Vansin

Constans came to realize that COTH knew how to party. Manon's sword had set it all loose. People had screamed, thrown their hats in the air, grabbed each other and danced. And of course they did-- they'd seen a miracle. Church on the Hill seemed to be full of miracles. And elves. And giants, as it turned out-- four huge icy men who ate more than anyone. It didn't matter, the late afternoon was awash with beams of warm yellow light. Clouds rippled like ocean waves overhead and the music of the men below seemed to ride them, far into the distance. On the ground, the dust shook with the pounding of feet as stomping dancers and skittish animals carved their legacies into the earth. Their lives seemed to sweat off of them, dripping into the thirsty ground as they shed themselves and joined the pulsing life of the party. Together, their voices transformed into a ceaseless din, a constant hum of so many songs and conversations. And above it all was Constans. He could smell them, all the people below. He watched them and found that as they passed each other, jostling for food and exchanging dance partners and running off to secret places, he couldn't seem to follow any one of them. They bled together, a mass of oily, tanned muscles; strange simple beasts from another world- Constans blinked. Again. These thoughts. Why did he keep having these awful thoughts?! He rose from his seat, and regretted it immediately. An accordion whined to a halt. People stopped dancing at once. Everyone began turning toward him. He realized he hadn't gotten up once the entire feast. How long had he been sitting there? Had anyone tried to talk to him? Would he have heard them over the wild revelry? "I..." he began. He what? He thought they were all animals? What did they want him to say? He hadn't thought that! He'd just...the thought had just...in his head... "I don't think god has heard you yet! I think you have to do it louder!" he shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth and throwing it at them with a laugh. The crowd cheered and guffawed, and the musicians leaned back into their instruments. The party began again, and the smile dropped off of Constans' face like a splash of water. He looked down at his hands, and cupped them. In the bowl of the cup, where no one below his raised dais could see, he made fire. It was a little thing, a green speck of life that fluttered so tenderly. He looked at it, at the liquid green color. It was the color of his awful thoughts he was looking at, he knew. Green. Like a green eye watching. He closed his fists. He had no idea what it meant. The strange feeling vanished quickly. As though he had taken the wax out of his ears, he suddenly could hear the party again. He looked at the smiling faces and wondered if he'd really thought those things anyway. Maybe he'd just had too much to drink? He ran his fingers over the short shape of hair that was beginning to grow over his formerly bald head. It felt stiff and he liked running his hands over it. At first he thought it made him feel better, then he realized it hadn't. Constans descended down the staircase on the side of the raised wooden platform whereupon the high table sat and he walked away from the main throng of revelers. The sun was gathering its light at the end of the day, but still throwing pale pink beams across the sky. The sight of it nearly brought tears to his eyes. There was nowhere in the town that was entirely empty, yet the homes and pathways between were eerily silent. That was what Constans wanted. Silence. He stopped walking in the middle of the road. He tried not to think about anything. He just breathed for a long time.

My friend and I dabble in photography and video editing. Hence the tripod, and the flattering picture:

