Please Lead Us To Salvation:
It's been a while since I did anything with the Psychoverse so I'm taking the opportunity to introduce a brand new member of the New God family/pantheon.
Beyond the (fairly) solid boundaries of the physical planes and the endless, twinkling light filled spaces of the Arcane lies the Void. It is here in this empty grey realm that Gods are born. These entities gestate and develop, floating in the emptiness as thought and awareness grow within them. When they reach sufficient strength they then seek suitable hosts to contain their essence as they establish their forms in both the material and immaterial realms. When the New Gods of Earth rose they swarmed down to Earth and fought one another for the means and the right to live in and rule over the planet, consuming it in their own egos and desires. However one did not.
The Shining Path was no different from its foul siblings, it lived to fulfil its own desires and wants but its self imposed mission was very different. It sought to aid the mortals of Earth in whatever means it saw fit and for whatever reason it considered appropriate.
Whilst the other New Gods slowly carved out the souls of unfortunate humans and stole their bodies, devouring their decaying minds and souls he waited in the Void, watching. He lingered as his siblings rose up and claimed the world for themselves, carving out their own dominions and subjecting the unfortunate mortals to their wanton lusts. As the entropy of the Void crept up on him he slowly extended his presence into the physical world and sought out a host to contain him. He did not wish to torture the mortal needlessly but instead flooded his body with the essence of a divine being. Thus instead of the lingering pain and slow insanity of a regular ascension the mortal exploded in a conflagration of energy, a quick death and mercy on the part of the Shining Path. His host had been spared the horrors of a world ruled by the New Gods and provided means by which the Shining Path could save the other inhabitants of Earth. For you see the poor individual had been born with a link tot he Arcane and the energy kept within it. In most circumstances this young man would have come across the Coven of the Silver Court and been stolen away by the Witches but instead his death had released the energy the New God needed to ascend to a form capable of battling his debased brethren. A new war for the world began and the youngest New God fought from a position of strength with a conviction born of self proclaimed righteousness for he was the Shining Path, the road that led all unfortunates to Salvation.
It has been over 200 years since the rise of the Shining Path or Salvation as he also likes to be called.
The Realm of the Shining Path is a sprawling empire that spreads its influence wherever it can wriggle a tendril of his power. It is populous and prosperous with a productive population and a stable society that all venerate their divine guardian and devote themselves to his holy mission. Together they shall free the world from the monsters that have violated it and create a new world for humanity and their New God.
The lands he rules have been purged of the influence of his siblings and now new cities and landscapes have replaced whatever once existed there. Like many of his brethren the Shining Path is given over to large constructs and has tasked his mortal dependants with building many grand structures and settlements to celebrate the wondrous life that he has given them. Great pillars formed of unnatural gleaming stone climb several miles into the sky, all of them covered in elaborate statues and carvings that depict the image of the Shining Path and those who hosted his essence. Remaining spaces are devoted to other symbols of joy and contentment advertising the perfection of their lives.
The Shining Path has foregone a corporeal form, his unorthodox manifestation on the world permitting him to instead take another. He appears in the minds of all his mortal wards and vassals as a long tunnel of twisting silver, shining with a brilliant light and at the end is a great golden glare, beckoning all those who step upon his coils towards it. Countless voices sing their praises to the Shining Path and urge those who witness him on. From this glare issues a voice that is spoken in a million rich tones and pitches, speaking his will to those he wishes to speak to.
The wards of the Shining Path live in beautifully crafted cities. The architecture embraces numerous forms of bizarre geometry and are built to strange specifications. Every building is a labour of love, wrought by craftsmen and labourers who adore their work and build ever larger and complex structures, ignoring terrible conditions, gnawing hunger and exhaustion all to feed the contentment that nestles in their souls. On every wall and every corner there are statues, frescos and carvings depicting the many guises of the Shining Path, at times these figures move, watching the mortals as they walk by. Everyone walks the streets with happy blank smiles on their faces, going about life with a spring in their step as they perform whatever task, significant or menial to the utmost perfection, seeking only to satisfy themselves through accomplishment. This feeling in the depths of their being is what drives them, they must seek out happiness through whatever they feel will please them, or whatever they are told will please them. Families are large for the people are told that making and caring for families is what makes them happy. No matter what they bring there must always be more children, more people and more warm living bodies to build the Domain of the Shining Path. Women, swollen to disturbing sizes by their pregnancies have litters of children in births of six or seven
Distinct from the countless millions that serve the Shining Path are his servitors. These are not spawn for the Shining Path does not want them but are instead humans who have been imbued with a great concentration of his essence. They walk the streets in black uniforms covered by great grey robes. Where they walk the people look down in reverence. They do not judge the populace but instead watch over them, their eyeless faces peering beyond the veil of reality and staring into their souls. Through them the Shining Path sees all and directs all, guiding the people to their destiny as he has not yet won the war.
