Innverse Stats | Heroes of Hraace (Pt. 1)

Name	Text
[Hero]	But what is a [Hero]? A [Hero]…ah.
[Hero]	But what is a [Hero]? A [Hero]…ah.
[Hero]	That was different. A [Hero] had rules. Not many, and most designed specifically for them, but they had been defined out of this hodgepodge of ideas by a being who had been there from the beginning. It was in the box around their name. The [ ].
[ ]	That was different. A [Hero] had rules. Not many, and most designed specifically for them, but they had been defined out of this hodgepodge of ideas by a being who had been there from the beginning. It was in the box around their name. The [ ].
[Hero]	[Hero].
[Hero]	He had argued so…ardently with the others about what [Heroes] should be, because they’d all had ideas. Pawns…but glorious pawns. They should have advantages, even a link with chosen Patrons. They should be blessed and cursed—they should be burning stars fated to die before they caused too much havoc.
Isthekenous	Isthekenous, the one who began it all.
Isthekenous	Isthekenous, who had a right to at least write what a hero was in the fabric of reality.
Isthekenous	Isthekenous, God-Hero Achetat, Champion of the Llegnais Pantheon, Warhost Leader of the Resprvchin Pantheon, Founder of the Aegum of Realities—these were his titles before he came to this place. Not all his titles; those would have been too many to count. These were his titles such as even the divine acknowledged and witnessed.
[Hero]	He had personally written [Heroes] into the weft of everything, far back then. And he had added rules that were, if not unique to his homelands, in keeping with his view of the world and role. One important rule about their creation.
Isthekenous	So many rules about what they could be, because he had always valued that. Experimentation, growth—he had created his new project around that idea. The God drew from a multiverse of worlds where children dreamed and designed games and worlds. These concepts they played at, he made manifest reality. Isthekenous melded a true system from countless realities into a single, ambitious project that would transform everything.
Isthekenous	But he had never been granted a new title for his achievement in this great creation. His dream had never been fully completed. Still—his work continued, and one of the things Isthekenous had written into [Heroes] as they changed, evolved, rose, and fell was this:
[Hero]	But he had never been granted a new title for his achievement in this great creation. His dream had never been fully completed. Still—his work continued, and one of the things Isthekenous had written into [Heroes] as they changed, evolved, rose, and fell was this:
Chandrar	Chandrar was the bare truth behind Terandria’s bright kingdoms. It was no older than any other continent, but it had the weight of finality about it. Great nations died here, the remnants split and fought, and new nations arose; Chandrar was the graveyard of ego, filled with ruins. Small wonder it was sometimes looked down on by other continents. The desert was harsh, and the continent was thus least-populated by space proportional to the others.
Terandria	Chandrar was the bare truth behind Terandria’s bright kingdoms. It was no older than any other continent, but it had the weight of finality about it. Great nations died here, the remnants split and fought, and new nations arose; Chandrar was the graveyard of ego, filled with ruins. Small wonder it was sometimes looked down on by other continents. The desert was harsh, and the continent was thus least-populated by space proportional to the others.
Chandrar	Chandrar was the bare truth behind Terandria’s bright kingdoms. It was no older than any other continent, but it had the weight of finality about it. Great nations died here, the remnants split and fought, and new nations arose; Chandrar was the graveyard of ego, filled with ruins. Small wonder it was sometimes looked down on by other continents. The desert was harsh, and the continent was thus least-populated by space proportional to the others.
Chandrar	Dark green shoots, spiky, poking out of the soil. Yellats, the ubiquitous crop, could grow in this soil with only a few drops of water and time. It was no bounty and often considered a poor man’s crop, but they grew where every other plant had died. And like Yellats…Chandrar’s nations could blossom and grow to vast proportions if the conditions were right.
[Farmer]	A hoe made of plain iron rose as the dust storm blew in. The tool rose in a smooth arc, then halted as the man paused, untroubled by the winds that forced other [Farmers] inside. The sands that could abrade even Stitch-folk skin blew around this man’s face, caressing his skin, bouncing off his open eyes; he neither cared nor noticed. His clothing suffered greatly; he replaced the rough linens once a month, a great expense. But money was one of those things that came and went.
Rhir	The man stopped. He listened to the wind as it howled around him and thought it was too excited. The wind often told him things; it had sighed on the day the King of Destruction had quit his war. It had blown like a storm when the King of Destruction returned; when the Deaths of Rhir had awoken, he had felt it stir. It had blown at other times for reasons he hadn’t known, bringing strange odors and sensations, as if great works were occurring.
Doubte	Now, it blew again, and the Hero of Zethe, whom men and women thought of as ancient history, as dead, raised his head. Doubte sensed Chandrar moving once more.
Doubte	Now, it blew again, and the Hero of Zethe, whom men and women thought of as ancient history, as dead, raised his head. Doubte sensed Chandrar moving once more.
Chandrar	Now, it blew again, and the Hero of Zethe, whom men and women thought of as ancient history, as dead, raised his head. Doubte sensed Chandrar moving once more.
Doubte	He struck one blow, and a furrow exactly twenty paces long and deep enough to plant Yellat seeds appeared. The ground thumped; dust rose, uncovering the Yellats. Doubte stepped left. Struck again.
Doubte	His ardor was up; the hoe would break if he swung it too hard, despite its subtle strengthening. Doubte made himself chip the ground away, piece by piece. Even that was easy; he didn’t feel the hoe’s weight, nor the effort that had other [Farmers] sweating in the merciless sun. It was as simple as scooping butter from a pot. Easier.
[Farmer]	His ardor was up; the hoe would break if he swung it too hard, despite its subtle strengthening. Doubte made himself chip the ground away, piece by piece. Even that was easy; he didn’t feel the hoe’s weight, nor the effort that had other [Farmers] sweating in the merciless sun. It was as simple as scooping butter from a pot. Easier.

