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Scion: God

Created by Onyx Path - Scion: God Crowdfunding Campaign

Founded in 2012, Onyx Path Publishing is a Pennsylvania-based company dedicated to the development of exemplary, immersive worlds. Working with a group of amazingly talented creators, we explore print, electronic and other forms of media distribution to make our products available to our fans. With over 20 years of publishing experience from which to draw, we are industry professionals who love the art of the game and plan to continue making meaningful, innovative contributions in the years to come.

Latest Updates from Our Project:

Sneak Peek: Purviews
over 1 year ago – Sun, Nov 06, 2022 at 08:21:35 AM

Hello Scions,

Another sneak peek today, from a pretty hefty chapter that we'll see in full on Tuesday. Today we're looking a bits from Chapter 5, which covers the Purviews of the Gods. This sneak peek will touch on Legend, Legendary Relics, and new Birthrights!



Legend

At each step of their journey, from Visitation to Apotheosis, a Scion’s Legend ebbs and flows. Their deeds and misdeeds form the basis of their mantle and give rise to the very foundation that firmly establishes their place in both their Pantheons and within The World. 

And Ye Shall Be As Gods 

Upon Apotheosis, a new God’s Legend is transformed into something far more substantial than as a Hero or Demigod. First, you integrate into the cosmology of your Pantheon. Or, if you are the sort to have bucked tradition and started your own Pantheon with Blackjack and illicit substances, you are the cosmology — especially if Creator is one of your Callings. You can also find yourself commonly referred to by your Legendary Titles. Just as Odin’s title, All-Father, is central to his identity, so too can your Legendary Titles become an epithet by which others invoke you and your deeds.

However, now your Legend makes you a prime target for ambitious Heroes and Demigods. As difficult as it is to attain Godhood, maintaining it can prove to be an unbelievably challenging task. You cannot simply rest upon your golden laurels and expect the continued adoration of your followers — even Gods must work and nurture belief in themselves. In failing to do so, they run into the real possibility that they may become forgotten or lose their standing in their Pantheon, being relegated to a mere Demigod or worse — just a Hero in another Demigod or God’s story. Who knows how many Pantheons and Gods rose only to fall into obscurity throughout the ages, their names forgotten, and their mantles left by the wayside? 

Legend Trait Effects

Your God-level character receives a new Boon per dot of Legend and a new Calling dot for every even-numbered dot of Legend.

•••• •••• • Singular. You are a fledgling God, whose Legend is secure, but can still grow. You have taken the first step into full Divinity and many newly visited Scions aspire to your ideals and achievements. A religious order is started in your hometown or where one of your most important deeds took place. 9 Boons.

•••• •••• •• Incomparable. You have fully integrated into your Pantheon’s structure, finding a niche for yourself, allowing for wider spread proliferation of your worship to extend far beyond the lands of your birth. 10 Boons, +1 Calling dot.

•••• •••• ••• Unparalleled. Your deeds and actions shape the values of your Pantheon, becoming the basis for belief and how your followers emulate you. Religious orders and cults dedicated to you now extend across the world. 11 Boons.

•••• •••• •••• Peerless. You are inextricably linked to your Pantheon and its mythos, for better or worse. Whether you have been part of it since its creation or through the forging of your own myth, none can deny your place in its cosmology. Your words are gospel unto themselves, etched into stone, the hearts of your believers, and the very cosmos themselves. 12 Boons, +1 Calling dot.



The Hammer (etc.) of the Gods

From the time that a Scion experiences their visitation up until the moment of their Apotheosis into Godhood, they have been aided by their Birthrights — creatures, guides, followers, and relics — who have grown alongside with them in both utility and power. These Birthrights can and often do become part of a God’s Legend, attaching themselves to perhaps a specific mantle or incarnation. 

Legendary Relics

In The World, there are a multitude of birthrights of varying degrees of power, some tied more intimately to the Legend of a Scion, Demigod, or God themselves than others — all of which were created from being part of a legend or mythic stories — have spawned what could essentially be considered homages to the original. These relics, while powerful in their own right, pale in comparison to those which truly have earned the moniker “legendary”. 

Take Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir. By itself, it is a powerful relic capable of great feats of strength and drawing down thunder and lightening from the skies by its wielder. Anyone capable of forging birthrights can make a facsimile and attempt to pass it off as the real deal, but the truth is, as they say, is in the pudding. Or in this case: it’s matching belt, Megingjörð. While Thor’s belt is not a relic in the traditional sense, without it the true power of Mjolnir cannot be unlocked. 

Truly legendary relics like Mjolnir, Caladbolg, Aegis, or the Cloud-Stepping Boots are infused with a piece of the wielding Gods Legend, imbuing them with a greater power than lesser versions, but with a catch: they now have invocation or Legend requirements to unlock their true power. 

See below for a couple examples of Relics from Scion: Hero and Scion: Demigod that have been brought up to God-level:

Mjolnir (••••)
Legendary
Purviews: Epic Dexterity, Epic Strength, Sky
Often imitated, but never truly replicated, the true Mjolnir — the one which Thor himself, and Thor alone, has wielded — is a sight to behold. It radiates power, with ripples of electricity crackling as soon as it is handled. Crafted by the dwarf brothers Eitri and Brokkr, it is part of a regalia including a belt and iron gloves worn by Thor during his greatest adventures. Those seeking to emulate, or even seize the mantle of Thor, have sought after the true pieces as proof of their mettle and prowess.
Knack: The Scion imbues a number of Legend points into Mjolnir and gains that many dots of Might for a scene.
Tags: Lethal, Melee, Thrown, Versatile
Requirement: To fully unlock the legendary power of Mjolnir, user must also be equipped with the Megingjörð — the Power Belt. Otherwise, it remains inert and access to its Purviews and Knack are restricted.

Golden Stag (•••••)
Legendary
Purviews: Journeys, Moon, Wild
In the days of old, the Golden Stag was exactly that: a golden-antlered stag that pulled Artemis’ chariot through the night sky while on her hunts. Today, it appears as a custom chopper and helmet combo that moves faster than any other motorbike in The World, with its handlebars similar in shape and style to a stag’s horns.
Enhancement: 3 general, or 4 while attempting Stealth
Knack: For the purpose of hunts, the Golden Stag can traverse to any place in The World, as well as Terra Incognita or Dominions so long as there is a moon in that place.
Requirement: The Scion must have engaged in some manner of hunt (not all hunts involve animals) to ride the Golden Stag of Artemis, up to and including requests to enact vengeance on a wronged party. Attempting to ride the stag without a hunt being called will result in them being bucked off if it is in stag form or the engine not turning over if in motorcycle form.