@supernal FOR YOUR CANONIZATION CONSIDERATION: VENOM SIGNS A full summary: Church on the Hill, or COTH as it is commonly called, is a growing town in Terrenus just beyond the domain of Blairville. For many years, the eponymous church stood alone atop the highest hill in the region. It was once the center of a populous parish in the ages before the great cities of Terrenus came to dominate political and social life. However, in more recent ages the church stood as more a watchtower and repository of old knowledge than as a hub of community. The Gaian religion, to whom the church originally belonged, grew lax in replacing deceased clergymen as the church waned in importance until the building was occupied by a mere single man who was forced to live off scant alms and the generosity of local farmers and friends. This man's name was Constans, and though he prayed every day to the great mother of his religion, he had long given up hope that his faith would be rewarded. Times changed, as they are wont to do, and the Church on the Hill bore witness to even further degradation. In the wake of a faraway civil war the patrolmen. nobility, constabulary, and military of Terrenus receded away from the rural lands the church stood watch over, abandoning the fertile farms and meager hovels of its agrarian people. Once the protection of the nobles and their armies were gone, evil began to take root. Monsters and beasts not seen for years began to creep from the deep places of the world, and men turned on each other in banditry and violence. The people cried up to the sky and down to the earth, but found no peace. Meanwhile, Constans watched in horror as families dragged corpses by their hundreds to his church for burial. Starved men and women, murdered children. The peaceful age was ending. Yet one fateful night, a tearful Constans called out to anyone who would hear, any god or great spirit who would ease the suffering of the people and of one broken priest. Miraculously, his call was answered. A great fire exploded inside the church, blowing the very roof off the building and blasting a column of mystical green fire into the sky like a beacon. Among the flames, Constans fell victim to a fit of great and terrible visions portending the rise of a new world. For hours, the priest was held in the clutches of these mad prophesies, all the while safe inside the tornado of green flames. When it was over, and the flames subsided, word began to spread across the land. Those who had seen the miracle had rushed to witness it themselves, and had seen the priest among the flames. Others, hearing secondhand stories, flocked to the ruins of the old church to hear the preaching of a holy man who had been chosen by green fire. He preached a message of a new social order in which the people worked for their own good and organized under no higher authority than that of a god. Men were weak, the priest proclaimed, and their promises were illusions. Only the power of a god could be relied upon to hold together a mortal realm. He encouraged his followers to work and share in equal measure, to respect each other's property and freedom, while submitting themselves to the will of a divine monarch-- not some self appointed human king claiming to speak for a god, but a king who was a god, and an authority which no man could undo. It was not long before this appealing promise of protection and community drew huge crowds of abandoned farmers, cobblers, blacksmiths, porters, cooks, healers, herdsmen, and laborers. Seeing himself at a crossroads of destiny, and urged by the whispers of a god, Constans proclaimed the masses of scared commonfolk to be one sanctified people, the people of COTH, the seed of the new world. [excerpt taken from the new thread, Church On The Hill] From there, he began to organize the people and protect them from the agents of the nearby cities, who still sought to collect dues from the people even after abandoning them. Eventually, he chose to organize a feast to honor a new chosen warrior of his god. Constans also became aware of another voice inside his mind, one with thoughts unlike his own. Joining Constans thus far: Manon, another chosen representative of the new god. Considered the first paladin of the church, this remarkable young woman acts as protector and adviser to the priest. COTH has an agreement with the esteemed booksellers and loremasters of Book|Ends, who have arrived to advise Constans as he seeks to develop COTH into a model society that can inspire a world-spanning change in religion, morality, governance, and civilization. A tribe of Ice Giants, led by the mysterious Yahweh, has also made a pact of nonaggression and mutual aid with COTH, and their embassy hosts a quartet of hulking giants who smith for and protect the fledgling town. A minor summary: In this thread we see the rise of COTH, Church on the Hill, a community of abandoned common folk flocking to the only source of authority left in their land: a prophetic priest named Constans. Wielding divine green fire, Constans awes and commands the people to begin creating a new town. He is quickly joined by interesting personalities such as ice giants, elves, and other heroes chosen by his new god. Together, they plot a grand destiny for COTH. Notable consequences: The establishment of COTH via widely seen magical column of green fire stretching into the night-time sky of northern terrenus, the pact of friendship with the ice giants, the arrival of the BookEnds elves, the discovery of Manon, who can wield the green fire god's power, and the beginning of the feast in her honor. Also, a divine smiting of a trio of cruel Blairville horsemen (intent on collecting taxes despite having abandoned their duties to the people). Opportunities: The establishment of a new faction, and the beginning of a feast.

