Council of the Gods



Council of the Gods was an event in SMITE that began on April 9, 2019 and ended on May 29, 2019.

Description
Gods and Goddesses, Welcome to the Council of the Gods Event.

The Gods have decided to hold a council on Mount Olympus, bringing with them rare items! Each patch will release a new bundle with 4 Exclusive items. Purchasing both bundles will grant you the Unlimited Jormungandr Skin!

There will be 6 quests in total, 3 quests per patch. Completing a quest will grant you 250 Battle Points. For every patch that is released, the last 3 quests will be deactivated. Players can earn a total of 1500 Battle Points throughout the event.

Council of the Gods Cosmetic Items
These are the items that are available during the event. Each bundle costs 750 Gems to unlock.

Purchasing every bundle during their respective sales would cost 150

Unlocks
Council Of Gods=


 * -|Divine Allegiance=

Quests

 * Council of the Gods Quest 1:
 * Play 2 Games.
 * Reward: 250 battle pass points


 * Council of the Gods Quest 2:
 * Deal 50,000 Player Damage
 * Reward: 250 battle pass points


 * Council of the Gods Quest 3:
 * Play 1 Game as a Hunter.
 * Reward: 250 battle pass points


 * Council of the Gods Quest 4:
 * Earn 40,000 Gold.
 * Reward: 250 battle pass points


 * Council of the Gods Quest 5:
 * Play 1 Game as a Mage.
 * Reward: 250 battle pass points


 * Council of the Gods Quest 6:
 * Get 50 Kills and Assists.
 * Reward: 250 battle pass points

Chapter 1
Peace.

She stood alone atop the mountain, the wind’s chill unfelt as she contemplated that single word. It echoed in her mind, an outsider to one who had known so little of what it described in her own life. She drew in a breath, held it, and exhaled. Did the air taste different now, after they had saved this world?

Ragnarok was gone. Truly, finally gone. This time, its foul power had not merely been passed from one agent of calamity to another, but rather it had been cast out into the stars beyond any of their reach, to gutter out and dissipate into the silence and cold like a candle’s last flame.

Theirs was the victory, bought with the blood of countless slain and a world torn asunder. None had emerged from it without scars, without loss. She looked back then, seeing through the walls of her palace to an empty throne, one that now called to her to rule from it.

But she mustn’t dwell upon the past, not after everything they had saved. There was nothing but possibility ahead, bright potential just waiting to unfold. The destinies of the gods and their pantheons were their own once more, beholden to no disaster or monster. They could do whatever they wanted. Why then, did that only fill her with dread?

Peace was an unfamiliar thing in the world. For as long as any could remember there had been conflict, clashes between gods, those who worshipped them, even entire pantheons taking arms against another. Her mind drifted to the countless gods who were themselves manifestations of war. How would they perpetuate in creation without battle? Could they even?

How long before the old ways reassert themselves, where those who had just fought together as brothers with the world on the brink begin once more to see each other as enemies? How long before the feuds, the rivalries, the vendettas overtake the fragile peace they had won for themselves? Was it inevitable? Could it even be prevented, or was this peace the true aberration in a realm of violence and destruction that, for all its horror, was the world’s true normality?

She saw wholly new conflicts gathering on the horizon as well. Arthur and Merlin, those travelers from a distant realm who had tipped the balance against the World Serpent, had not emerged unscathed. They carried with them the sorrow and grief of their lives, much of which had originated in the land of the gods where they now stood.

Even between themselves, she could see the resentment in the great king. Jormungandr had taken Arthur’s wife, his people, his kingdom, and while he had plunged Excalibur into the heart of the beast and driven it away in defeat, he had not slayed it. Merlin had stayed his hand, and like a callus that choice had formed a barrier between the two, unspoken but keenly felt.

And then there was the cynical reality before them all. Ragnarok and the World Serpent had reaped a vicious tally in mortal life, the very thing that gave the pantheons their strength. Every one of them emerged diminished, some to the precipice of vanishing altogether. Would that spark a new war, when those with so little crossed the borders of those still plentiful in worshippers? When faced with extinction, much of what is thought unthinkable rises to the surface, threatening to become reality.