New Birthrights

As new Pantheons come into the collective consciousness of The World, so, too, do new Birthrights become known and available to those born, chosen, or created to wield them.

Creatures

Aluxob (••)
Considered to be spirits of good luck among worshippers of the K’uh, and appearing as traditionally dressed Mayans, albeit no taller than a child’s doll, the Aluxob are a welcomed presence on farms the world over, with small roadside shrines built next to local farm stands. beware: if an Aluxob’s request for an offering is refused— be it a small bit of dried corn or other fruit of one’s labor — bad luck will follow until the proper reparations are made.
Qualities: Shroud
Flair: Curse

Ghost Bats (••)
To most, bats are creatures to be feared, and superstitions about them run rampant across the world. This is not the case for the Ghost Bats, who inhabit paradise of Coaybay. Each of them was once the soul of a living person, who in the nighttime leave their paradise to return to their families and watch over them. Offerings of guava fruit are often left for the Ghost Bats and is said to be useful in summoning them and getting them to share their eons of knowledge.
Qualities: Flight
Flair: Mirror, Mirror

Kapok Hounds (•••)
Moving together in packs, these hounds — referred to lovingly as ‘sato’ or ‘street dogs’ — share no one appearance on account of their being crafted from the wood of the kapok tree. Their purpose is to act as a guide for those seeking the paradise of Coaybay, acting as companions for the journey. While they are not as hard one would expect for hounds made of wood, there is a cottony quality to the feel of the wood that lends them to being often pet and doted upon as “goodest boys or girls”.
Qualities: Armor Piercing
Flair: Penetrator

Followers

Behiques (•••)
Shamans and medicine people of the Taino, they can speak with plants to uncover their medicinal and spiritual properties. Further still, they know the language of the Zemi themselves and act as the conduit between the Gods and their faithful. So honeyed are their words that they are even said to have used their skill to calm the rage of the Titan Juracán, and there are few situations that they cannot talk themselves (or the Scions they follow) out of.
Tags: Consultant, Helpful, Knack (Combat Medic)

Gandharvas (••) 
Servants of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, one of the Heavenly Kings and Guardian of the East, these celestial beings are skilled in song and dance bringing not only joy to sad events but using their talents as an act of meditation in hopes to bring enlightenment to those in their presence — and hopefully faring better in this incarnation than their last, which led them to being gandharvas in the first place. Perhaps if they stopped bothering meditating monks, they’d fare better in the next life.
Tags: Entourage, Knack (Fluid Appeal), Smooth

Guides

Acan (••)
Among the many Gods of the K’uh, Acan is said to be the life of the party. A boisterous and exciting God, who enjoys partying and being the clown of the group, Acan’s gift to humanity was intoxication and altered conscious by way of his sacred brew made of fermented honey and the bark of the balche tree. Scions seek Acan out when they need to gain otherworldly or spiritual incite and need the help of a more experienced partier than themselves.
Asset Skills: Culture, Occult
Guide Stunt (1 or 2): Gain an Enhancement equal to successes spent on this stunt on your next Culture or Occult roll to glean helpful information.

Ek Chuaj (•••)
Known as the Black War Chief or the Black Scorpion, Ek Chuaj has worn many hats: as a God of merchants, a God of war, and even the patron of the cacao plant. Being multifaced has proven to be part of his staying power and he teaches Scions to not put all their eggs in one basket: diversifying your talents and skills is the best way to get ahead — especially in business and war.
Asset Skill: Persuasion
Purview: War
Guide Stunt: Gain an Enhancement equal to the number of successes on the next Persuasion roll to improve the Attitude of the target in your favor.

Relics

Anat’s Rib (•••) 
A highly sought-after material to be forged into jewelry or as accents on weaponry, Anat’s Rib isn’t Anat’s — it is a sliver of bone from Ba’al’s body which she reconstructed after after Mot slew him. Many see it as a sign of Anat’s devotion to Ba’al as well as her inclination towards righteous fury — you may have slain her beloved, but she will use parts of him to enact her vengeance.
Knack: If the Scion is Taken Out, they gain a second wind and unmark Taken Out. Only usable once per battle/scene.
Enhancement: 1 when engaging in battle or feats of strength.

Dagon’s Compass (••) 
Purview: Journeys
Motif: Wherever you go, there you are.
While ancient Phoenicians did not have a compass in a way that resembles modern ones, they were nevertheless granted the means to navigate their way home by the God Dagon. The item can take a multitude of forms: a classic hand-held compass, a needle on a magnetized rock in a bowl of water, or even an app on a smartphone — whose icon is silhouette of a dolphin jumping from the water. No matter where a Scion is, this compass can guide them wherever they need to go or be — be it in The World or otherwise.
Enhancement: 1 to finding or entering Terra Incognitae or Underworlds, 2 to navigating to anywhere else in The World.

Moonlight Bow (•••)
Purview: Moon
Forged out of guanin, an alloy consisting of copper, silver, and gold, this bow is modeled after the one wielded by the Goddess Maroya, who hunted down the unworthy dead in the night shooting beams of moonlight to banish them to oblivion. A more modest in appearance recurve bow in the modern era, scenes of Coaybay are etched into it, it has become popular among hunters and even Artemis has commented that she, too, wished she had such a bow.
Knack: When a Scion is facing down dishonorable undead, the arrows fired from the Moonlight Bow appear as brilliant beams of moonlight and deals one additional damage against such creatures after purchasing either the Inflict Injury or Critical Stunts.


Well, there's just a tiny tease of what's coming on Tuesday. We'll have more for all of these sections, plus Knacks and Pantheon-specific Purviews, not to mention an expanded section on Creating Pantheons that we shared yesterday!

All backers will be able to download the next draft manuscript preview on Tuesday, and will be able to read the entire draft of Scion: God before the end of the campaign, prior to any pledges being processed or payments collected. 