But what is a [Hero]? A [Hero]…ah.

That was different. A [Hero] had rules. Not many, and most designed specifically for them, but they had been defined out of this hodgepodge of ideas by a being who had been there from the beginning. It was in the box around their name. The [ ].

[ ]

That was different. A [Hero] had rules. Not many, and most designed specifically for them, but they had been defined out of this hodgepodge of ideas by a being who had been there from the beginning. It was in the box around their name. The [ ].

[Hero]

[Hero].

[Hero]

He had argued so…ardently with the others about what [Heroes] should be, because they’d all had ideas. Pawns…but glorious pawns. They should have advantages, even a link with chosen Patrons. They should be blessed and cursed—they should be burning stars fated to die before they caused too much havoc.

Isthekenous

Isthekenous, the one who began it all.

Isthekenous

Isthekenous, who had a right to at least write what a hero was in the fabric of reality.

Isthekenous

Isthekenous, God-Hero Achetat, Champion of the Llegnais Pantheon, Warhost Leader of the Resprvchin Pantheon, Founder of the Aegum of Realities—these were his titles before he came to this place. Not all his titles; those would have been too many to count. These were his titles such as even the divine acknowledged and witnessed.

[Hero]

He had personally written [Heroes] into the weft of everything, far back then. And he had added rules that were, if not unique to his homelands, in keeping with his view of the world and role. One important rule about their creation.

Isthekenous

So many rules about what they could be, because he had always valued that. Experimentation, growth—he had created his new project around that idea. The God drew from a multiverse of worlds where children dreamed and designed games and worlds. These concepts they played at, he made manifest reality. Isthekenous melded a true system from countless realities into a single, ambitious project that would transform everything.