COTH The town of Church On The Hill The History: 4/18 Church on the Hill, or COTH as it is commonly called, is a growing town in Terrenus just beyond the domain of Blairville. For many years, the eponymous church stood alone atop the highest hill in the region. It was once the center of a populous parish in the ages before the great cities of Terrenus came to dominate political and social life. However, in more recent ages the church stood as more a watchtower and repository of old knowledge than as a hub of community. The Gaian religion, to whom the church originally belonged, grew lax in replacing deceased clergymen as the church waned in importance until the building was occupied by a mere single man who was forced to live off scant alms and the generosity of local farmers and friends. This man's name was Constans, and though he prayed every day to the great mother of his religion, he had long given up hope that his faith would be rewarded. Times changed, as they are wont to do, and the Church on the Hill bore witness to even further degradation. In the wake of a faraway civil war the patrolmen. nobility, constabulary, and military of Terrenus receded away from the rural lands the church stood watch over, abandoning the fertile farms and meager hovels of its agrarian people. Once the protection of the nobles and their armies were gone, evil began to take root. Monsters and beasts not seen for years began to creep from the deep places of the world, and men turned on each other in banditry and violence. The people cried up to the sky and down to the earth, but found no peace. Meanwhile, Constans watched in horror as families dragged corpses by their hundreds to his church for burial. Starved men and women, murdered children. The peaceful age was ending. Yet one fateful night, a tearful Constans called out to anyone who would hear, any god or great spirit who would ease the suffering of the people and of one broken priest. Miraculously, his call was answered. A great fire exploded inside the church, blowing the very roof off the building and blasting a column of mystical green fire into the sky like a beacon. Among the flames, Constans fell victim to a fit of great and terrible visions portending the rise of a new world. For hours, the priest was held in the clutches of these mad prophesies, all the while safe inside the tornado of green flames. When it was over, and the flames subsided, word began to spread across the land. Those who had seen the miracle had rushed to witness it themselves, and had seen the priest among the flames. Others, hearing secondhand stories, flocked to the ruins of the old church to hear the preaching of a holy man who had been chosen by green fire. He preached a message of a new social order in which the people worked for their own good and organized under no higher authority than that of a god. Men were weak, the priest proclaimed, and their promises were illusions. Only the power of a god could be relied upon to hold together a mortal realm. He encouraged his followers to work and share in equal measure, to respect each other's property and freedom, while submitting themselves to the will of a divine monarch-- not some self appointed human king claiming to speak for a god, but a king who was a god, and an authority which no man could undo. It was not long before this appealing promise of protection and community drew huge crowds of abandoned farmers, cobblers, blacksmiths, porters, cooks, healers, herdsmen, and laborers. Seeing himself at a crossroads of destiny, and urged by the whispers of a god, Constans proclaimed the masses of scared commonfolk to be one sanctified people, the people of COTH, the seed of the new world. The Thread Setting: COTH is an open, persistent locale characters can freely enter or leave as they like. COTH itself is a 25 square mile area which includes a town of approximately 3000 arranged at the base of a tall hill upon which sits the famous, half destroyed church. COTH has a small-town feel. People are familiar with each other, helpful, and oftentimes oblivious to subtlety. The townsfolk are overwhelmingly derived from the lowest rung on the social order of Terrenus. Many have never seen magitech, or magic for that matter, yet what they lack in formal education they make up for in skill and spirit. They are working class people, and their work has helped the town of COTH spring up around the ruined church with alarming speed. Rather than have individual threads, I have elected to tell all stories in and around COTH in this single thread. This will give the town a sense of continuity and permanency, in the hope that actions taken by one player can impact the experiences of others. Often, stories told in COTH will be submitted for canonization, and canon events will be featured here in the first post to help inform newcomers and regulars of developing events. Resident Characters: Alongside Constans stands Manon, another chosen representative of the new god. Considered the first paladin of the church, this remarkable young woman acts as protector and adviser to the priest. COTH has an agreement with the esteemed booksellers and loremasters of Book|Ends, who have arrived to advise Constans as he seeks to develop COTH into a model society that can inspire a world-spanning change in religion, morality, governance, and civilization. A tribe of Ice Giants, led by the mysterious Yahweh, has also made a pact of nonaggression and mutual aid with COTH, and their embassy hosts a quartet of hulking giants who smith for and protect the fledgling town. These character can be found in the town, and their writers are invested with moderator authority within this thread. If I am not around to ask questions, please contact one of them. At the Present: A feast! We are happy to open COTH to the wide world of Valucre. Currently, we are hosting a grand feast in honor of Manon. The feast is the culmination of her investment ceremony as the first paladin of the church. Any characters in the north of Terrenus may have heard of the small town of COTH and its miraculous, green-flame wielding priest. Those who arrive now will be welcomed to join a night of food, drink and revelry. It is my hope that anyone who falls for the small-town charms of COTH will elect to occupy one of the newly built homesteads and help this thread truly live as an active landmark of Terrenus. It will continuously grow in size and influence, so those who arrive early will be considered for positions of authority and responsibility under the church. If you are interested, please message me anytime. Otherwise, enjoy home cooked food, the strongest Ice Giant ale you can find this side of winter, and the hospitality of COTH! Feast Quest Seeds (for inspiration!): -The Rap Battle: Book|Ends manager Draug, a fan of poetry, offers a prize for a battle of wits. One must out-insult their opponent, preferably in rhyme, to win a free book and a bag of coppers. Questor 1: [Open!] Questor 2: [Open!] -The Psychic Goat: A billy goat known for its exceptional tenacity and insatiable apetite found his way into the Book|Ends caravan, where he consumed half of the instructional manual Telekinesis and Me. Now temporarily granted the ability to move objects with his mind, the goat has become a disruptive nuisance. Feed the goat a potion to cancel out the magical effects and save the festival cooks. Questor: [Open!] -Help With the Chickens: As a result of larger-than-expected turnout, old Wylda asks your character to go grab some chickens from her coop at the edge of town. While scrambling to grab the flighty birds, your character finds them-self face to face with a snarling dire-wolf from the wilds. Questor: [Open!] -Familiar Trinket: As you enter COTH your character finds a discarded green chess piece, a bishop. For so long as you keep the piece on your person, everyone in town you meet seems to know you by name already, despite having never met you before. Questor: [Open!] -First Clash of COTH: Egged on by the rowdy crowd, two characters face off in a sticksword fight in front of the roaring bonfire. The winner receives a beautiful green gemstone in the rough and the title "Champion of the Feast"! Questor 1: [Open!] Questor 2: [Open!]