Ragnarok, in spite of everything it had taken, had given them all unity. Every god had put aside the past in the face of a common threat, and now that threat was gone.

Stepping back through the gilded doors leading into her palace, Hera counted the days until their fragile unity vanished as well.

***

“So what do we do now?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped open, his meditations set aside at the voice of his friend. He rose to his feet, turning to regard the King. It was that same question again, the only one that Arthur had asked since the battle in Asgard.

It made Merlin uncomfortable. Though he had lived as the King’s advisor ever since he took the crown, Arthur had always been a man of decisive action. The wizard looked within his friend and saw none of the ironclad conviction that had always informed his path through life. It was as though his lord was cut adrift, without purpose or direction in this new land of Avalon.

“Do you wish to return home, lord?”

“There is nothing to return to,” replied Arthur, unable to keep a bitter edge from his voice. “All is lost in Camelot, our home is nothing more than the tombs of those we failed to protect.”

Arthur paused, hesitating for a moment before giving voice to the thought burning behind his eyes. “Or avenge.”

Merlin gave a single nod. “We must release ourselves from the bondage of the past, lord. All of the blood, the pain, leave it behind. Let it fall away and you will be free of its darkness.”

“How am I to do that with my oaths left undone?” Arthur took a step closer to Merlin. “The promise I swore as my wife gave her last breath? The vow that brought me the destroy my own bloodline?” He pointed out to some point beyond the walls of Hera’s palace. “He yet lives, the hated thing I swore to destroy. And until I fulfill that, my soul cannot know peace.”

“He could no more resist his destiny than you, my lord,” implored Merlin. “He was no different than the storm or the inferno performing according to his nature.”

“No.” Arthur shook his head. “The Serpent is a being of mind and soul. He chose to obey the path bestowed upon him.”

“And now he can choose another,” said Merlin. “Would you deny him the chance to set right all that he has done in his existence? None can know what part he will play in future days.”

Arthur released a bark of anger, driving a fist into the flawless marble of the wall and leaving a shattered crater around his mailed knuckles. He leaned against the wall, setting his brow against the cool, broken stone. “My honor screams against this place. Nothing is what I believed it would be. I thought we would find answers here, and instead we only find more bloodshed. Monsters, cataclysms, forced to ally ourselves with the gods of the barbarians, and for what? We cannot even claim the vengeance that drove us here, to give our dead justice and peace.”

Merlin approached the King, laying a hand on his armoured shoulder. “Endure, my king, for just a while longer. Together we will seek out our place in this realm, and we will find peace, for the living and the dead.”

***

Ra basked in the adoration of thousands as the processional moved through his city. The pyramids glittered in the distance, shining monuments of crystal and gold that caught the light of the sun in radiant bursts of prismatic light beneath a blistering blue sky. The air sang with praise and exaltation from the masses lining the streets, waving banners and reaching out towards him. Ra extended his arms, sending soft currents of starlight over his believers who shouted in joy as it filled them with blessed warmth.

It had been long since he had looked upon his own kingdom. Fortune had blessed them, as they had suffered far less than the realms of the other pantheons. Ra’s people clamoured to praise him and his kindred gods, seeing the chaos that had brought so many low but had passed them by. The temples had been filled to bursting with offerings and charity, food and goods meant for those in distant lands who were in need. It filled Ra’s heart with light to see such compassion.

The parade reached its destination at the gates of Ra’s palace. He turned to face his people once more, favoring them with a final radiant glance. In celebration of the world’s triumph against the apocalypse a grand feast had been proclaimed, to last until the moon swelled to full and back again. The mortals deserved such revelry, as did the gods that ruled over them, and Ra was overjoyed to bestow it upon them all.

Yet in the midst of all this revelry, there was something different as Ra climbed the stairs leading within his palace, something awry and out of place yet elusive to define. The more his mind sought for it, the more quickly it slipped away, like grasping at smoke. Ra felt a disruption in the innate balance of the world, not one side overcoming the other, but rather an equal clash between the two. He looked up, seeing a lone hawk circling the apex of the central pyramid and casting a strange, unnatural shadow over its golden peak.