#ScionGod






Funding Achievements!
over 1 year ago – Sat, Nov 05, 2022 at 04:37:41 PM

Hello Scions,
Well, we've accomplished a mighty Deed indeed!

We've crossed the $100,000 Funding level!
 
Working together, we've unlocked our latest Achievement, expanding the Scion: God Companion supplement a third time and giving the developers and writers more geography to explore Realms and related concepts.


ACHIEVED! - At $100,000 in Funding – Scion: God Companion Supplement III – More on Realms! The Companion supplement will expand and clarify rules around Terra Incognita, Realms, and Sancta. Rules and guidance may include information on ruling over Realms, creating or destroying Realms, Realm Conditions, and Realm challenges.

So... do we rest on our accomplishments? NO! More victories surely lie ahead...

Similar to our previous set of Stretch Goals, we'll have a milestone marker celebration at the next $5K number, and then add additional content to one of our supplemental projects at the next $10K target. Remember, all Stretch Goal projects are bonus rewards, added to various rewards list at no additional cost. If you're receiving the Scion: God PDF as part of your rewards, you'll be receiving the Jumpstart PDF, the Companion PDF, and the Divine Inspiration PDF as additional rewards in thanks for your support in this crowdfunding effort!


At $105,000 in Funding - Digital Wallpaper – Dress up your monitor with an epic scene from Scion: God, automatically added to the rewards list for all backers.


At $110,000 in Funding – Divine Inspiration Supplement II – Plot Seed Packs, sets of thematically-connected plot seeds that can be threaded together for a larger story will be added to the Divine Inspiration supplement. 

So let's keep up the good work! Please continue to let friends and friendly gamers know about this project. Share on your social media and in your social circles, and let's see if we can't get a second round of Divine Inspiration!

#ScionGod


Sneak Peek: Creating a Pantheon
over 1 year ago – Sat, Nov 05, 2022 at 06:44:38 AM

Hey there, Scions!
I've got a sneak peek from Chapter 4 for you today, which details the ways that Gods may forge new Pantheons, Mantles, and myths. Tomorrow, I'll be sharing a bit from Chapter 5 dealing with Birthrights. On Tuesday we'll have the next manuscript preview out to backers, which will contain the full text for both of these chapters from the current draft of the Scion: God manuscript.

Creating a Pantheon

Pantheons do not spring into existence fully formed, even if it may appear to mortals that they do. From the perspective of the Gods, they gradually coalesce through Deeds that shift the perceptions of The World: when a Band of Scions has fought, loved, and struggled long enough together, people cannot help but think of them as more than Heroes who stood side by side. They become something else, something new.

Scions who achieve Apotheosis and become Gods have a choice. They can remain fully part of their own Pantheon(s) or they can work to define themselves as so markedly different that they gain access to powers that will be unique to them and to any of their Scions. Other Gods have done it in the past through Mantles woven together from Deeds intended to strengthen their new identities. Some of them have poured so much of themselves into these new Mantles that their original natures in their first Pantheons have all but faded: the God of a minor city-state or a sacred mountain leaves that part of themselves behind to become the protector of an empire, with their first selves turning into nothing more than a curiosity for scholars and archeologists.

Players who want their characters to form their own Pantheon should be aware of several things before they begin. Briefly:

  • It involves a choice of Deeds at each point of Legend from 9 to 12 to complete fully
  • Gods accomplish three of these Deeds through Incarnations: as Heroes at Legend 9 and 10, and as Demigods at Legend 11
  • Unlike Apotheosis, there is no need to complete every step, but skipping one has consequences
  • A Pantheon can only have three Gods of Legend 12 at any time

This information is not hidden from Gods, either, although they will explain it in their own terms. Any God whose Mantles, like those of the Òrìshà who transformed into the Loas, have created their own Pantheon know how it is done and can guide others along the way.

Overview

There is no single way to form a Pantheon. Some Gods form themselves around a culture, others around a sacred place, and still others around an ideal. Some focus on the mortals who worship them and some around The World those mortals rely on to live. What all the ways share in common is a general arc from smaller to larger whose reverberations can reach further and further back in time until they may reach the moment of creation itself.

At each step, they act to provide answers to increasingly profound questions for their followers. If they make mistakes along the way, those become part of their legacy as well. Unless they’re careful, their Pantheon and the religion associated with it may look nothing like they originally intended.

  • At Legend 9, Gods act to offer devotees new ways of seeing them as a distinct grouping, even while they maintain their Pantheon ties. Whether as mystery cults like those of the Hellenistic period or syncretic religions that form where any cultures meet and exchange stories of their Gods, the Scions come together to nurture a new Cult that is theirs alone. The focus of this stage is their mortal community of worshipers and how it interacts with other mortals.
  • At Legend 10, they work to extend the reach of their Deeds further into the past, attaching it to Scions whose own achievements demonstrate that the Gods have raised up Heroes for centuries to promote their values. By guiding these Scions to their Visitations successfully, the characters define their proto-Pantheon’s Virtues, which are the focus of this stage together with the kind of Heroes who represent it.
  • At Legend 11, the Gods become the first to have taught humanity important skills, to have named things, or to have performed sacred rituals. Depending on the choice they make, this can involve claiming a people, a land, or an aspect of nature as their own, but usually involves the creation of a special Sanctum that will act as the seed of an Over- or Underworld. Performed successfully, it ends with the creation of their own Signature Purview that they will pass on to any of their Scions in the future. The focus of this stage is the relationship between divinity, humanity, and The World.
  • At Legend 12, they define their cosmology and their place in it. This step can be the most challenging and difficult, since it will forever engrave their identities in Fate and mortals’ memory of who they are. If they succeed, however, the Mantles they have created along the way become independent Gods and the Realm or Realms they have created expand to their fullest potential. The focus of this stage is that of ultimate meaning: life, death, the order of the cosmos, and similar matters of profound importance to humanity.

Pantheon Mantles

A God worshiped in one place or in one aspect can be markedly different from another. Zeus Basileos rules over the Theoi, Zeus Xenios protects strangers and defends the rules of hospitality, while ram-horned Zeus Ammon is counted among the Netjer. While most Mantles like these come to be when a God negotiates with a Demigod Scion to keep her from trying to usurp his primary Mantle — acknowledging the Scion’s worthiness without surrendering control — they can also arise when Gods separate themselves from their native Pantheon in order to create a new one.