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That makes sense, I figured canonization would just happen as we moved forward. I don't know the particulars of the process. Honestly I've just kept posting in my thread because new people keep joining the plot and I figure I can just keep going until everyone else hits 2 pages. Should I stop the thread and get it made canon?

So, any word on a timeline for the next phase?

Constans threw his hand out gladly, giving the elf a tight shake to seal their arrangement. Unlike his agreement with Yahweh and the ice giants, Constans feared little entering this arrangement. The elves asked for food and shelter, not some shared prominence on a world stage. Was it the sheltered young man in him that saw elves as too far removed from mortal life to care about politics? No, it was something deeper. He felt like he had known elves before...except he hadn't. But somehow he knew that the long lives of elves trended toward boredom. Longevity was a curse without the fire excitement brought to life. Good elves eventually became misanthropes, and bad elves eventually became murderers. Elves who were still interested in anything else just hadn't decided which they'd become yet. Those, Constans knew, were the useful elves. He blinked at this awful revelation. It was so bitter. Had it really come from him? He composed himself and looked into Draug's eyes. "My...doctrine, yes. My doctrine is temporal freedom guided by divine rule. A man can rule his family as he sees fit, so long as he obeys god. And god's wishes are direct: liberation from abuse, from exploitation, from the sort of tyranny that left all these people," he said, nodding at the world that was growing out from his little town, "without a sword to defend them or a king to lead them. These people came here because all mortal authority fled. But that's the nature of mortal rule. It's fleeting. It needs be replaced by something permanent." They began to walk. Constans offered his arm to Manon, that she might walk with her arm threaded through his. It was a way to silently mark her importance. Surely, when the people saw them walking arm-in-arm, they would know that she was chosen. And indeed, the people noticed. They peeked their heads out of the tent flaps as they passed. They stopped what they were doing on the sides of the road and lowered their eyes as the small band progressed toward the center of the feast. Women exclaimed praise toward the god of Constans, and he smiled upon them. His eyes shone. Tables had been set up and down the hill, with Constans' at the highest. There were seats aplenty for his guests: for Manon, for Draug, for Ioreth, for Yahweh even, though he was not yet in attendance. The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky. It's burning eye watched as they folk of Church-on-the-Hill amassed before Constans' high table. He had given speeches and sermons aplenty by now, and they knew that such a celebration as this could only begin by his word. Constans led his party to their seats and whispered to Draug and Ioreth, "If you really want to know the destiny of my people, listen closely." And from there he led Manon to the forefront. The crowd, until now chattering away at itself like one large gurgling creature, silenced. Constans looked at Manon's blue eyes, then snapped his head to the crowd. His hand flew into the air, fingers spread wide, even while the other hand still held her close. "Tonight!" he said, and let the word hang in the air. Tonight. Tonight? "Tonight! We are gathered here in celebration. Together we will eat and drink and make merriment until the sun rises anon. And when we have done this we will rest, sated by the good food and made tired by some of the finest drink I've tasted in a long while-- you're going to love that stuff!" he said, laughing, and the crowd cheered with him. The brewer whooped with pride. "Enjoy it, because we cannot feast in this way every night. We can't just celebrate our lives away. Not in the midst of the danger, the chaos, the violence which we have all seen. Each of you, in your way, has experienced loss, or fear, or heartbreak because you were abandoned by those who were supposed to protect you. That's why you're here. That's who we are: the forgotten ones, the discarded ones." He sighed, and lowered his hand. "That's what we've been made into, isn't it? Old tools, unwanted. Like the shears you threw to the ground when the bandits came to burn your houses. Like the hammers and shovels you left behind to gather your families when they made you run! Where were the people who took all the bounty of your hard work then? Where were the swords? Where were the shields? Where were the promises of peace they traded while they took the food from your children's mouths?! I cannot see them!" he cried, and as his voice raised, the cries of his people raised with them. "I cannot hear those promises anymore! I cannot find those soldiers they sent to protect me! I cannot see the strong walls they built with the wealth we gave them, because they did not build those walls around us. They built them around themselves! They built them around their tall towers, around their granaries where they kept the fruits of your labor! They built them to protect the people they loved-- while the people you loved died!" "But those walls were built by the stones you quarried, built by your calloused hands with the mortar you spread over every block! Their food was grown in your fields, for god's sake! So while you're eating the bounty of this feast, which you prepared for yourself, remember that everything you will ever need you already have! Your hard work! Your pious spirit! Your honest souls! Give them to each other in brotherhood, and never again to false promisers! Let no man tell you that he can guide you better than god can! And god says: reap what you sow! Eat what you grow! Give to those who need, and never to those who demand! And welcome all those who show his divine sign!" Constans turned again to Manon. He reached his hand to the side and, pre-arranged, a young girl ran up and placed a sword in his hand. He drew it from its sheath and held it aloft. "This woman beside me is Manon, who has come to join us here on the Hill. She came with a special gift. If, when I place this sword in her hand, god wills her to be with us, then let us proclaim her the first knight of the church! She is a guardian promised by an authority higher than any king! Let her be called Paladin! To her, look for safety! To her, look for peace! Pray that god will guide her! Pray that she will help guide us all!" And then, he handed the sword to Manon. The rest was history.