On the ever expanding and ever mobile front-lines the armies of the Shining Path are mobile. Armies of soldiers march to their deaths with content smiles on their faces, confident of their inevitable victory. They wield weapons lovingly crafted by the population beyond the battle lines and are replaced by their children as they fall in the mud. Servitors stalk amongst their ranks, unleashing blasphemous energies from their eye sockets, everything in heir sight is immolated by the burning righteous fire of the Shining Path and those unfortunate innocents who are caught in their wake are delivered from this painful existence.
The other New gods reeled from the destructive arrival and sudden ascension of their youngest sibling. Against all the odds the Shining Path has ousted the Highlord and the Grey King from their domains and in turn caused them to dislodge the others to their south. The entire world has suffered from the upheaval and the continuation of the war has not let it settle.
The Highlord has been chastened by his defeat but refuses to accept that he has been beaten by another of his siblings, least of all the youngest. Of course to prove his strength and potency he faced and displaced the White Justicar from his lands, building a new empire for himself. When he fled he force marched every follower he still controlled down into his new lands, though many were liberated by the Shining Path and many millions died on their way south enough still arrived to occupy the new territories.
The people of the Highlord's new domain are thoroughly dominated by their New God overlord. In great cities of silvery towers and domes they toil away building great monuments to their god. Everything runs on a schedule that cannot be ignored or disobeyed for the people of the Highlord's Domain have no will. They wander the streets, dead eyed with blank expressions repeating whatever duty they have been given until the Highlord gives them new instructions. There is no respite from his control and no independence for the Highlord's will is absolute and the human mind is incapable of denying him. In factories far away from the pristine cities weapons are constructed. The Highlord is livid about his defeat, even as he denies it, and so he prepares armies of his followers for a new war that will shatter the Shining Path's empire and prove his supremacy once and for all. Metallic humanoids patrol the streets, punishing dissidents and observing the population. They know every decree and decision made by their progenitor and any sign of deviation in the mortal population will incur their wrath for they are his spawn, the direct manifestation of his might.
A new palace and Capital grace the surface of the Earth, a massive complex of silver and gold that cover many miles, culminating in an enormous golden dome that reflects the sun's light and glares at all that see it. Great statues of the Highlord's many forms cover the Capital in a dazzling display of colour, poses and fashions. Precious metals adorn the walls and passageways and great portraits and sculptures are placed everywhere. Many are too terrible for human eyes to look upon and slaves have been known to collapse, the remnants of their minds overtaken by madness, they are swiftly engulfed and devoured by the bulk of their master as punishment for their disobedience. This entire building is attended by slaves that work with robotic efficiency and obedience. Everything is immaculately maintained by these blank servitors. The Highlord himself has returned to his former glory. His immense metallic form was once stained and diminished by the energies that had been unleashed against him but now he shines once again. At the centre of the great palace is his 'face' here thousands of clerks fill a great chamber, writing down decrees endlessly and tirelessly until their bodies give out only to be replaced by new arrivals. Though the manifestation of his conscious will is centred in this chamber his indomitable presence is far greater. His vast bulk spreads throughout the entirety of the palace, filling passages and chambers with liquid metals and precious stones. His presence and conceptual might spread even further, bearing down on his thralls, crushing their wills, erasing their personalities and instructing them in the way they will live. Creation exists to serve him and he will tolerate no disobedience.
With most of his original domain taken by the Highlord the White Justicar adapted. Even when he was weakened by the Shining Path the Highlord was a formidable foe, too great for even the powerful conviction of White Justicar to face. Instead the White Justicar turned South and devastated the Waverider's Domain whilst dealing a deadly bow to the Earth Child at the same time. Once the Highlord had exhausted himself the White Justicar was able to end his retreat. Though the Highlord was still too strong to defeat he turned his attention to his siblings to the south.