The amount of difference between a God’s main identity and that of a Pantheon Mantle depends on their preference and how many of the stages of Pantheon-building they have undertaken. Some are virtually the same other than having a connection to different Legendary Titles, while others are almost unrecognizable.

By completing the work of Pantheon creation at Legend 9, a God’s Pantheon Mantle can substitute up to three of her Legendary Titles for ones better suited to the identity. She can do so with another three Titles with each subsequent point of Legend, so that a Legend 12 God has an entirely different set.

Starting at Legend 10, a God can exchange one Calling for a Mantle-specific one, keeping the same number of Callings dots and Knacks. He may do so with a second at Legend 11 and the third at Legend 12.

At Legend 11, the God can trade two Purviews for ones specific to the Pantheon Mantle, and two more at Legend 12. If one of these is the Pantheon Signature Purview (PSP) of the God’s original Pantheon, it means that she maintains some connection to that Pantheon in some form. If not, then her player is indicating that he wants the character to focus completely on the new Pantheon: the PSP still changes to the one associated with it, and the Mantle attached to the first Pantheon goes free to find a better bearer.


Legend 9: New Mysteries

At Legend 9, newly-risen Gods begin forming a Pantheon on a small and local scale by gathering a new Cult that recognizes their connection to each other. Even if the Scions already have Cults of their own, this one is different: it will become the core of their religion and a record among mortals of all the Deeds they accomplish together.

The general goal of the Deed at this point is to foster and strengthen this new Cult against whatever forces might oppose it. The characters do this by incarnating as Heroes somewhere in The World linked to their collective Legend, acting to exemplify the qualities they want the Cult to promote, and showing would-be followers that their way offers something different from the worship of other Pantheons.

Suggested Questions and Stories

Why is this day sacred? People remember when their Gods win victory against the forces that oppose their religion. A day that commemorates a challenge the original Band of Heroes faced has turned into a holy day among worshipers, but what was it that they did to make it special? While the Gods’ Incarnations are not their former selves, the Deed they carry out is symbolically or thematically similar to one of their early adventures and takes place on the same day of the year. The opponents are different, as are their specific goals, but what motivates them is much the same. Choose an option like this if you want a more action-oriented arc in which characters teach lessons through displays of power.

  • If they once fought Titan cultists hunting for sacrifices that no one will miss in a busy city, they may now be a group of politicians systematically withholding support for poor neighborhoods so that they collapse and can be demolished. Both of them are driven by a callous disregard for the lives of marginalized people, but their methods change from the past to the present. Resolving the situation emphasizes that the Heroes are protectors above all else.
  • If the Heroes once investigated a Sorcerer who used magic to take revenge on anyone whom he felt had ever insulted or belittled him, then this time, it’s an amateur occultist who is the first of many victims whose only connection is that they all had a scholarly interest in magic. The opponent might be someone who wanted to learn sorcery and was turned down repeatedly, but who now has some item that lets her strike back at them. Depending on the way the story plays out, the theme could either be a warning about the dangers of sorcery or what happens when someone lets the desire for retribution dominate them. Each would teach a different lesson to the Gods’ Cult.

What makes us different from others? Through symbols and practices, the Pantheon’s followers have marked themselves as different from worshipers of other religions. They may do it through the way they dress, their diet, or how they decorate their bodies. They may surround themselves with secrecy, requiring initiation to learn the deeper teachings of the Cult, or they may only be open to people of specific heritages. How did these practices come to be, and how does it affect the Cult’s relationships with the surrounding mortal communities? Choose an option like this for a socially-oriented arc in which investigations and interactions are the key to success.

  • A group of devotees of the Gods want to buy property in a small town so that they can build their first temple, but the local community is suspicious of them, especially those involved with a temple of an established Pantheon. The Heroes must find a way either to ease tensions among the mortals before the problem escalates or show their own followers how to protect themselves against the kinds of threats they will face in the future. It’s possible that some outside force is manipulating one group or the other in order to force a confrontation and drive the Gods’ people out; it may be someone involved with one of the characters’ native Pantheons who sees this new faction as an aberration or even a member of one of their existing Cults who believes the inclusion of their patron in this new religion is religiously offensive.
  • A schism in the Gods’ Cult happens before it can properly take shape, with two small groups of worshipers in a bustling city dividing over matters of proper belief and practice. Each group has a charismatic leader who isn’t willing to accept the other one as head of the community. Not only are their accusations against each other growing increasingly lurid — with rumors of gruesome sacrifices, abuse of their followers, and cooperation with Titanic forces — but they are starting to claim divine favor for their own position in the form of miracles. Do the Heroes side with one group over the other, work to bring them together to resolve their feud before it gets out of control, or remove both leaders in favor of someone more suited to the role?

What is our most important teaching? In multicultural societies where people can choose from a variety of religions to find the one that suits them, those religions often need to hold out a promise that none of the others do. It might be hope for a better afterlife, secrets of the true nature of The World, clear guidance on how to live, or just a supportive community, but it will be something that they can claim is theirs alone. What sets the Gods’ Pantheon apart from the religions around it, and how did they come to communicate its unique qualities to worshipers? Choose an option like this if you want an arc in which characters teach lessons directly, reveal mysteries, and lead others.

  • Members of a still-new Cult dedicated to the characters have been very cautious so far about who they allow to join, restricting their teaching to personally-chosen initiates only. When some of their secrets are not only leaked online, but are picked up by a well-known designer who plans to use them as the basis for a new videogame, however, they find themselves faced with two challenges. First, they need to discover which one of them (if it was one of them) revealed the secret teachings and decide how they should respond to that. Second, they realize that if the mysteries become part of a popular game, people will believe that the Cult was inspired by the game and not the other way around. It’s up to the Heroes to reconcile questions of publicity versus privacy and help their followers decide whether their religion should remain secret.



Again, this is just a taste of the chapter to come on Tuesday. Backers of this project will have access to the complete draft manuscript before the campaign ends and any pledges are processed and payments collected. So join our Backer Pantheon if you haven't already, and help us unlock our next Funding Achievement, which expands our Companion supplement for a third time, exploring mystic Realms.