I sent a friend request to you on discord but haven’t seen a response. I would be interested in this, depending on where you’d like to go with it. Hit me up on discord if you’d like my participation.

Constans beamed. "No trouble at all, fair lady. Only, promise not to judge me too harshly for my penmanship. I've spent more of life reading than I have writing. Though, admittedly, I do much less of either now. Instead, I am concerned chiefly with this!" Constans threw his arms out, inviting them to consider not just the church but the hill and the dirt paths beaten from the boots of hundreds of people, the homesteads and the livestock, the fresh-plowed fields and the pavilions that had been set up for Manon's festival. More than that, it seemed as though he were presenting to the fey pair the grass and the trees too, and the rocks and rivers and even the skies of the whole world. And if he was presenting all that, he presented this also: not a place but a time, a brief and delicate intersection of mortality and divinity; community, opportunity, destiny. Together they hung like a chick on its first flight from the nest, in that exultant moment before any wind catches its shaking wings when there is no way of knowing whether it will fly or plummet to its death. But Constans knew. "You see, the scripture is not why I asked you here. The scripture is the payment." He let that hang in the air for a moment, searching their faces with his liquid green eyes. "And the services I'd like rendered for that payment are in the form of your continued company, and your participation in a number of schemes by which I mean to bend these simple people around a doctrine advocating what is virtuous, and forbidding what does ill to man-- or elf." he added quickly, "With your help, I would shape these people that they might serve as an example to all people, in all places what joy and courage can be found in a free life of dignity, guaranteed by divine will. Sir, Lady, a god has put us here, here." he said jabbing his hand toward the ground, the church ground whereupon he was chosen and invested by fire and sorcery with memories of the future, "And he has given us all one life apiece to see his change wrought." "I have to use mine to spread his religion across the world. I owe it to him, to myself. I have to try. But I don't know how." He hesitated, not sure he wanted Manon to hear him say this. He was less concerned about the elves. He was a child in their eyes, and somehow this freed him from their judgement. "Or, rather, I know what I would do. But I know little about how it has been done before. I would benefit from not only your personal experiences, but from the wealth of testimony your books can bring from ages past-- so your books, and counsel, and some help with a few tasks. This is what I would exchange for my scripture, the first binding of which I will put in your hands once it is complete."