The great justice state sprawls over Central America and further as he expands. Armies of mortal thralls are thrown onto the front-lines of an eternal war, led by zealous and devoted spawn. The land is subjected to the complex demands of the White Justicar which are enshrined in law and enforced by his spawn and the fanatical armed forces of the New God. However this realm is unstable, its expansion has kept the White Justicar from consolidating what he has already conquered. He has built a new Hall from which he rules, decrees the laws of the land and displays those who violate the laws he sets down but his efforts are now firmly focused on bringing law to those who would defy him. His great pillar-like being burns with a radiance born of anger and hatred. His defeat has once again awoken him to the reality that there are those who oppose his law. This is no longer acceptable, no longer tolerable and he will remedy this. His siblings and all the creatures of this world will be brought to heel and they will answer for their crimes of defiance. Sin is his power, conviction is his drive and he will judge this entire world. No one escapes judgement.
When the White Justicar first came to South America the alien forests of the Earth Child burnt in the fires of his rage and humiliation. Maddened with anger at the travesties done to her realm the Earth Child fought back. For what seemed like eternity the skies were filled with dirty green and brown energies that were in turn engulfed by flares of silvery light. However the advance of the White Justicar was not halted and the Earth Child found herself forced further south until the invader was in turn exhausted by conquest. The Earth Child has since recuperated and strengthened her domain. South America is now awash with unnatural energies and the forces of nature have responded to it. The wild gardens of the Earth Child cover her domain, twisting and writhing with barely checked energy and a malign intelligence. Impossibly enormous trees burst above a canopy that stretches as far as the eye can see, trees sway in non-existent breezes and vines, creepers and other less recognisable things slither and crawl over their bark. Beneath the trees is a world drowned in mulch and shrouded by the impenetrable canopy above. Strange beasts and other less savoury things stalk through these jungles, acting out an extreme form of natural life. Everything here is deadly and competition is endless as animal and plant battle and blend into one another. All of nature's weaponry is exploited and evolved to staggeringly deadly extremes and this war is encouraged by the Earth Child and her ever attendant dryads.
The Earth Child is desperate to exact revenge on her sibling who continues to encroach on her territory. Her entire realm is now focused on expansion. The forests spread further and further, engulfing the borders and everything in their path. Wherever there is resistance the dryads emerge leading armies of alien wildlife, debased human survivors and the very forest itself against them. The Earth Child is now a fearsome being, her normally flowing feminine from of green energy and plant-life is now a wild tangle of vegetation. Eternally moving plantlife sprouts from her body and reaches for anything within reach, bark skin splinters in every direction like jagged armour and swirling dulled green energies surround her, whipping the vegetation affixed to her into a frenzy and lashing those who draw her gaze. Her dryads are now just as ferocious and blood-hungry, flocking to the borders like sharks as they search for new victims.
Humans are now being bred, forbidden from forming large communities and settled societies, they live simply to feed the Earth Child and provide her with the strength she needs to defeat those who threaten her gardens. They live wretched lives, eking out an existence in the thick jungle where they are just a very insignificant link in the rapacious and unforgiving food chain.
From the smoking peaks of the Andes the Firebird flies. The upstart White Justicar and Earth Child have dared to attack the realm he has carved from this world. Their kin wander the Earth with impunity and have dared to desecrate its surface with their wanton influence but things are about to change. His master is stirring and the Firebird finds his being invigorated by the churning of the Earth. He once again flies over the Andes and he is preparing for the day when he will be sent to reclaim the lands that have been stolen.
The Grey King suffered a similar humiliation to the Highlord and was ousted from his domain. Recuperating in the vestigial rump of his old empire he immediately turned away to the neighbouring lands, carving a path of destruction as he vented his anger. He inflicted his rage filled savagery on the Master of Secrets, Angel of Death and Grinning Shadow, taking immense satisfaction from his victories over such formidable opponents regardless of the bloodshed and destruction it caused. He revelled in the slaughter, devouring the flesh of his foes and copulating in the rivers of blood that formed on the battlefield. The Spined One, the Grey King' uplifted spawn, attempted to rise up against his weakened progenitor and failed. The Grey King destroyed him and now the Spined One' barbed pelt adorns him whenever he takes his human form.