At $100,000 in Funding – Scion: God Companion Supplement III – More on Realms! The Companion supplement will expand and clarify rules around Terra Incognita, Realms, and Sancta. Rules and guidance may include information on ruling over Realms, creating or destroying Realms, Realm Conditions, and Realm challenges.


Rhiannon Part II
over 1 year ago – Fri, Nov 04, 2022 at 10:46:21 AM

Hello Scions,

We're back for the second half of our Rhiannon story! We're also about to begin the back half of our campaign - we've got just under two weeks left before we reach the finish line. We're still in the quiet middle - the calm before the storm - so get ready for an exciting run to the end. Don't forget to tell your friends and friendly gamers about the campaign, and let's see if we can't hit another Stretch Goal over the weekend.

Speaking of the weekend, I'll have a couple of sneak peeks over the next two days as we get ready for our next manuscript drop on Tuesday. Remember, if you're a backer, you will be able to read the entire draft before we conclude the campaign. So join in if you haven't!


Rhiannon
III.


There weren’t many kin among her Pantheon she couldn’t get along with, but in a gun-to-her-head situation, she’d have no trouble claiming Ogma as her favorite. In retrospect, that was what got her into this mess in the first place: the Champion was a busy man, she owed him more than a few favors, and when his daughter came with ogham and offerings, Rhiannon saw no reason to decline.

She had reasons aplenty, now, but it was far too late for that.

Striding beside her all wind-burned cheeks and long blond beard, comfortable in denim and a military surplus field jacket, Ogma’s incarnation looked right at home on the show floor — just another good old boy looking to exercise his rights as an American. Rhiannon suspected that if it weren’t for his presence, she’d be getting a lot more dirty looks. It was a fair analogy for her presence in Tir na nóg, too — or in any of the Otherworlds where denizens were expecting a proper God. Mantle and dominion though she had, she was too young, too fresh. 

“Liked that old Renfield,” he confided in his pleasant, honey-smooth drawl, only a touch of the Emerald Isle in his words. “Might swing around again when the ugliness is done, see if it’s still listed. Hoping that wasn’t really Set I saw back there or we’ll have a bidding war.”

“And then good luck getting through the background check.” She grinned.

“We got our ways, don’t we? There’s the dossers now.”

Over the roiling sea of mortal lives and tables loaded with gunmetal and lead, she could see the weft of Fate puckering like a snarl in a sweater. Two tall, handsome men, their skin like burnished copper and their hair thick and curling, drifted from dealer to dealer, feigning interest but truly scanning the crowd for signs of divinity — for mediators from the Tuatha dé.

“Suspect Shamash and I’ll get on well,” Ogma said brightly.

“You’ve never met before?”

“And thank you for the acquaintance. This Nergal, though…”

But there was to be no more discussion, because the Annuna had found them.

Shamash appeared in a glossy incarnation, his dark hair neatly trimmed, his chin smooth, his suit practical but clearly expensive — the prototypical executive-hobbyist. His brother-in-law, the man of the hour, dressed wholly in black, his beard neatly trimmed and his curls touched with red. He looked more like a movie assassin than anything else. This informal summit may have been her idea, but the choice of venue… that was all Nergal.

They exchanged introductions and how-are-yous, Ogma’s smile never dimming, the Annuna brothers never losing that aura of vague distance. 

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us,” and Rhiannon added, “truly,” dipping her head and allowing deep sincerity to color her words. Finally, Shamash smiled. There’s no true blarney like deference to your elders.

“There’s a pub down the way,” Ogma suggested. “If you gentlemen are the type for a drink.”

“No, thank you.” Nergal’s words were deep, curt. “I would prefer to conduct this quickly.”

“Concerns over the behavior of your children have reached the red dome of Anu,” Shamash informed them, more softer-spoken than his brother-in-law but no less commanding.

“My children,” Ogma half-smiled, bemused, stroking his beard.

That night at the Valley of Refusal, when diplomacy failed and the fires of dissonance raged, the young Band of warriors chased the terrified cultists back into their vehicle; the negotiators of the Lady of Accord retired in shame at their failure; and Ethan Shields, son of Dian Cécht, paid for a lift to the Westchester Medical Center and began indignantly treating the ill himself. By morning, half the inpatients were out, and word came to both the Champion and Physician by way of a two-faced messenger: Nergal was furious at this subversion of his will.

Rhiannon would not tolerate an intertheological incident at her own oversight. But the Annuna seemed to have other plans.

“You have many Scions, don’t you?” Nergal’s glare gored into the two of them. “And this one seems a disappointment.”

“You mean Ellis McArthur,” Rhiannon asked, a little stunned at the outright hostility.

Ogma frowned. “I can’t say I know what she’s done to deserve a generational death sentence.”

“Nor can I say why there’s such a fuss over one distasteful young mortal.”

“Please,” Shamash broke in firmly with a raise of his hand. “If I may. My brother has shared his concerns with me, and I with him. It is not the mortal that concerns us, as it is the spread of her conduct — her disrespect. Familiar, are you, with the tales our allies in the southern sphere share of the firehawk?”

Ogma stroked his beard again and gave a noncommittal grunt.

“The birds that carry burning branches?” Rhiannon prompted, politely. 

Shamash did not honor her with a glance, but continued. “They take the smoking twigs into their beaks, conveying them to unburnt land. The flames harry their prey. They hunt within the inferno, heedless of the damage.”

“My demons will spread this plague the way your child spreads fire,” Nergal interjected with a smug sneer.

“Inferno,” Ogma snorted. “Whatever she’s done, it’s not as bad as all that. To kill her mother, and so many innocent bystanders—”

“No?” Nergal’s eyes flashed.

Too late, Rhiannon recognized his acid-bright rage. “What we mean is—” She tried to cut in.

“Not as bad?” The God of destruction continued over her. His eyes raked Ogma’s appearance. “If my brother and I had known the Children of Danu were unwashed idiots with no concept of filial piety, we would have declined this meeting outright.”

The fluorescent lighting overhead flickered and dimmed. Dark clouds passed over Ogma’s countenance.

Nergal was undisturbed — if anything, Ogma’s anger seemed to invigorate him. “My terms: your child pays with her life, and then my demons withdraw.”

“And if we destroy your manky demons instead?” Ogma’s voice was like a distant roll of thunder.

