and Kirmmaw, for Valverus had abandoned the world he'd helped shape over 150,000 years before--had been surprised to discern that intelligent life existed in so unlikely a place, but saw no reason to intervene--species evolve, mature, and become extinct regularly in the universe, and they knew this particular form was inimical to their creation--but they watched, and pondered possible outcomes.

By the second pass the Shadow had become a single entity, the culmination of ruthless self-preservation. It still appeared to be composed of individuals, but they were all linked in a vast hive mind. It had learned to look outward, sending its senses ranging far and wide, and discovered the planets, huge spheres in stable, almost circular orbits around a reliable food source. The gas giants were not to its taste: dweomer and solar poor, with a gravity that made them dangerous even to Shadow. Marnin, far larger than its home, with a comfortable gravity, rich in essential ice, and bathed in light from a star a mere two AUs away, was highly appealing…until it passed Tamaranth. Soaked in solar radiance and rich in dweomer from some unknown source, with oceans of volatiles, it was paradise! It looked no further, but right then began planning to conquer this perfect new world. That it teemed with life already was considered an advantage, facilitating the assimilation of valuable nutrients. Evolution on the comet had never rewarded the concepts of cooperation, compromise, or community; by this point such ideas were literally unthinkable, as meaningless as music to a species without organs of hearing.

By the third pass, the Shadow was ready to make its move. It sent out appendages to cross the space between the comet and Tamaranth--and met the force of the gods. They were not then prepared to destroy the Shadow--although in the subsequent millennia they came to regret their forbearance--but they gave it no purchase on Tamaranth, driving it back onto its own planet. The Shadow was enraged; in its estimation, it was the summit of creation. How dare any entity stand in its way?! Howling vengeance and continued resolve, it continued trying until it passed out of range, travelling back from whence it came. By this time the comet was 15% smaller than when it had first formed.

The Shadow spent the intervening years perfecting it magics, and planning its next attack. It devised a way to (it believed) absorb the powerful dweomer-fuelled barrier that had blocked it before, and go forth and conquer just that much stronger. It was partially successful. On the next pass, its fourth, it cut a wide swath of destruction across the face of Tamaranth before it was turned back, and those remnants that made planetfall caused further havoc before they could be destroyed, for direct, physical manifestations of deific presence on a planetary surface is fraught with danger to the ecological balance, even to the structure of the world itself, and that living, vibrant world was the very thing the gods were striving to preserve. The races of men, and other sapient creatures, had evolved into their present forms by then, but primitive; civilisation was still in its infancy. It would be many years before there would be priests with the wisdom, knowledge, and experience to channel their grace, so they resolved to make representatives that were both greater and lesser than the organic races, with powers both enormous and limited--enormous, to effectively fight against the increasingly powerful Shadow; limited, to prevent them from setting themselves against the gods and subjugating mortals: the Alcanti, five-thousand strong, imbued with enormous intellect and formidable magicka, fired with zeal to uphold the Divine Trust.

Although the Shadow was stronger, more devious, and more determined than ever, 2510 years later both the gods and their Alcanti were ready. The comet completed its fifth transit with minimal loss of life on Tamaranth; the gods destroyed or turned back most of every wave, and the depleted vanguard that attempted to establish a presence on the planet were met by the Alcanti and handily defeated. Moreover this orbit had resulted in the vaporisation of a further 5% of the cometary volatiles, and fracture lines were beginning to form. The gods knew well that most long period comets live for only a short time, making no more than half a dozen orbits before breaking up or encountering gravitational stresses that fling them into hyperbolic orbits and out of the solar system never to return. The Shadow comet was much larger than average, but still subject to those same pressures. By their calculations, it could not survive for more than another 12,550 years (five orbits) at most, possibly as few as 7,530 years (three orbits) and what was that in the lifetime of a god, or a world? They were cautiously confident that all would be well.

Contributing to that optimism was the inadvertent capture of a fragment of Shadow. It was not organised enough to retain the horrific sentience of the whole, but it was sufficient for experimentation--in effect, it was a tissue sample. From it the gods and some of the Alcanti learned that it drew no nourishment from certain types of stone, that a force cage would contain it, and that it was vulnerable to the direct application of fire, provided it was hot enough. With each pass the Shadow had grown more intelligent, more organised, more determined, and more powerful. It seemed poor strategy to allow it 2500 years between passes to refine and perfect its assaults against Tamaranth.