It took time but the thick mist shrouded woods that the Grey King lets grow have spread at an unnatural pace. There are still plenty of areas left that are open space but they too are covered by overcast skies and frequently shrouded in mists. Lone humans are not safe in this land for survival of the fittest and the rule of the strong are the laws of the land. The settlements that do exist are islands in the middle this wilderness and even these places are savage. Gangs and factions battle one another for power, resources and slaves of their own, all to prove themselves worthy to the Grey King, great lupine spawn lope through the streets hunting the dissident and devouring those too weak to remove themselves from their presence. Great dirty factories churn out weaponry for the Great Hunt occasionally great processions of armed soldiers will enter the settlement and extract a tribute of flesh for the Grey King's army. Massive agricultural zones feed the population, the crops here grow with the same unnatural vigour as the wilderness around it and even here competition is intense as the crop plants struggle against one another and the weeds. Slaves toil to harvest the fast growing and hostile plants and soldiers and spawn walk amongst the farms as they guard the slaves and the silos that hold the food. Beyond these areas of 'civilization' lie the wild regions of thick tangled forest, boreal and deciduous, where the grey King hunts. Here predatory beasts hunt and rule with impunity, debased and degenerate humans, little more than animalistic monsters roam between the trees alongside the other predatory abominations, waiting for the howling call of the Grey King beckoning them to hunt.
Never before this day has the Master of Secrets been so thoroughly humiliated. Despite his finest deceptions and stratagems his upstart younger sibling dealt him one decisive defeat after another. The Grey King's displacement brought his savage wrath upon him and the Master of Secrets found that a mind consumed in primitive blood-lust was difficult to twist and deceive. The Master of Secrets is not a warrior and his purposely turbulent realm proved completely inadequate for facing the rigours of open war. Since then he has tasked his spawn and his thralls with solidifying his domain. Pitting them against one another to see who can obey his decrees with the most vigour and success. Great fortified cities, built like termite mounds, now dot his empire and are filled with humans, spawn and other creatures that now obey him. Factories produce weapons even though the quality often varies and sabotage is common. Though he still toys with his subjects every now and then the Master of Secrets now travels abroad, confusing his enemies, stealing orders, misdirecting armies, inciting distrust and hatred amongst the ranks and afflicting them with the eternal plague of insects that follows in his wake.
The Veil of Dust has seen an opportunity and taken it. His closest (in terms of geography) siblings are still reeling from the Shining Path's ascension and his Shifting Sands are slowly encroaching on them led by the endlessly broiling sandstorm that is their master.
The Chronicler of Ages was roused from his endless compilations when the Master of Secrets assaulted Alexandria. The Master of Secrets broke into the Library and stole as much knowledge as he could so that eh could exploit it in whatever manner he could. Enraged from the desecration of his realm and his collection the Chronicler of Ages devoted whatever portions of his mind were lucid and aware and directed his thralls with a new task of retribution. There is very little that can rouse the emotions of the detached and enigmatic New God but when his texts are taken there is nothing that can assuage his anger.
Egypt has been mobilised. Massive structures have been built to feed the new war effort, farms exist where the mortal human thralls of the Chronicler of Ages are forced to breed, their offspring aged unnaturally by the energies that the Chronicler of Ages and his spawn summon, all to build an army capable of defeating their neighbours. Texts instructing on the construction of alien weapons from a million million worlds and realities are consulted even as the products of said texts fail to work with primitive materials or radically different physical laws and dramatically self-destruct. Spawn walk the streets directing the people of the Chronicler of Ages' thralls and ensuring that their instructions are conducted in an efficient and professional manner for nothing is more important. The Chronicler of Ages is still incapable of personally leading them, his mind broken beyond all hope of coherency and thus he continues to fill his Library with new texts of all kind. Instead his concerns in the mortal world are handled by the ever present Adjutant. She is just as angry as her progenitor about the transgressions of the Master of Secrets and conducts her campaigns with an enthusiasm that the Chronicler of Ages would consider inappropriate if he were ever capable of recognising it.
The Lady of Iron on the other hand has yet to feel any effects from the rise of the Shining Path. Her realm was too far south and her siblings to the north appear to be uninterested in invading, at the moment. Instead she has turned her attentions to completing the Red Nexus, her new means of controlling her domain. The miles upon miles of cables, pylons and metal bands all inscribed with strange symbols that pull at the eyes of those who look upon them now contain her being and will be the focus through which she may rule with absolute power. For now she still rules her thralls through more conventional manners and keeps an eye on those spawn she has uplifted.