“My lords,” Rhiannon raised her voice, recognizing this was spinning rapidly out of control. “This isn’t a productive use of our time. Why don’t we—”

“You’re right,” Nergal snapped, still glaring at Ogma. “We have far better things to do.”

“Why not inspire some new epics,” Ogma suggested with a brightness that belied his stormy expression. “You made an awful hames of the ones I’ve heard.”

“You,” Nergal seethed. Shamash held him back with a hand on his chest.

“Give it another millennium, you’ll get the hang of it,” the God of speech encouraged, smiling.

It took only fifteen minutes, and negotiations broke down. 

IV.

“Thanks for nothing.”

The strikingly tall young woman with hair like black fire and eyes hard as stone stormed down from the library entrance hall, her heels falling like hammers on the tile floor.

“I didn’t…” The student-staff protested, devastated by her dismissal. “I tried…”

It was two in the morning on a Friday night, and the WCU Library was still as a graveyard. When the automatic doors parted like genuflecting serfs for the young Scion, her shoulder collided with another figure, the only other fool still working at this hour.

“Excuse me,” the firefighter said by way of apology. 

Tash shot her a grim stare and kept walking. 

The lone student behind the reception desk leapt to his feet at the sight of the emergency medical tech, keys jangling from his lanyard. “It’s the Jefferson Room,” he said without preamble. “She’s been in there for hours with the door locked. My key won’t even…” He trailed off into uselessness.

The stocky firefighter with the red hair thanked him brusquely.

“Do you want me to show you—?”

But she was already gone, striding away under the fluorescent lights.

Under her touch, the brushed metal doorhandle clicked and twisted. The Jefferson Room was rank with illness, proverbial bad air stinging the firefighter’s nose. There was only the long table here, the swivel chairs, and a single young woman. The study room table was defaced, one might say, but Rhiannon recognized the ogham runes tracing the circumference of the cheap laminate. In the center, Ellis McArthur lay stretched out like a corpse at the morgue. She was already halfway there, in truth — her health was failing slow and sure, the divine plague well-rooted within her.

I could end this all. Right here, right now.

The firefighter sat at her side, propped elbows on the table, and looked down into her pale face.

Ellis gestured weakly. “Thanks,” she groaned. She was sincere. Rhiannon thought to ask, What for? I failed you and everyone else, at every possible turn, but instead she said nothing.

“So this is it, right?” The young warrior-poet sighed. “This is what finally takes me out?”

“Not what you expected,” Rhiannon guessed.

She snorted. “I expected someone to get tired of my shit and stab me, or something. Um.” Her bluster faded in a rush. “Did you see Tash on the way in?”

“Looked like she had a job to do.”

Ellis groaned again. “You should’ve stopped her. Um.” Rather than blush at her impudence, she looked even greener. “I mean. Couldn’t you — no, uh — f-forgive my—”

“It’s all right.”

Should have. Could have. Won’t. The threat of inextricable bonds chained her down. Her own sensitivity to the myths of humanity left her bound and gagged and helpless to influence anything, anything at all.

They sat in grim silence. The firefighter took the girl’s cold, trembling hand in hers.

“It’s the only way, right?” Ellis asked, and for the first time her fear was obvious, bold in its presence.

She said nothing. It can’t be. It can’t be the only way.

“I guess that’s just… destiny.” The Scion’s chest shuddered with a sigh. “Tash told me all about the whole… Enkidu thing. I guess that’s me now.”

“How so?” The firefighter asked, vaguely curious through the racing of her mind.

“Cause we’re like—” Her face flushed again, and her pulse fluttered weakly under Rhiannon’s thumb. “I mean. We’re not. I never actually asked her.”

The firefighter managed a grin.

“Fuck it, I’m dying, aren’t I,” Ellis muttered. “I’m stupid about her.”

“I can tell,” the God said diplomatically.

“That’s why Nergal’s out to get me. Why this is all…” Her chest rose and fell with the effort of catching her breath. “Fate decided I get to be Enkidu.” She drew a finger across her pale throat.

Rhiannon frowned at the girl’s hand in hers, then lifted her green eyes to that ashen, sweating, lethally mortal face. “That’s not how it works.”

With effort, Ellis’s eyes found hers.

“Fate can’t tell you what you are.” Even as the words left her, she could feel them swelling like a new-lit candle. “It fuels what you could be.”

Ellis shook her head in bewilderment. But the Lady of Accord rose from her seat.

—beg my mother to forgive me, ran the ogham in loose, unmetered lines, winding under the failing body of Ogma’s daughter, and my heart-mate to forget me, though I carry her love like a bird into—

“And you can be something else.” The Goddess’s voice filled the room with warmth and light. “You must be.”

Clutched between Rhiannon’s gloves, Ellis’s wrist grew hot as a brand. The little room sweltered, the air wavered. The dying girl looked up at the Goddess with brightening eyes, confused but believing. Smoke trickled from the corner of her mouth. Ghostly green flames rose from her limbs.

And, really, Rhiannon thought with a private smile. There’s only one thing you can be.

It was a short flight to find Tash Turani. She glowed like a bronze beacon in the hospital parking lot, the remains of her grieving Band arrayed in formation behind her. The four were armed with relics and the zealous fury of the young. They raged atop a growing mound of slaughtered demons. Still more flooded forth from the night’s brume to attack them.

Veiled in smoke and light, Nergal loomed over the scene, all copper and shadows and blood. He watched with unconcerned interest, gesturing wave after wave of demons forward. The young warriors couldn’t see him, but still they screamed profanities at him, desperate to draw him out, to end it all one way or another.

There was no time to plan a clever entrance. 

“Ellis McArthur is dead,” Rhiannon announced, letting her voice precede her. 

A hundred emotions danced on the head of a pin — the pin that always drop in every important silence. A chorus of howls rose from the Band, but the God behind her was silent, calculating.

Rhiannon emerged from the deepness of the night, and the light posts surrounding blazed a brilliant emerald. Beside her, a new-made body gleamed. 

How do I look to them? She wondered. What kind of stories are they going to tell about this? After a moment, she decided, The kind I want to appear in.

“I’m gonna need a new name,” said the person beside her. She was light-boned and misleadingly petite, feathered in glossy black and green. Atop her head was a crest of pale red, and in her smile was the promise of flame.

“What the hell is this?” The Scion of Aries sputtered. 

Tash Turani approached with a careful pace and a wide-eyed stare. 