From these seeds a plan--the Plan--was born. With the full approval of the Gods, and directed by them, the Alcanti tasked with guarding the southern hemisphere cleared an island near the south pole, far from all living things, of all volatiles--anything consumable--and prepared a barrier. They intended to channel the gods' power to form a pen to contain the Shadow, and there incinerate it, destroying it forever. Those involved in that enormous project called themselves the Free Men, for the one area where Alcanti have no free will is in the battle against the Shadow. They were created to fight it, and when it threatens Tamaranth, can do nothing else. Those practical dreamers stepped out on faith, believing that the day was coming when the threat of Shadow would be ended forever.

Everything was in readiness. Almost a full turn had been spent in preparation; the culmination of that mighty effort was at hand. The Free Men were eager for the confrontation with the Shadow--what, in faith, in confidence, or in hubris, they thought of as 'The Final Confrontation'--sure of victory, and dreaming of the day when all Alcanti would be Free Men in truth.

Twenty years before the next pass was due, the gods told them, "No," flatly and implacably, ordering the termination of the Plan. The Free Men heard, but did not, or could not, understand. Not the order--that was starkly plain--but why? They asked themselves what they had done, or failed to do. At first they were stunned, disbelieving, sure it was a misunderstanding or correctable error, but it was no mistake, and their confusion became anger and defiance…rebelliousness. They felt hurt and betrayed, and believed the gods had judged them inadequate to their purpose. Instead of submitting to their will, they were determined to prove them wrong. Not to turn against them--never that--but disobedient. And proud. The gods would see, see that they were fit and ready for the challenge, and support them. It would work; it had to work.

However, before they could enact their insurrection they were attacked by the Alcanti who were not part of the plan. A second betrayal; Rincar, the red dragon they had trusted implicitly who had been in on the Plan almost from the beginning, had gone to those unaware of what had been happening. To save himself from any accusations of complicity and to curry favour, or perhaps just out of spite and greed, seeing in strife opportunities for personal gain, he divulged their plans in the most damning ways possible, embellished with lies and lurid impossibilities, and thus the time for talk, for common ground, even for agreeing to disagree and stay out of each other's way, passed before it could begin; overnight brothers became bitter enemies. The gods alone know who struck the first blow; the Loyalists claimed the Free Men attacked, the Free Men blamed the Loyalists, and all the witnesses were dead. For fifteen bitter years they fought each other in an escalating spiral of destruction, hatred begetting hatred, vengeance begetting vengeance. Even mortals were drawn into the fray, some as combatants, fighting desperately for home and family, more as collateral damage…and then the Shadow returned, unleashing inconceivable horror and havoc.

Only then, when they were fighting the Shadow on the ground, did understanding come, and with it shame and penitence. With the methods that had been devised the Free Men could have contained and conquered the Shadow as it had been on the previous pass; what they actually faced was orders of magnitude stronger. The Gods themselves didn't realise just how strong until it was so close, only twenty years out, and had aborted the Plan as soon as they knew. The Alcanti, who are essentially unchanging, didn't believe until they saw with their own eyes. The casualties–-animal and plant–-mounted to horrific levels, and the battle continued for nearly fifty years before all vestiges of the Shadow had been destroyed.

The Burning Times had indelibly scarred–-and justifiably terrified-–the sapient races, but at the same time science, technology and innovation had taken enormous leaps forward. In some cases aided by the gods, but more often independently, they made discovery after discovery, particularly in the areas of astronomy, mathematics, medicine, and metallurgy. They mapped the night sky, and created a calendar to track the comet and predict its next coming; to treat the injured, medicine advanced from shamanism to empirical science–not perfect, or perfectly understood, by any means, but the foundations were solidly laid--and weapons changed from wood and stone to well-forged bronze seemingly overnight. They also made great progress in mastering the mental discipline necessary to channel the grace of the gods and to understand the nature of arcane spellcasting.

However, consequent to the civil war, conflated as it was with the unspeakable destruction wrought by the Shadow, all the surviving Alcanti completely lost their effectiveness in their role as judges and arbiters between the organic races–mortals fled at the very sight of them. Moreover, the war between the Free Men and the Butchers (or, as they called themselves, the Loyalists, branding the Free Men as Apostates) continued with no diminution of hatred and implacability, although with somewhat lessened intensity as they withdrew into their individual lairs, hardening their defences, and perfecting their strategies for the next cometary pass. Of the original 5,000 Alcanti, 4,893 had been alive at the start of the rebellion. By the time the last appendage of Shadow had been eradicated from the face of Tamaranth, only 2,350 Alcanti survived; 1,363 Butchers (or Loyalists), 987 Free Men (or Apostates). Of the 2,543 who died, most had been slain not by god, Shadow, or puny mortal, but by each other. The two factions still tried to kill each other off at every opportunity, but over the years they became increasingly wily and elusive; casualties were low, while actual fatalities were mostly a matter of luck on the part of the assailant and carelessness (or overconfidence) by the victim. To the mortal races they became the stuff of myth and legend.