Her portion of Africa is a land of technological wonders. Everything is as mechanised as possible, farms are sowed with genetically modified plants and what green spaces exist are orderly, confined and filled with modified greenery of some kind, all to display the power and purity of technology. The people toil away in factories to produce more machines whilst others struggle to maintain and clean the machines their kin produce and others still are confined to immense laboratories working to improve what already exists. There is no end to the work of the people of Africa for their divine ruler demands the constant expansion and evolution of artificial machinery. Her divine essence infuses all forms of technology and through it she addresses her thralls, commanding them in the conflicting voices of a million women. The Children of Steel, Bronze and Gold all work at their own projects as well, snagging what resources and personnel they can or devoting their own energies in order to fulfil their goals. Their progenitor watches them closely for she does not trust them and many times their desires conflict with hers. The Empire of A Million Years has been quiet for some time now, maybe her often wayward spawn could keep themselves busy investigating that often violent and hazardous border.
The Angel of Death was incensed by the invasions by the Grey King and Master of Secrets, his realm having been violated by his siblings profane existences. The Great Crusade had stalled when the various domains of the New Gods stabilised but with the return of open conflict he has unleashed the full sum of his righteous fury and fanatical conviction. The long age of slow militarisation and inquisitorial self-persecution has finally ended. Now its an age of rapid militarisation instead and now there is an external target. The Great Crusade is marching in every direction over desert, mountain and sea as the mortal thralls and armed spawn of the Angel of Death head to subjugate and evangelise the rest of the world. On their northern border the great blazing form of the Angel of Death himself engages in savage combat with the Grey King as the two battle for supremacy. In the great cities of his domain enormous rallies are held by mutilated preachers that whip entire populations into violent frenzies, goading them into working to maintain the war effort. Across the land a miasma of anger exists that saturates his entire domain, feeding the people of this land the same fiery rage that burns within their God.
Until the rise of the Shining Path and the return of the Great Crusade the perfect realm of the Queen of Hearts had been relatively undisturbed. The entire domain had been devoted to appeasing their rulers every whim and the people within her borders slaved away to make sure their divine queen's desires were fulfilled. However this new war has distracted her from her own debauchery and raised her ire. Across the subcontinent slaves toil away at crafting new weaponry for her devoted armies. Great hordes of beautifully sculpted slave soldiers armed with unnecessarily ostentatious weaponry and armour have been assembling on various borders. Alongside them are the Queen of Hearts' spawn, armed with equally beautiful weaponry and surrounded by haloes of brilliant light that obscure their strangely proportioned features.
The new militarisation has required industry but the Queen of Hearts does not tolerate ugliness or pollution in her domain. The factories are fully enclosed structures built far away from the cities, pollutants and other by products are channelled deep underneath the structures or buried. Those who slave away in these facilities often succumb to the toxins that surround them. They too are hidden away from the Queen of Hearts' sights along with the sick, crippled and ugly. The beautiful manicured cities are still tended and cleaned for now she is more likely than ever to bless them with her attendance and they must work hard to appease their divine mistress for to fail in such tasks is to invite her displeasure. To succeed however is to likely earn her gratitude and that can often be far more painful.
The Queen of Hearts now travels her realm, inspecting her armies for though they will go to the carnage of war they must remain perfect. Units that do not meet her standards are fed to her spawn or sacrificed to her, often directly. In these turbulent days she travels her domain more often than before, inspiring her adoring subjects with her beautiful presence. Even those trained to the height of unthinking discipline cannot withstand her presence and many a parade and assembly has devolved into a writhing mass of overwhelmed flesh. The Princess travels alongside her but has expressed greater enthusiasm for the coming campaigns. Her luminously beautiful form shows no sign of readiness for the rigours of war and yet invading armies have already been torn apart by her exceptionally gruesome proclivities whenever she participates in any counter-attacks.
The Bronze Wyrm had less luck than most of his siblings and has been losing ground slowly since he and the other New Gods ascended to physicality. Now he travels all over his domain, primarily keeping to the borders, carving great caverns and tunnels under the ground that then give way whenever any try to cross it. Through these measures he keeps out his enemies, for the most part, and traps his thralls within. His people live impoverished and wretched lives, ever wary of the ground they walk on for it may one day collapse beneath them or erupt forth horrible metallic coils that devour anything in their path. The return of open warfare has provided the spawn as well as the more fanatical followers with a chance to expand the Bronze Wyrm' domain once again at the expense of the Grinning Shadow and maybe even the Angel of Death.
