Nawain/Logs/20240831

     You whisper to Trajan, Brisknite, Istercal, Vaddon, Maintain, Gragnel, Severei, Laureh, and Elurora, Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. No need to hurry. Tidy energy is easier to use than hurried tangles.
     
    (Nawain threads her fingers through the holy streams encircling her and beckons to an unseen being. Standing on tip-toes, she leashes the golden energy to nothing at all.)
     
    You hear the Immortals grumbling at your hubris, begrudgingly encouraging you to continue.
     
    Nawain threads her fingers through the holy streams encircling her and beckons to Sihmiauri. Standing on tip-toes, she leashes the golden energy to the godling's wingtails, but does not yet command it to seek. She keeps her hands on the streams, guiding the godling away from the aertherworks like a massive kite, waiting for the right moment.
     
    A loud thrum echoes across the area as lines of softly glowing energy begin to coalesce around those present.
     
    (Elurora's fingers twitch slightly as if mimicking the work in her head of gathering and twining the light from the sphere floating around her with the mana before gently letting it flow to Nawain.)
     
    You feel the Immortals wince, and sense a measure of their...  awe.  They are impressed, you are sure of it.
     
    You are sure it is just a little further, and you will accomplish greatness.  You hear Their concern, Their fear, and Their confidence, much the way a parent watches a child take their first steps.
     
    (look hunched godling - ) No matter the angle from which you view the Godling, it remains hunched with its back to you.  It moves erratically, with sudden unsettling twitches, leaving behind a streaming trail of afterimages.  Loosely wreathed in a hazy silvery light, the Godling can be heard softly muttering to itself.
     
    The Godling steps away, and you hear its voice echoing, Without you, none of this is possible.
     
    (Nawain trembles, fists wrapped tight around the reigns of her Godling, face pale as she stays focused on the goal, unaware that everyone else can see the Godling she's been communing with for months.)
     
    The Godling begins to laugh, and while you cannot recall what you said, you are sure it was funny.
     
    The haze of energized aether is crisscrossed by several bolts of silvery lightning, the cord snapping about wildly a moment before it is brought back under control.
     
    A momentary slip in your concentration results in a discharge of energy across the area.  No matter, you are sure it will not happen again.  The Godling giggles, and says There are no accidents, only opportunities.  Weird.
     
    The Godling suddenly turns around and looks at you, its eyes burning with cruel intensity, and it smiles.
     
    The aetheric haze erupts with no-color, crackling and snarling along the entirety of the cordage, burning the tapestry!
     
    The Godling begins to grow, the size of a house, the size of a tree, the size of a mountain, and you find yourself staring upward at the gargantuan creation.  It stands, and begins to laugh at the sky. 
     
    The weave evaporates into motes of aetheric energy, and the Godling simply vanishes.
     
    (Nawain throws another thick rope of holy mana around the godling's wingtails, shuddering as the powerful being grows.)
     
    Saragos exclaims to you, Get your godling to help!
     
    Nawain gathers a great breath and sends her will out to her lurking godling, commanding the chimeric being to spear directly into the rift!
     
    A moment passes in silence, and suddenly, an explosion.