Tensions built in the two years leading up to the pass of -3025. Closest approach would be on the outward leg of the orbit. Battle lines had long been drawn, and both sides waited in tense anticipation. However, as the comet was circling around the sun, a pocket of volatiles deep within the core vaporised and exploded outward, cutting a deep gouge through the body of the planetoid and carrying with it not only the precious, life-sustaining ices but fully one-third of the Shadow itself. Badly weakened yet as desperate as a cornered animal, it frantically threw itself at Tamaranth in wave after wave, but it lacked the science and strategy of its sixth attempt at conquest: too much of its "brain" had been boiled away, and its organisational structure had been shattered. Most broke on the gods' stalwart barrier, and the remnant that got through succumbed to mortal spells both divine and arcane, not Alcanti. There was more damage than there had been on the fifth transit, but only a tithe of what the world had suffered during the Burning Times. The people of Tamaranth rejoiced, the Shadow whimpered as it was carried back to the endless night…and the Alcanti still waited.

Before the comet's sixth passage most people had been semi-nomadic, following the wild herds during clement weather, hunting and gathering, and staying in winter encampments throughout the cold seasons; agriculture was in its infancy, for on generous Tamaranth, the intensive cultivation of food wasn't necessary. The Burning Times changed these ancient practices forever. Vast swathes of forest and grassland–hundreds of miles in all directions–had been reduced to scorched earth, as sterile as if baked in a kiln, and all the myriad creatures the vegetation had supported were gone, destroyed or scattered. The lands would be long recovering, and suddenly it became a challenge to secure enough nourishment to survive. Moreover, during the fearsome days when Shadow stalked the earth, many of the small bands of herders and hunters had formed alliances, for together a few might survive an assault, but if attacked singly, each group in turn would perish; in this harshest of all schools, they learned the advantages of community. Once the threat of Shadow had been eliminated (for a while), these remnants formed permanent settlements, and agriculture became the primary occupation. Great strides were made in the production of crops and the domestication of animals, sufficient to feed an ever-growing population, which led to the need for laws and judges, lawmakers, administrators, and enforcers, and thus was politics born.

Despite the casualties and destruction of the seventh cometary passage (the second recorded by mortals), these advances were not lost, and the civilisations of men flourished over the next twenty-five hundred years, the Golden Age of Tamaranth. The towns began to grow into cities, many of great size and beauty, becoming centres of commerce and scholarship. Knowledge was in full flower. From the simple concepts of number, magnitude, and form that had sufficed before the Burning Times, they developed sophisticated mathematics, including an advanced understanding of algebra, geometry, metrology, and analysis, and all the sciences that derived from applied mathematics: probability and statistics, surveying, optics, architecture, navigation, mechanics…and, as always, astronomy. Metallurgy progressed from bronze to the creation of high-carbon steel alloys unequalled to the present day; the blades and armours produced from those legendary steels all bore distinctive patterns of banding and mottling reminiscent of flowing water. From the crude, utilitarian clay pots of yore, pottery advanced until it had perfected exquisite porcelain and brilliant glazes. Alchemists and herbalists unlocked the secrets of minerals and plants, and in the process mastered the arts of fermentation and distillation. Nor were they backward in literature, philosophy, and the fine arts, but the pinnacle of their accomplishments was in the fusion of mathematics and science, logic, lore, and longing, into arcane magicka, equalled only by their devotion to and understanding of the gods.