Entry 2: Rusalkee The Rusalkee are a sisterhood of aquatic creatures who take the shape of haunting women with white, featureless eyes. While all Rusalkee are bound to a particular pond, lake, or stream they are nonetheless famous for their stunning knowledge of faraway events, forbidden lore, and salacious secrets. Wrongly considered by many to be helpful water spirits, Rusalkee are in fact voracious consumers of blood and magic whose carnal hungers are subservient only to their megalomaniacal impulse to influence the world beyond their placid waters. Because of this, they will serve as advisers to those they believe can shape events on a grand scale: leaders, heroes, villains, and possessors of strange gifts. Those who encounter them but do not pique their interest are never heard from again. In appearance an individual Rusalkee seems to be a young women, shamelessly nude, with long wet hair that reaches well past her knees. Her eyes have no iris, nor pupil. When submerged in water, a Rusalkee either becomes one with the liquid, or at least turns invisible. The image of a Ruskalkee treading into her water, disappearing as she submerges, enticing some young fool to join her, features prominently in many classical tragedies. Over millennia, Rusalkee from different lands have changed to fit their diverse environs, below are a few samples of these diverse breeds. Medusoid - Medusoid Rusalkee live deep in wild jungles and prefer to lurk near the ruins of ancient civilizations, preferably ones they personally had a hand in destroying. Styling themselves lone queens and empresses, Medusoids hold court over hundreds of obedient serpents. Their realms are littered with the bones of prey their venomous retainers have fetched for them. They delight in faux civility in the presence of new and interesting intruders, though their repulsive nature cannot help but leak through the facade. In accordance with their royal pretenses, Medusoids interest themselves most with fomenting political turmoil, and the strongest boast collections of crowns they have dislodged from the heads of dead kings. They are best suited to aid revolutions and coups, have an encyclopedic knowledge of political history, and can be bargained with to reveal compromising secrets of high officials and lords. Their price is always the same: for each secret or scrap of advice, a "hostage" which the Medusoid promises to return at a later time. Very quickly, bargainers begin to realize that those they give over disappear into the jungle mists never to return, while the court of snakes that surround these jungle tyrants only ever seems to grow. Yacurunæ - [TBC]

When they erected the statue of Constans, priest and patriarch, it would be one with his legs set squarely apart, his arms akimbo, and his eyes looking out toward destiny. Indeed, exactly how he stood now. For it truly was destiny which approached him, and in no stranger a guise than it usually did, here in the shape of elves. This was not to say that Constans had ever met elves before. Indeed they were extraordinary to him. Yet every step on his holy path had been extraordinary-- the fire, the prophesies, the people, Manon...they had all conspired to create in Constans a dual nature of extreme deference to that great conspirator above it all: his god, while also fueling a steadfast belief in the purposefulness of his existence. He couldn't speak for anyone else, but he was on Valucre for a reason. He knew it, and it showed. Like sunlight shining from between his smiling teeth, it showed. Through his exultant voice, it showed. From his renewed good looks, now returned to their prime, it showed. He was energetic, excited-- perhaps too much so for a ruler, for he could not wait and met the elves part-way up the hill. "I am Constans!" he confirmed, "And I did request that you call upon me here, yes, very good!" Despite having descended the hill somewhat, the excited human beckoned the elves to follow him back up it. "No doubt you have heard by now the tale of this ruined church?" he assumed, but then proceeded to explain it anyways, " I stood right...there." he said, punctuating with a stab of his finger at the fire-blasted room in the church's center, where once he had prayed. "And suddenly, flames engulfed me." he continued, as they walked to the hilltop and up to the church entrance. They stopped here. "For hours, I'm told. I recall none of the experience save for the divine visions and portents I was subjected to during it. Rivers of insight poured into me. Much of it, I fear, I shall never understand. Perhaps some of my revelations are for a future age, in the distant summertime of my god's religion. I believe it so." For a moment, he paused. Just to make sure he had a captive audience. He pressed his palms together in thought, and no one who saw him would think him done speaking. "Consequently, I have begun to write it all down. Everything. I have spared no detail, and given no thought to composition or theme. Yet I have in my possession a growing body of authentic work, divine scripture in its rawest form. From god's lips to my pen, I have written it. Now do you see why you are here?"

Balanced in a combat context? I always imagined telepathy as sort of useless in combat, because while you're squeezing your eyes trying to figure out what angle he's going to punch you at, he's punching you. So reasonable telepathy would require at least a few seconds of pure motionless concentration, akin to cupping behind your ear to hear a really quiet sound. Essentially to make it useless in combat. Unreasonable would be jedi stuff: acting seamlessly while getting a psionic twitter feed of their thoughts.

Sorry, I didn't mean to peel off in a random direction. Is this thread for positing a power and then discussing if it's balanced or not?