Ra could see such a sight as nothing less than an omen of what was poised to come. But of what, he had yet to divine.

***

When the dragon fell, and the gods returned to their seats of power, Thor and his father, the Allfather Odin, had remained in Asgard.

The kingdom of the Norse pantheon had suffered more than most from the past calamities, caused first from within their own ranks by the machinations of Hel and Fenrir, and them from the rise of Jormungandr the World Serpent, bent on inflicting his brutal cycle to purge the world of all divinity. Asgard had been left a ruin, its people ravaged and shaken, and the road toward the healing of wounds so deep would be long.

Thor walked the broken streets of his homeland, seeking to offer aid to those who he had fought for, to show them that the pantheon had not forsaken them. Those he found recoiled from him, or looked upon him with hollow eyes of unbelief that hung upon him like leaden weights.

The World Serpent had done more than destroy the physical reality of his land. His poisons had extended into the ver minds of his subjects, turning them away from the pantheon that had ruled and protected them. Thor flexed his fingers, feeling the strength slowly ebbing out of him.

He returned home to the palace, to beseech Odin as he sat upon the great throne Hlidskjalf. If Thor felt the effects of the mortals’ rejection within himself, he could see it writ large upon the Allfather. Odin’s face, waxen and grey, turned to look upon his son with bloodshot eyes.

“The damage is more severe than even we had believed, Allfather,” said Thor, dipping his head and clashing Mjolnir against his chest. “Our people languish, as ruined as our great cities, and they do not look to us for deliverance. What can we do, father? What can we do?”

“The people must be reminded of all that our pantheon has done for them,” answered Odin, his voice low and thick. “A display of power must be made to win back their hearts, or all will be lost.”

“Rebuild the cities?” asked Thor. “Give life to the harvest? What do you command, Allfather?”

“No,” Odin shook his head slowly. “Such deeds must be done of their own accord, as we are the custodians of this place and its mortals. To rally their worship and return them to our flock once more, though, something more spectacular must be done.”

“Name it, and I will see it done.”

Odin gave a single nod. “The faith of our people has been shaken, and they question our strength. They see the other pantheons less diminished than we, their gods still swollen with power and might. If we are to be looked upon in the same fashion again, we must show them our might has not yet fled from us.”

Thor blinked. “You wish to sow conflict amongst the pantheons?”

“Nothing so sinister,” said Odin. “Leave the dishonor and trickery to Loki, we are above such evils. I only say we return to the ways of old, and make the world once more the battleground of the gods.”

Chapter 2
The call went out across the world, taking flight with divine wings upon the wind to grant it speed. The message was sent out to all corners of creation, reaching the ears of every pantheon. To their seats of power it arrived, reaching the rulers of gods and men with the golden seal of Olympus.

Come forth to the Mountain, it said, and let us speak together of the future we shall make for the world.

The intent of Hera, Queen of the Gods, was clear for any to see. Each of the pantheons had spent this moment of unlikely peace debating that very thing. Should we isolate ourselves, and protect what mortal worship we have within our borders? Or is the proper course to venture out and offer aid to others? And if not aid, then conquest?

The latter sentiment existed in every pantheon. Gods of war and fire raised their voices, seeing rivals and enemies weakened by Ragnarok and demanding the advantage laid before them be seized. To do anything else would be nothing less than an invitation to the other gods to do that very thing to them, and why not fight with the initiative on foreign soil, where their own followers were safe from harm?

There was a cruel logic to such thought, and it reverberated most strongly within those pantheons most badly hurt by the past disasters. Anger, resentment and hunger were far from just the province of mortals. Divine beings unused to weakness did not welcome the sensation, and they looked to their neighbors, many of them rivals since time immemorial, and saw prey waiting to be conquered.

The world clung to its fragile peace, teetering on the precipice of slipping once more into total war. The wisest within each pantheon clutched the missive from Mount Olympus, demanding that an emissary be sent. Let the Queen of the Gods be heard, and then they may act as they see fit.

