historical

When the light fades and his vision returns, the Twelve stand before him in the middle of the shrine.

The radiance of their divine auras is almost as powerful as the blinding light, but Adam feels nothing.

Girkala, taking the form of a lovely young woman wreathed in grapevines and carrying an amphora of wine, is first to speak.

"Welcome, one and all! So pleased to see you all accepted our invitation. This calls for celebration, does it not?"

Elthnorn, appearing as a little fox with shimmering golden fur, scurries among the gathered mortals and demigods, sniffing at them speculatively.

"Fascinating bunch we've got. You'll entertain us nicely, won't you? We should have quite the show in store."

"Enough." Methris, appearing as a towering man moulded from living bronze, interrupted.

"We are not here for revelry and amusement. We are here for a matter of impossible gravity, not some frivolous contest."

He takes a deep breath, producing a sound, not unlike air rushing through wind chimes.

"We must decide which of these chosen few are worthy of the power and responsibility of divinity. Which of them shall join the Twelve."

Adam's eyes searched for Hecate, at the corner of the shrine, she stood with a beautiful black veil covering her face but a new window popped up before him.

[Mission: You are the Imposter

Rank: Legendary

Objective: Pass the 12 trials and deceive the other 11 God's. Hecate wishes to kill other God's and goddesses.

Reward: +15 LVL, Hecate's Apostle.

Failure: Your account will be suspended for 15 days.]

As Adam was reading the prompt his head hurt by listening to a booming laugh.

"One of us shall be a God? Excellent! Closson's strength shall make the Twelve even mightier!"

"I shall best these scrawny challengers in any contest that can be devised!"

"You should listen before you speak, giant. This is not a contest."

Adornick, an impossibly gorgeous man in a nearly transparent robe, speaks next.

"You will each be judged on your own merits. It may even be that we find all of you worthy of joining us."

"Or none of you may be found worthy."

Palindera, clad head to toe in shimmering steel armour and outfitted with a terrifying array of weaponry, booms in a voice filled with simmering rage.

"The power of the divine is not something to be handed out to any mere mortal."

"It remains to be seen whether any of you will prove yourselves worthy. Not all of us are convinced of the wisdom or necessity of this.. endeavour."

"Oh, don't scare them just yet. There will be plenty of time for that later."

Utheral tries to lighten the mood, looking as jolly as ever in his form as a rotund man with a long beard and fur-lined robe.

Hecate speaks and the shrine becomes heart chilling.

"Let us waste no further time. We have each decided on a trial, a test of your skills, resolve, and character."

"We have each selected one of you to be our Chosen, our candidates who may possibly be worthy of joining us."

"Those who survive all twelve trials will be judged."

"Anywho is worthy will receive the ultimate gift and ultimate burden."

"Those who are not worthy will be.. dismissed." Her smile as she says that is terrifying.

"Remember." The raspy voice of Hadrene, a skeletal figure in a dark robe, is immediately unsettling.

"You will be judged not only on your results but on your means."

"You will be watched at all times during these trials."

"If you wish to become one of us, you must behave in a matter befitting the divine."

The Twelve give them little time to reflect.

Sillene, in her traditional guise as a sphinx, looks over everyone as she speaks.

"Do not expect all of your tasks to be as simple as they appear. In matters of the divine, there are always secrets."

"Enough. This is not the time for rationalisations. If they have the wit and courtship, they can discover the truth. The trials are about to begin."

Ponrindan, a towering, muscular man with skin the colour of the seas and hair the colour of seaweed, makes this last declaration.

"By our agreement, you shall face mine first.

Ponrindan lifts his great trident aloft as he continues speaking.

"Further trials shall take place upon the isle of Elysia. It is a remote land where mortals have only recently begun to dwell, fleeing the war and oppression in Sankos."

"Your first trial is to sail from the port of Mycelle to Elysia within three days. You must sail within sight of Elysia's shores before the end of the third day."

The woman clad in regal robes, apparently bold and proud enough to challenge a God, speaks in protest.

"I am Embris the Third, Queen of Galone. My explorers have visited Elysia."

"You ask the impossible. Even my fastest ships take at least a full month to make such a journey."

Ponrindan shows the slightest smirk of amusement.

"It is, indeed, impossible if one follows the calmer seas and safer currents, as your sailors do."

"You're not going to do it. Instead, you will sail through the Messala Strait and the Sea of Sorrows."

"Hum, Messala Strait and sea of sorrows?"

Hearing his questioning tone, Daedala snorts "Others speak of these places of legend, avoided by all but the most foolhardy."

"Few sailors who returned from there told terrifying tales of sea monsters."

Embris, undaunted, scowls further. "Very well."

"I assume we have three days from the time our ships arrive in Mycelle?" My ship is currently docked at"

"No," Ponrindan interjects, his face now irritated rather than amused.

"The three days begin now. It will be up to you to assemble all that you will need."

"Ships, crew, supplies. All can be had by the clever and resourceful. This is part of your trial as well."

"Those who are upon Elysia in three days will be given the second trial. Now, go forth. We will be watching."

The blinding golden light falls once more.

When the storm has passed, the Chosen of the Twelve stands in the bustling market of the prosperous port city of Mycelle, surrounded by merchants and shoppers who are taken aback by their unexpected appearance.