Such was the world when the comet made its eighth pass. Under the spur of desperation the Shadow had also made advances, patching the fissures in its disintegrating world as much as it could, but devoting the greater part of its time and energy into shaping itself into a terrifying enemy armed with alien but prodigiously effective magic. The Alcanti had been making preparations as well. In -515, 2,342 Alcanti still survived; the 1,360 who had never questioned the gods persisted in vilifying and slaughtering at every opportunity the 982 remaining Free Men. They were tired, so desperately tired, of the persecution and resolved to try one last time to divert the Shadow to the island that they had restored to a holding pen. When the comet made its closest approach to Tamaranth and the waves of Shadow surged out to try, yet again, to establish a beachhead, the Free Men tried to finally implement the Plan, hoping to end the Shadow, and perhaps the conflict, once and for all. They failed spectacularly, merely forcing breaks in the Divine Barrier. Fully a quarter of the pseudopodia made planetfall before the breaches were sealed and hardened, preventing any further incursions, but what came through was devastating: the Burning Times had returned. Civilisations crumbled to blackened dust beneath that ebon bane, and the death toll mounted to astronomical numbers. But the war was not one-sided. Mortals and Alcanti fought with telling skill and strength, scything down the enemy much faster than it could replicate, while the gods held shields around it, starving it of dweomer. Slowly the toehold it had gained was eroded. The gods, Alcanti, and mortals of Tamaranth finally won, although it took nearly a hundred years before every last remnant was vanquished…and looked around at a world in ruins. Nearly half the sentient mortal population was dead, and the losses of other species, both plant and animal, were incalculable; some had been driven to extinction. The destruction of the works of men was heartbreaking too, especially the eradication of precious knowledge. Of the Alcanti, only 947 remained. Of the Free Men, all 600 who had tried to divert the Shadow had perished, caught in that deadly cross-fire. The rest had seen the futility of the attempt and had not participated. It fell to them to try and defeat the Shadow in the southern hemisphere, left woefully unguarded with so many of the original defenders slain. The Butchers' (Loyalist's) losses were slower but higher; between -515 and -418, 795 Alcanti were destroyed fighting the Shadow on the continent of Tamaranth and in the surrounding areas.

Only Shadow magicka had kept the comet intact; it was less than half its original size, and running out of precious volatiles. One more pass would finish it…one way or the other…

• Insanity. n. mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality…
• Megalomania. n. A delusional state where someone believes that he is superior to others. He may believe himself to be a god…
  

But what if he really is a god?
Then, while he is still very ill, he is also unthinkably dangerous…

Valverus was just such a being, obsessively preoccupied with personal adequacy, power, prestige and vanity, and wholly unable to see the destructive damage he caused to himself and to others.

At the end of the last galactic cycle, as all matter and energy converged upon itself, twelve once-mortal beings of vast power and learning devised a method they hoped would allow them to step outside the rapidly imploding universe; together they formed a force cage, a dodecahedron able to resist gravity, entropy, and the ravages of time itself. They were each responsible for one face of the structure, and if one facet failed, they all would fail, sending them plummeting into the tiny ball of darkness more intense than the brightest light had ever been. They held on grimly, though the battle taxed them, each and all, to the limits of their strength and endurance, millennia after grim millennia, until the stresses within the black hole singularity triggered an explosion, and the outward expansion of the universe began again.

They, as they jubilantly told themselves, were the luckiest people who had ever lived! They'd survived the Big Crunch and now rode the energy of the Big Bang outward, their force cage converted into a craft that protected them from the rushing, surging energy and dweomer, surrounded by the indescribable beauty of the birth of stars…and of gods. They watched in fascination as the universe matured, and suns and solar systems formed. Those main-sequence stars between 5000 and 6200 K in temperature and around two nonillion kilograms in weight almost always formed a crystal sphere outside their most distant planets; they were amazed to discover that it was much like the wall of an ovum, controlling the turbulent, and--in excess--destructive, flood of dweomer, and allowing embryonic gods to develop. They decided to try their hands at being gods and set off in search of a star that fit the parameters for life as they had once known it, but lacked a crystal sphere and the developing gods such a structure signalled. It was then that Valverus first showed signs of the illness that would later claim him. He jovially thanked the others for their "help" in creating and sustaining the dodecahedron, taking for himself credit for an enterprise that was, by its very nature, wholly cooperative, and spoke with keen anticipation of founding a pantheon. The others were troubled, but took no action beyond correcting his conceit, and Valverus seemed to let the matter drop.

Eventually they found a solar system that fit their criteria and built their own crystal sphere around it, an artificial construct but identical in all particulars to the natural formation, and then began settling into their new home. The planets and moons had already formed, although accretion and changes in composition were still going on due to heavy bombardment from remaining debris. They nudged the planet that would eventually be known as Tamaranth more securely into the zone of habitability…and again ran square into Valverus, who decreed that the number of moons should be one, and only one. The vote for multiple moons ran ten to two, with Shalniel calmly and reasonably offering cogent arguments in favour of one…and they came to very satisfactory agreement, acknowledging and incorporating the points that Shalniel had raised, balancing the two largest moons so that, in the fullness of time, the length of a day and other rotational effects would be stabilised, and edging the others out far enough that their gravitational pulls were minimal.