Thus the Council was born.

***

Hera waited at the gates of Mount Olympus. She intended to greet every delegation personally, to welcome them into her home and show them they would have an equal voice in the Council no matter which of the pantheons they hailed from. She could feel the tension radiating across the world, the wars looming up from the ashes of Ragnarok that threatened to consume them all. If there could be a chance to turn from such a path, so matter how slim, Hera would do all in her power to try.

For three days and nights she stood at the threshold. Her resolve frayed with every passing hour as only a handful of pantheons sent representatives. As the sun sank into the horizon at the end of the third day, she resigned to begin the Council with those who had arrived, hoping that the others would come forth in time.

The gods gathered in the grand amphitheater at the center of the palace, a broad bowl of tiered marble and frescoed tile work. Hera looked over the participants, seeing those deities that had taken part in the battle against Jormungandr most prominent of them all. The divisions between all were clear though, as each representative kept their distance between themselves and the others.

Hera took a breath, and drew herself up to her full, regal stature. With Argus plodding imposingly at her side, she descended to the floor at the center of the amphitheater.

“Salutations to you all,” said Hera, her voice carrying effortlessly to every corner of the grand changer. “From every corner of creation you have come, to talk of the future together. For that I thank you.”

“And what sort of future would you have come to pass, Queen Hera?” asked Pele, snapping her fingers lightly in soft bursts of flame.

“It is my wish, Pele, that the future ahead be not just one of my making,” answered Hera. “It is my hope that we might all work together to forge the path ahead, one where the pantheons might coexist in peace and mortals flourish in lands untouched by the horrors of war.”

“Horror?” Bellona gave a wry chuckle. “And what of those who do not view conflict as you do?” The war goddess stood, turning to address the deities gathered around her. “What of those who view conflict as the natural way of the world, that adversity must be overcome, corruption stamped out and injustice resisted? What if the ‘peace’ you argue for leads to nothing but stagnation and weakness, easy prey against whatever threat might lie in wait in the future?”

“Unity is all that saved creation,” said Merlin. “And only through unity can it be preserved. There is nothing but division in war, and division is what will make us weak.”

“Why do these ones speak?” asked Thanatos, the Greek god of death. “They have come here from another land, they have no people, no mortals worshipping them.”

Arthur drew in a deep, exaggerated breath. “Do you taste that?”

Thanatos breathed, pausing for a moment before frowning. “Taste what?”

“The air itself. The only reason you are here to breath it was won by my blade,” Arthur rested a hand upon sheathed Excalibur, “so hold your tongue when next you think to question us.”

Thanatos grinned beneath his silver mask. “So you say. Breathing is not usually my province.”

“I grow weary of this,” said Thor, uncrossing his arms and allowing Mjolnir to rest against the ground at his feet with a dull clang. “If all we plan to do is bicker here, then why don’t we just fight?”

“Thor?” Hera was taken aback. Of all the gods assembled, she had placed the most faith that the God of Thunder would surely support her intentions.

“Look around,” Thor gestured to the palace’s splendor surrounding them. “Your mountain stands untouched. Your people know no hardship, no starvation. They are not called to bury their dead in numbers uncounted. It is a small wonder you want to maintain the world as it is right now, you with every advantage.”

Thor surged to his feet, Mjolnir suddenly in his hand as he stood before Hera. “What of those of us who have lost everything? The ones who bore the brunt of the storm while you all rested in safety? Would you have us stay that way forever, until we dwindle away into nothing?”

“Step back from her, Saxon,” said Arthur.

Thor turned, very, very slowly, to look upon Arthur. “And what will you do, little man, if I decide not to?”

Arthur stood, resting a hand upon the pommel of Excalibur.

“Peace!” Hera said, the strength of her voice ringing from the walls, giving everyone present pause. “How can we hope to have harmony between the pantheons if we cannot even forge it here amongst ourselves?”

“Perhaps you have answered your own question, Hera,” said Thor, his glowering eyes not leaving Arthur’s.