“The remains of your friend.” The Goddess gestured in presentation, as much for Nergal as for the young Scions. “She left behind a firehawk.”

“This isn’t—” Tash began, quiet and frightened.

“Would you just fucking rename me already so Nergal can hold up his end?” The firehawk snapped. “Shit. Did you want to fight another hundred-fifty monsters?”

The Incarnation of Gilgamesh broke into a slow, joyful smile.

Nergal’s anger hit Rhiannon like a wave of stench, the smell of the sick and dying. His hate burned between her shoulder blades. The sound of gibbering retreat echoed in her ears. The weight of the plague lifted from her psyche.

Rhiannon swelled with pride, and knew that she, too, had been transformed. 

Rhiannon Part I
over 1 year ago – Wed, Nov 02, 2022 at 08:51:12 AM

Hello Scions,

We are right in the middle of this campaign, where things usually quiet down a bit. Although there was a lot of interest after yesterday's Pantheon chapter post, so I don't know that the rules always apply to Scion campaigns!

In addition to reminding everyone about our next Funding Achievement Target, I want to share some more of the fiction that will be included in the final book. This next one is called Rhiannon, and is told in 4 parts. It's a bit too long if I share it all at once, so instead I'll split it in half and add a little blurb and spread it over a few days.

So, first up, a note that we're closing in on our SEVENTH Stretch Goal, adding even more new content to the Scion: God Companion book, with a section delving into Realms and the geography of the gods! Let's see if we can unlock this before our next manuscript section!


At $100,000 in Funding – Scion: God Companion Supplement III – More on Realms! The Companion supplement will expand and clarify rules around Terra Incognita, Realms, and Sancta. Rules and guidance may include information on ruling over Realms, creating or destroying Realms, Realm Conditions, and Realm challenges.

And now, back to the first half of our story.




Rhiannon


I.

The part-timer at Sheedy’s switched on the neon signs, flipped the sign to “Open,” and unlocked the front doors. It was a formality, really: he’d not see a soul for another hour. Not even the crustiest of regulars could justify stopping in on a Tuesday at one in the afternoon, and their biggest crowd of usuals — the fine men and women of Engine Company No. 2, Station 12 — would only be by after their shift change.

So he might be forgiven for missing the chime of the door, for failing to notice his young patron entirely until she was standing at the polished wood-top bar. She had a nose like a beak and the attitude of someone who’d been scowling since birth, her pale and heavily-freckled face sour with impatience.

The part-timer studied the youthful luster of her blue eyes. “Can I see I.D.?” He asked placidly, skipping the niceties.

With an exasperated groan, she fished into the pocket of her kelly green trackpants for a battered bifold, rainbow-striped and Sharpie-scribbled. There was a sixty percent chance the license was fake, but the part-timer decided that remaining forty wasn’t worth the fight — not at one p.m. on a Tuesday. The girl’s quick eyes glanced over the taps; she asked for two pints of bourbon stout and a stack of napkins, smoothing a crumpled ten over the countertop.

“Not the Guinness?” The part-timer asked.

“Did I say Guinness,” came her acidic retort.

He raised his hands in half-hearted self-defense. Handling the pints in one hand — a real pro — she took her drinks to a corner booth, under the battered old “FIRE STATION NO. 12” sign, where she sat alone, tracing lines and dashes into the frost of the glass.

Gods help him, he forgot about her again, until the sound of liquid splashing against the hardwood-laminate drew his attention.

“—and honor me as I do thee,” her words were barely audible over the splattering. “Fire-Soother, hear my plea.”

“Hey!” He barked at her over the bar. “What the hell?”

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized loudly, even as she tilted one of the pint glasses to empty it upon the floor. “I’ll get it.”

“None of that shit in here, that’s what temples are for.” The part-timer jabbed his finger toward the exit, customer service be damned. “I’m gonna have to ask you to—”

He’d missed another one: a stocky, square-jawed woman, tattoos peeking from under her sleeves, bent languidly over his bar. She must’ve been fresh from a long, late shift: she was still in her khaki-colored bunker pants and her thick, steel-reinforced boots. The firefighter folded her strong hands on the countertop, a curious look in her green eyes.

“Oh. Hey. Sorry about that, ma’am.” The part-timer blinked at her. Any embers of anger lingering in his face began rapidly to cool. “I.D.?”

She winked. “You’re sweet. Pint’a bourbon stout.”

The girl hurriedly shoved her lump of stout-soaked napkins under the booth table. Hands trembling, she sank into the squeaking leather seat. The firefighter came to join her as if they knew each other, as if she’d been expected. 

Technically, both these things were true.

“Hey there,” the woman in the bunker pants greeted her in a warm, rough voice. “Thanks for the pint.”

The girl’s dark eyebrows knit, her eyes fixed on the tabletop between them. “Lady of Accord,” she mumbled, strange and stilted. “Rhiannon Fire-Soother, my honest entreaty I lay before—"

“No need for all that,” the firefighter assured her. “We’re meeting for drinks, so let’s talk like it.”

The girl exhaled in a huge gust, her shoulders loosening, her face shining with relief. “Thank the Gods. I hate that flowery prayer shit.”

Divine laughter filled the empty pub. “Ellis, right?”

Ellis nodded, finally daring to look the firefighter in the eye.

“Ogma’s girl.” She smiled, the kind of smile that did away with even the most stubborn reticence. “No surprise there, I see your gift for words. I don’t suppose it’s gotten you into trouble lately?”

She needed no confirmation, but Ellis gave it anyway with a hesitant nod. 

The Worldly Incarnation of Rhiannon, Goddess of Truces and Diplomacy, read the girl’s adherence to order and goodwill like a glance at an open book. There wasn’t much to see. Trouble was charitable — dissonance bled from the young Scion like a persistent wound. It was inextricable, interwoven with her very soul. 

If she’s so used to causing problems, this must be a big one to come asking for me.

Ogma’s daughter took a deep breath. “Nergal started a plague to kill me.”

The firefighter snorted into her drink, her dark red eyebrows climbing her forehead. 

II.