Everyone was happy…except Valverus, who was enraged by their "defiance." All twelve gods had slightly different strengths and weaknesses, but in power they were very close to balanced. They would not accept Valverus' arbitrary and self-proclaimed superiority, and made it unequivocally clear to him that they were a cooperative, not a dictatorship. If they disagreed, they would seek to resolve the issue through discussion and compromise, but the majority would rule. Valverus tested them, lashing out with all his strength to smite them…and, to his shock and horror, was neutralised and easily contained. Thus he began a long period of sullen brooding.

Like all known planets, Tamaranth was originally molten, due to extreme volcanism and frequent collisions with other celestial bodies, but quite quickly (in geologic terms) it cooled enough that rocks and continental plates began to form. Outgassing and volcanic activity produced the first atmosphere; condensing water vapour, augmented by ice delivered from comets, formed the oceans; and life, that ubiquitous and quotidian miracle, began. As the gods learned more about building a planet, they worked with the natural forces to establish a magnetic field to prevent the planet's atmosphere from being stripped away by the solar winds, and watched as cyclic orogenic continent building and destruction began, along with periods of heating and cooling.

It was then that they discovered (or were given) the Templates. In simple, prosaic terms these were planting instructions and seedcorn; adherence would result in a creation that would fit comfortably within a galactic matrix, one very familiar to the gods of Tamaranth, for once they had been part of just such ecosystems. Rejection would limit the eventual beings of Tamaranth to their own, possibly unique, planetary environmental conditions. There was no pressure, no "right" choice, just options, and thus began another of the Great Deific Debates. For a million years they discussed the matter, looking at implications, weighing alternatives, until the Eleven reached harmonious consensus, and with a small pang for the paths that would not be taken and a far greater sense of excitement and anticipation, introduced cyanobacteria--photosynthesis! Free oxygen started to accumulate in the atmosphere, setting off the mass extinction of obligate anaerobic organisms, laying down iron deposits, and oxidising atmospheric methane to carbon dioxide, triggering glaciation. The increased oxygen concentrations provided a new opportunity for biological diversification. Until oxygen became widely available, life had remained energetically limited, but such a radical breakthrough in metabolic evolution greatly increased the free energy supply to living organisms all over the world.

Again Valverus unilaterally opposed the general agreement. This time he did not confront his fellow gods directly, instead attempting by more subtle means to destroy the cyanobacteria and undo the Third Intervention. He was stopped before he could cause damage, and his anger and hatred knew no bounds.

For the most part the gods were content to watch the incredible miracle of evolution, doing little more than encouraging a favourable mutation here and there, as prokaryotes were joined by eukaryotes then multicellular organisms. These simple creatures evolved into differentiated plants and animals, then, about 500 million years ago (or some 4 billion years after the world formed) began the conquest of the land. The first vertebrate land animals appeared 380 million years ago. Once again the gods debated intervention, but this time decided at let phylogeny take its course, and waited patiently for the emergence of mammals 180 million years later. They were intrigued by the diversity that emerged, so varied from world to world, even though arising from the same templates and genetic materials. Tamaranth developed insects and arachnids of unprecedented size and complexity, which spurred and altered the evolution of reptiles and hastened the emergence of advanced avian and crocodilian forms; it also meant that virtually every carnivorous or omnivorous species that followed was at least somewhat insectivorous. The gods watched and marvelled.

However, at last true primates came forth, and it was time to intervene again if they wanted a world that was compatible with the ones emerging under the guidance of other gods in different spheres. Again Valverus demanded they cease and desist; again the vote was eleven to one in favour of intervention, and Valverus seethed in impotent rage. The pace of change accelerated; 20 million years ago the first proto-hominoids were born, over the next few million years diverging into a number of genera and families that included the great apes, and steadily increasing in intellectual capacity including language and an understanding of culture beyond the family and such intangibles as empathy and curiosity. At last, a mere 200,000 years ago, the first men, men in all particulars, walked the earth--Homo sapiens Tamaranthi originalis.