“How about we put the talks on hold?” Bellona shrugged. “I’d like to see it, to be honest.”

“Be silent,” Hera sneered at the Roman war goddess. She had not anticipated events transpiring this way. What had happened to Thor? Everything was disintegrating, slipping through her fingers like sand.

“You are taking this as an affront against you, Queen,” said Bellona. “It is not. You have just found yourself in opposition to the true nature of things. You stand before a rising tide, trying to hold it back with your hands. You’re going to fail, and you are supposed to.”

“No,” Hera answered, her voice cold as ice. “I will not stand by and allow everything under our protection to burn simply because that is the easier path. The world deserves more than that.”

“Pretty words,” said Thor, “but what does that mean? Asgard needs mortals to rebuild itself.”

“And you think you’ll get them, where exactly?” Bellona raised an eyebrow. “From us? Think again.”

“Something can be done,” said Hera. “We can find a way to help them.”

Bellona looked to the other gods. “Who is going to help Asgard? Who will decide to weaken themselves so that a rival pantheon may grow stronger?”

Silence greeted her words. Bellona looked back at Hera. “You see? Every pantheon will look to its own care first, above all else. If that is the case, then the only way for Thor to gain power is to take it, by force.”

Hera looked to Thor, trying to find something of her old ally in his eyes, but he looked away from her.

“Accept it,” said Bellona. “This is the way of things. You try to warp nature into something it is not, because you think it might be better, but it is a fantasy. If Thor wants to take what is mine, he can meet me on the field and try his luck. That is how it should be, my Queen, we all know it, and it is time you know it too.”

Ra cried out, his staff ringing as it clattered to the floor. He doubled over, a hand clutched to his chest.

“Ra?” said Hera. “What is it?”

“Something,” Ra gasped. “Something has happened. I must go away, now. I must return home.”

“Please,” Hera implored, fighting to maintain the fragile order rapidly crumbling away within the Council. “Ra, I beg you wait until an accord can be reached.”

“No!” Ra threw out his arm, and his staff flew from the ground back into his grasp. He hurried to the doors, stopping short just as they opened before him.

“I applaud your vision, my Queen,” Ra looked back at Hera. “The search for peace is a noble pursuit, no matter how many might call it folly.”

The doors closed shut behind him.

***

The portal flashed into being, and Ra’s silhouette darkened its center as he passed through into the palace. The throne room was silent and shrouded in darkness but for the faint light from the setting sun that failed to penetrate the gloom. Egyptian head bore down upon him, even through the walls, its intensity just beginning to cool with the coming of night. The familiar air washed over his senses, bearing the dust and spice of his kingdom.

Another, different spice filled Ra’s senses as the portal vanished behind him. It was a vital, metallic scent, one that he knew all too well. It made his head swim, almost overwhelming, bearing an intoxicating richness that was impossible for any mortal creature to possess.

A god’s blood.

Ra’s eyes fell upon the shape lying on the floor before him, an island at the center of a slowly expanding pool of divine crimson. He recognized the face staring blankly up, slack and lifeless. The sun god felt his heart clench in his chest, and the world threatened to collapse beneath him.

“Osiris?”

It was only then he realized he was not alone. A figure stood a few steps back from the body, his hands shaking as they glistened with the blood of his friend.

“You!” Ra spun his staff, sending a blazing current of fire down its length. The fire illuminated the room, revealing a hawk’s face and a body clad in golden armor, framed by sweeping, snow-white wings.

Ra leveled his staff at the stranger. “What have you done?”

“Me?” Venom laced the figure’s words, a barely contained rage. “This act, this murder, was not by my hand. But you may rest assured that I know the very soul of the one who did, and no matter where he goes, no matter how long I must hunt him, I will bring him to account. I will have justice.”

Ra hesitated at the speaker, his grip on his staff faltering a fraction. The sheer conviction in the words, he was somehow certain that this being was not the murderer. But if it was not he, then who?

“Why wait?” another voice whispered, as a long shadow stretched out across the ground from the darkness. “There is no need to hunt me, my dear brother. For I am right here.”