Isthekenous

But he had never been granted a new title for his achievement in this great creation. His dream had never been fully completed. Still—his work continued, and one of the things Isthekenous had written into [Heroes] as they changed, evolved, rose, and fell was this:

[Hero]

But he had never been granted a new title for his achievement in this great creation. His dream had never been fully completed. Still—his work continued, and one of the things Isthekenous had written into [Heroes] as they changed, evolved, rose, and fell was this:

Chandrar

Chandrar was the bare truth behind Terandria’s bright kingdoms. It was no older than any other continent, but it had the weight of finality about it. Great nations died here, the remnants split and fought, and new nations arose; Chandrar was the graveyard of ego, filled with ruins. Small wonder it was sometimes looked down on by other continents. The desert was harsh, and the continent was thus least-populated by space proportional to the others.

Terandria

Chandrar was the bare truth behind Terandria’s bright kingdoms. It was no older than any other continent, but it had the weight of finality about it. Great nations died here, the remnants split and fought, and new nations arose; Chandrar was the graveyard of ego, filled with ruins. Small wonder it was sometimes looked down on by other continents. The desert was harsh, and the continent was thus least-populated by space proportional to the others.

Chandrar

Chandrar was the bare truth behind Terandria’s bright kingdoms. It was no older than any other continent, but it had the weight of finality about it. Great nations died here, the remnants split and fought, and new nations arose; Chandrar was the graveyard of ego, filled with ruins. Small wonder it was sometimes looked down on by other continents. The desert was harsh, and the continent was thus least-populated by space proportional to the others.

Chandrar

Dark green shoots, spiky, poking out of the soil. Yellats, the ubiquitous crop, could grow in this soil with only a few drops of water and time. It was no bounty and often considered a poor man’s crop, but they grew where every other plant had died. And like Yellats…Chandrar’s nations could blossom and grow to vast proportions if the conditions were right.

[Farmer]

A hoe made of plain iron rose as the dust storm blew in. The tool rose in a smooth arc, then halted as the man paused, untroubled by the winds that forced other [Farmers] inside. The sands that could abrade even Stitch-folk skin blew around this man’s face, caressing his skin, bouncing off his open eyes; he neither cared nor noticed. His clothing suffered greatly; he replaced the rough linens once a month, a great expense. But money was one of those things that came and went.

Rhir

The man stopped. He listened to the wind as it howled around him and thought it was too excited. The wind often told him things; it had sighed on the day the King of Destruction had quit his war. It had blown like a storm when the King of Destruction returned; when the Deaths of Rhir had awoken, he had felt it stir. It had blown at other times for reasons he hadn’t known, bringing strange odors and sensations, as if great works were occurring.

Doubte

Now, it blew again, and the Hero of Zethe, whom men and women thought of as ancient history, as dead, raised his head. Doubte sensed Chandrar moving once more.

Doubte

Now, it blew again, and the Hero of Zethe, whom men and women thought of as ancient history, as dead, raised his head. Doubte sensed Chandrar moving once more.

Chandrar

Now, it blew again, and the Hero of Zethe, whom men and women thought of as ancient history, as dead, raised his head. Doubte sensed Chandrar moving once more.

Doubte

He struck one blow, and a furrow exactly twenty paces long and deep enough to plant Yellat seeds appeared. The ground thumped; dust rose, uncovering the Yellats. Doubte stepped left. Struck again.

Doubte

His ardor was up; the hoe would break if he swung it too hard, despite its subtle strengthening. Doubte made himself chip the ground away, piece by piece. Even that was easy; he didn’t feel the hoe’s weight, nor the effort that had other [Farmers] sweating in the merciless sun. It was as simple as scooping butter from a pot. Easier.

[Farmer]

His ardor was up; the hoe would break if he swung it too hard, despite its subtle strengthening. Doubte made himself chip the ground away, piece by piece. Even that was easy; he didn’t feel the hoe’s weight, nor the effort that had other [Farmers] sweating in the merciless sun. It was as simple as scooping butter from a pot. Easier.

Heroes of Hraace (Pt. 1)

Mentions