In recent years the Bronze Wyrm has been suffering. The earth that he dug within had been his loyal domain but in recent years it has been turning against him. His tunnels constrict around him and stone no longer yields as it once did. Something has noticed he is intruding on its long abandoned territory and it does not enjoy the competition he once willingly presented. The Bronze Wyrm is realising that the true Earth Serpent has finally awoken.
The Grinning Shadow is now rather concerned with his physical domains. His losses to the Grey King and re-establishment of hostilities with his many siblings on his border have galvanised him. The beginnings of the Shining Path's invasion in his northern territories served to motivate him further. His domain is still divided between the provinces and regions owned by either the idyllic but predatory fantasies and the horrifyingly sadistic nightmares but the Grinning Shadow has once again exerted his control over them. The mortals of the Grinning Shadow' domain must still suffer under the rule of the various unnatural monstrosities of this land but now there appears to be a bit more cohesion between them. The Grinning Shadow has a purpose for them now.
Deep in the spiralling Towers of Dreams lies a broiling mass of darkness. The Grinning Shadow has never diffused himself over such a great distance but now his essence has been divided within so many enshrouded spaces. From these he watches his enemies and extends his influence, infecting the dreams and waking moments of those who's minds he can infest. In the physical world his armies are led by the Nightmare who is ecstatic at the prospect of inflicting such torment on the creatures of the world. Wherever she roams the skies blacken and are filled with turbulent storm clouds. Within this mass of darkness is the Nightmare herself, flying over the heads of her prey laughing and crying in joy. Beneath her march great hosts of soldiers equipped with tools of slaughter that can be either beautifully crafted or brutally assembled, depending on what region they have been created within. Fantasies and nightmares follow these armies, inflicting their own tortures on the unfortunate victims of the Grinning Shadow' attention.
With the war restarted the Nightmare Child has also taken the opportunity to continue her vendetta against the Queen of Hearst and the Princess. Already lands have fallen to the armies she has been able to steal command over. Those she captures have been submitted to monstrous tortures that lead to nothing but their own torment but to the Nightmare Child they have been blessed with the most wondrous experiences.
Out of all the New Gods only two refuse to participate in the war. As always the Abyssal Gatekeeper isolates himself from the wider world and instead focuses his attentions on the strange creatures he births in the oceans depths. The islanders that feed him sacrifices are enough to sustain him and sate his desire for flesh and energy. The Herald of Ash on the other hand revels in the chaos that has consumed the rest of the world. Though he has suffered looses to the encroaching forces of the Queen of Hearts and the Grinning Shadow, the desiccated wastes that are his home have stopped them. His people still tend to their gardens which blossom for a short time and then waste away into the bone white stalks that all plant-life in Australia turn into. Those who wander too far from their settlements are stalked by the spawn of the Herald of Ash. These decrepit servitors, their skin eternally flaking from their dried frames, hunt these unfortunates down and deliver them to their progenitor for sustenance.
Even with his new power the Shining Path avoided the British Isles for even he knew not to raise he ire of the last of the Old Gods. AORA has been managing Great Britain and Ireland in a draconian manner. Surveillance and police enforcement are everywhere in an example of Orwellian necessity. The people are watched closely through means both mundane and arcane for any danger of subversion. The various supernatural entities of the world may leave the British Isles alone but that will not stop the threats from within developing. Government agents have full authority to investigate any suspicious activity as well as respond in whatever way they consider appropriate. A significant portion of the UK' limited resources are devoted to these security measures. However things have begun to change. The ground beneath the British people has been trembling continuously for the past year. No damage major has been done but the signs are very disconcerting.
Within and beyond the deep bowels of the Earth lies a being of immense power. His illustrious metallic coils stretch on for infinity and loop over one another in intricate patterns. His true immensity is beyond sight for to gaze upon him is to invite excruciating torment and death. He is the Pendragon the last of the Old Gods and he has been slumbering for millennia. However something has caught his attention. The petty younger deities have left his possessions and their concerns have always been meaningless but now something has changed. Something is coming and its the mere shadow of its arrival is enough to terrify him. He will rise and face this monstrosity with the fury of he who outlasted all other Old Gods. The power of the Earth Serpent, the Sword of Kings will be unleashed on this foe and all will know the power of the Pendragon. However even this being's impending arrival is enough to give him pause. It's inevitability is all that keeps him from remaining asleep. Deep within the recesses of his mind the remnant of the Morgaine laughs with insane glee. She is too mad to notice how terrible the entity that approaches truly is but anything that scares her arrogant sibling is enough to please her.