The eleven decided to divide into cooperative teams, the better to encourage the further development of this species, so full of potential, so amazingly close to their brethren, born on worlds that orbited far-distant suns…so achingly close to the beings they themselves had been billions of years before. Yeron, Araul, Venall and Urth focussed on the basic phenotype, making very few changes beyond an enhanced adaptability. Ghorail, Shalniel and Miroch divided the species into elves, gnomes and dwarves, breeds that were slightly closer genetically to each other than to humans despite their apparent differences in physiology, and Ylwain, Fellbane, Gye and Kirmmaw shaped orcs, goblins and hobgoblins from the original racial matrix; they also, just for fun, experimented with magically integrating genes from mammalian and reptilian creatures…and thus dragons were born.

Valverus could no longer stand the frustration, the other gods' indifference to his demands, and--most of all--their success and the pleasure they took in these creatures made in their image. He fled out into the universe, leaving the others to this world of theirs. It must be admitted, the eleven greeted his departure with a collective sigh of relief.

The various races of men matured; the population increased slowly, faster amongst the relatively short-lived humans (a stable breeding stock was the gods' most compelling reason for leaving the strain almost untouched) more slowly for the longer-lived elven, dwarven, and gnomish races, moderately for the short-lived but more aggressive goblinoid races--the gods were scientifically trying to perfect a balance between desirable mutability, physicality, cultural stability, and intellect. It was a fascinating, always delightful, project. The appearance of the comet was the first serious threat that the beautiful world they'd helped shape had faced, and they vowed to do whatever was necessary to protect it and the beings they now thought of as their children.

Five hundred years after the eighth cometary pass Valverus returned. None too sane when he left, after over 150,000 years subjected to the raw dweomer of the Everflowing, he was raving mad: delusional--completely unable to distinguish fantasy from reality--and more megalomaniacal than ever. He knew the Truth, he was the Truth, and physical evidence had no importance, for was he not the One True God? He spewed his bilge upon the people of Tamaranth, and a small band of the primitive and credulous heeded his ranting, writing down his "inspired word" and aggrandising him--and in consequence themselves as his chosen disciples. However, the response of the vast majority of people was indifference; those that did notice him and his smelly, ignorant followers, reacted with derision at best, hostility at worst. Valverus' rage knew no bounds. These puny mortals dared laugh at him, mock him, defy him? Valverus tried to smite them…and was once again baulked by the Eleven.

After billions of years of community and consensus, the gods had grown together so closely they literally could not act without unanimity, but they remained distinct, strong personalities. This was both a great strength and occasionally a severe weakness; it had been the latter in the case of the Doomstane: during the first, second, and even the third cometary pass the Shadow could have been exterminated, preserving Tamaranth from its deadly assaults, but they had not been able to reach agreement that genocide was ethically defensible…and the Shadow was allowed to live. It had likewise proven their undoing in their dealings with Valverus. They realised the threat he posed had to be neutralised, but as they considered their possible courses of action, he rendered all their sage and compassionate cogitation moot; he formed himself into a force barrier that encircled the whole planet. If he could not rule in solitary--and arbitrary--omnipotence, then no one could. Now any one of the gods could have easily taken down the barrier, but there was one major problem with that: the field was rigged to concentrate and project the deific power downward. The force necessary to destroy the barrier would have turned the surface of the world into a hellish inferno where no life could survive. Valverus' orbs would have to be dismantled from below.

What is your full name?

Where and when were you born?

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the people.

What is your occupation?

To which social class do you belong?

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

Are you right- or left-handed?

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

What do you have in your pockets?

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

How would you describe your childhood in general?

What is your earliest memory?

How much schooling have you had?

Did you enjoy school?

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

As a child, what were your favourite activities?

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

When and with whom was your first kiss?

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

Describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Who has had the most influence on you?

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

What is your greatest regret?

What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

When was the time you were the most frightened?

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

What is your best memory?

What is your worst memory?

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

What is your greatest fear?

What are your religious views?

What is your political ideology?

What are your views on sex?

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

What do you believe makes a successful life?

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e., do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

Who or what, if anything, would you die (or otherwise go to extremes) for?

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

What do you look for in a potential lover?

How close are you to your family?

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

Do you care what others think of you?

What is/are your favourite hobbies and pastimes?

What is your most treasured possession?

What is your favourite colour?

What is your favourite food?

What, if anything, do you like to read?

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, social events, theatre, art, etc.)?

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

How do you spend a typical night without work the following day?

What makes you laugh?

What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

How do you deal with stress?

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

What are your pet peeves?

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

What is your greatest strength as a person?

What is your greatest weakness?

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Are you generally organized or messy?

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Do you like yourself?

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

If you could choose, how would you want to die?

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

What three words best describe your personality?

What three words would others probably use to describe you?