She’d never liked the name they arrived at: the Valley of Refusal. The canyon of bare, jagged rock and emerald moss stretched toward the horizon under her sharp green eyes. It stood in contrast to her own memory, faded and strange and divided against itself. She died that day, laid open by a spear thrown by Bres himself, her wound absolute and fatal. She lived that day, wrapped in the Mantle of Accord like an inverse burial shroud, her right of retaliation waived, the cycle of violence ended. 

The World was as distant to her now as it was beloved. Walking its roads and speaking to its inhabitants was like wading through a river in full PPE — the destinies of the entire World weighed her down on every step, muffled her every word. 

Heavy or not, even Fate couldn’t keep her behind a desk. 

She let the driver-side door of the Charger slam behind her and leaned against it with her arms crossed. Exiting opposite, a tall and somber man with a broad, brown forehead squinted into the late afternoon sun: Ethan Shields, a Scion of Dian Cécht. Excluding the prideful God of medicine would’ve caused yet another problem to smooth over, so she’d made sure to head that situation off at the pass. If Ethan suspected his ride-share driver was a God incarnate, he said nothing, but he certainly wasn’t in a rush to pay her and see her off. He slipped on his cotton medical mask, gave her a grateful nod, and joined the pair of mortals waiting patiently by their own ride: members of the IAFF Local 68, a union-turned-secular cult to the Lady of Accord. Stalwart, compassionate, absolutely dogged negotiators, the husband-and-wife pair were figures of quiet infamy within their district. Rhiannon had personally maneuvered for them to be here.

It wasn’t long before a beat-up sedan roared into view, tires spinning over the gravel. Even if the boisterous Scion of Ogma hadn’t been there to help them pick fights, this was a Band destined for trouble. They were all of them young adults and all of them warriors: children of Lugh, Aries, Ītzpāpālōtl, the whole lot led by an Incarnation of Gilgamesh. Ichor and muscle steeled within her, but the ride-share driver’s face remained impassive. Colorless flame roared around the young Scions in an aura of passions, conflict, hurt; their faces, each so different, were lined with identical worries and rage beneath their medical masks.

Two of them were infected. Judging by the stage of the disease — pinpricks of pale green and yellow surrounding them in a corona only a healer could see — they had no idea they were carriers. And they’re not alone, Rhiannon mused. Nergal’s plague demons were notoriously indiscriminate. A third of the county had come down with whatever the God had created, with who knows who else working as unintentional carriers. All in the hopes of making an example of young Ellis McArthur.

The gall of an Annuna. The driver sighed, hiding her balled-up fists in the folds of her jacket.

“Oh, they’re late?” The Scion of Lugh sneered, tossing long black hair from their eyes.

“We can wait a little longer,” one of the mortal negotiators assured them, her shrewd gaze searching the Band. She covered her mouth and nose with the collar of her jacket.

“Rude, isn’t it, Tash?” The Scion of Aries giggled, her voice crackling with malice. 

“We can wait.” Tash, the Annuna Scion, asserted herself with a gentle air of command, crossing her arms over her slick, designer-label blouse. For not the first time, Rhiannon wondered at her part in this. It certainly wasn’t the first time a companion of Gilgamesh had been marked for death by her Pantheon.

So, wait they did… for a full hour beyond the appointed time. The young Band paced, fidgeted, and all but broke out into a fight amongst themselves. Ethan checked his watch with increasing frequency. Even the two negotiators wavered between resignation and uneasiness.

“Fuck this,” the Scion of Aries declared. “Sun’s going down. Let’s get out of here already.” 

Ellis’s blue eyes widened in alarm. “We’re giving up? This was the last chance we had to—”

“There was no chance, El,” Aries’s daughter snapped. “They’re jerking us around.”

As natural as breathing, the Lady of Accord could feel the expression of her purviews ripple and flex around her. The Long Wait was a diplomatic trick older than writing itself and she wasn’t going to let it get the better of them. You can stay, a little longer.

“A little longer,” Tash echoed without realizing, tossing her mane of curly black hair and focusing with laser-like intensity on the dissenting members of her Band. They grumbled, heels scuffing against the gravel.

As if in response, the crush of tires on rock hailed them from down the unpaved road. Headlights veered toward them. An old SUV the color of mud parked uncomfortably close. 

She recognized Nergal’s cultists by the tug of destiny alone. The air thrummed at their arrival, and the Valley of Refusal glowed green and black in the last of the sunlight. The motley group of four piled out in coordinated effort, their faces boldly bare, their bodies free of the disease their God had unleashed. Ethan tensed, as if their presence alone raked at his senses. The warrior Band arranged themselves in a loose formation behind their leader.

“Sorry for the wait,” the lead cultist purred, her pale eyes dancing.

“Like hell you are—” The Scion of Aries blurted. Tash gave her a withering look and Ellis smacked her in the shoulder.

“It’s no trouble,” the husband of the mortal negotiators assured them. “We’re just eager to begin.”

“So are we.” The cult woman folded her hands in front of her impeccable tan trench coat. “The demands of our Contentious Lord are as follows: the Scion of the Tuatha dé’s Champion, and her immediate family, will fall ill, suffer, and die. The reborn Gilgamesh will recant her shameful behavior and refuse to associate with any Scion outside the Annuna. Then Lord Nergal will lift the plague and recall his demons.”

“No one’s dying,” came a snarl from the young Band, followed by some choice, acidic language. 

“Let us handle this,” one of Rhiannon’s faithful insisted, raising her voice.

Her own endless power itched at the back of her mind, beckoned to her with the promise of victory. I could handle this myself. I could end this so quickly. So perfectly. 

“Then handle it,” the Scion of Aries was snarling. “Tell them we’re not about to let anyone die from some ancient Egyptian plague!”

“Sumerian,” Ellis corrected, scowling.

“These demands are His demands,” the cultist of Nergal declared, her face serene and her eyes absolutely wicked.

Rhiannon opened her mouth, words on the tip of her tongue.

The weave of fate tightened around her, and The World watched with bated breath.

She was young, once, in another life. She’d been a Scion; she’d been part of a Band. She had faced her share of trials… horrible, at times unbearable. She had lost so much to the flames, to the Titans, to the endless grinding gears of the modern World. She lost even more at her dying, lost pieces of herself. She had wondered why the Gods never acted.

How much more of her self would the strange machinations of legend snatch away, were she to act upon The World now?

The ride-share driver closed her mouth without a word, and fifteen minutes later negotiations broke down.

To be continued...