The Empire of A Million years came about shortly after the rise of the New Gods. The Witches had already returned to the mortal world thanks to the actions of a careless neophyte on the verge of his own ascension. The New Gods robed them of most lands but they found Southern Africa fairly free of young deities. They seized it even as the Lady or Iron' influence crept south. The prospect of territory, thralls, resources and prestige begun a period of fierce competition and expansionism in the Coven as hundreds of Witches grabbed everything they could with both hands.
The Coven would rule over these lands and battle with the lady of Iron and others for centuries. The coming of the Shining Path did change their dynamic quite a bit. His arrival tore a hole in reality that seeped Arcane energy through it. When that happened they were invigorated by the free energies that entered the world in greater quantity than ever before. However after this admittedly short period of strength something strange has been going on in the Empire of A Million Years. It began when various strange fluctuations in energy alerted some attuned Witches of something' approach. As the years went by the others noticed it or were alerted to it by the original detectives and a response was organised. In the last few years the Witches of the Empire of A Million Years have been evacuating the planet and they have brought their mortal slaves with them. Entire areas have been depopulated and nearly the entire empire has since been abandoned, several million humans dying in the attempt. With time the Coven's neighbours in the physical world have all noticed the abandoned borders and mounted incursions into their territory, rarely pondering why the lands are empty and undefended.
The leading Witches for these initiatives are Lady Amori Passionis Fervor and Lord Abbadon Sentinilis Honorifice, both of whom are regarded as strangely concerned with mortal well being in their own way. No-one knows what awaits these people in the Coven but as the Witches slowly dismantle their empire in the physical world they are making sure that nothing they would wish to use is left behind.
In the wastes of Antarctica strange shapes are merging from beneath the ice. With the arrival of the New Gods other more ancient things began to awaken. Those that slept under the Antarctic ice emerged slowly at a lethargic pace but their mere existence was enough to ward off most intruders. Others failed to discover whatever they discovered on the frozen continent. However just as the Pendragon shakes himself properly from his slumber so too do the residents of Antarctica accelerate their rise. The ice shelf of the continent crumbles and churns in places as disturbing mountain sized machines rise from beneath them. Cyclopean towers and spires rise ahead of them and strange shapes can be seen crawling within the glassy organic structures. They too have felt the approach of something terrifying and they are struggling to prepare.
Beyond the boundaries of reality the Arcane grows turbulent. A great tempest of energy has grown in the incorporeal realm and what solidity did exist in this area is now gone. All that remains stable is the retreating influence of the Coven and the rift that the Shining Path resides within. Something vast is arriving and the energies of this tempestuous realm have rippled at its approach. Foul entities are fleeing in every direction, seeking refuge in other realms or retreating further into the Arcane' depths. The great entity is shrunken, its bulk having reduced since it gorged itself aeons ago and untold light-years away. As it moves it grows, recovering itself by engorging itself on the energy that surrounds it. Grey flesh undulates as the only corporeality in this area of Creation, countless mouths and orifices open and close over its flesh and a billion billion voices scream and roar in hunger and anger. The rift between realities has caught its attention, the walls between this realm and the physical universe have been weakened and this will ease its passage. Lesser entities quail before its presence and reality itself convulses in rejection of its sheer wrongness. It seeks to engulf all of Creation, erase the false existences and replace it with its majesty and righteousness. It is the AllFather, he who was ancient when reality was born, the one true existence, the one true Creation. He is hunger, he is wrath, he is existence and he is coming.
Even as the Earth awaits its doom a single figure wanders across the face of the Earth. He is a broken man, his features sunken and his eyes dead. He stumbles in any direction, forever seeking an escape from the world he saw collapse. He only thinks of the lives he led before the New Gods came, dreaming of simpler times, blurred faces and half-forgotten names that tie his tongue and cause him to weep bitter tears of regret and shame. On his right hand the accursed brand glows, its energies sustaining him. Though its esoteric properties keep him from death and old age he still suffers. Even if he knew how to remove the brand and finally allow himself to die he would not. This is his penance, his cross to bear and until the AllFather finally comes for him he will carry his sins for eternity. He is Alexander Payne and all of this is his fault.
I would show the regions of conflict on the map but that would probably cover most of it in the same colour.