[h3][center][color=ed1c24][b][i]"Beyond the great vision was a veil. Beyond that veil a dream. Where did it go? None would know and yet all would see. Dancing across planes and dimensions until there was none left. But where we found none we realized that we had merely scratched the limitations of the divine. Horrifying and yet beautiful."[/i][/b][/color][/center][/h3] [hider= The First Cycle] [center] [hr][h2][b][color=#953553]Vak’Thuum[/color][/b][/h2][hr] [/center] [i]Roaring flame. A great mass of greyish blue ripping through the atmosphere and heading towards the one place that was coated with a cool color. Tentacles swimming like waves through the current of the skies as one by one they undid themselves upon the divine form. Black water dripped as he sped down, sending the strange liquid of condensed energy across the planet. Perhaps in another time and place it would have looked like the final days, but here it merely marked the first of many.[/i] [i]Thuuum! Great waves of water roared from the impact and there Vak would rest in blackened waters. Sinking deeper and deeper into a bubbling void.[/i] [i]Quiet. Nothing but the stillness of the dark and memories of that cage. He had made himself evolve and within swirled countless thoughts. It was time to give this gift- and burden- to another. A tongue that gods could understand and mortals could learn.[/i] [color=ed1c24][i][b]Give life to the lifeless. Give form to the formless. Produce possibility and break the chains of limitation. Arise and be whole.[/b][/i][/color] [i]Whipping tentacles and words of power flowed through the dark waters. The only glimmer of life within the red eyes which watched as darkness became a shimmer and a shimmer became a spark. Tentacles glowed with a purple light, swirling and caressing and molding the arcane within. Arcane became manifest as flesh. Growing wild and into a visage not so unlike its creator. Tentacles sprouting from a blackened mass with sprouting limbs of lightly webbed and clawed hands. Armored with scale skin with razor sharp bone ready to press out from where they rested. Then there was the rest. A mixed form. Humanoid in shape with the artistry of a unisex being. Perhaps one could argue they were more feminine than not, but they were functional for the purpose that was forming. What inspired this- or the sharp teeth they now spoke with- one could not fully know. But the arcane entity at the beginning of time held some resemblance. The being cried out in the dark and it demanded answer. Vak, without hesitation, would oblige.[/i] [hr] [center] [color=7ea7d8][h1][b]Sivmouri, Unknown Southern Isle[/b][/h1] [h2][i]Rite of Passage[/i][/h2][/color] [/center] Thunk! Sink! Slash! Thwack! [i]Bone blades crashed against one another, driving the siblings of the pit to grind in the dance of the low light sky. Hidden by fog where two burning red suns suffered to illuminate the ground beneath them. Advance, flee, advance, lunge, flee. Hop to one side and then the next. Feint- then strike! Blood. Dripping dark with a blue tone from the arm's rage. Spraying across the red sands with a violent stroke of brush the gift of life ran quickly into the arms of entropy. Despite this, or rather because of this, the wounded roared. A scream of confusion. A declaration of pain. Most of all, however, it was a demand for revenge. Scrambling, the wounded quickly crawled across the sands with tentacles tossing sand with every strike upon the earth. Battle-cry screeching and arms cutting at air as though they could undo the fabric of the stars. Given enough strength- perhaps they could. Such was the way the battle scarred had treated it. A dash back had left its mark upon the sands and tips of bones clashed once more. Echoes hurried across to deliver their message to long cold bodies which draped the red in black. Frenzied. Once given the strength of the inner fire they are given lethal hands. Speed increases and the drum within follows the pace of their fury. But this is no issue for this one. Battle scarred as they were it would hardly be news to one such as Sivmouri. Chosen of the Mouri. Warden of its people. Blood Crazy Octari. But despite their acknowledgements they were of level head for times such as these. Alakumohr was vicious and powerful. Stronger shoulders meant a stronger grip. As much as Siv reveled in the idea of ripping them apart- it was clear that Alaku would simply rip Siv apart if given the chance. This would not do. Make haste instead and buy time. They danced, blades singing and tentacles dragging again and again and again until the enraged Alaku shoved in and drove bones to crash against the falling Siv who rested now against the ground. Drive them through the skull and end it now! Tentacles wrapped around arms as they came in. Slowing the force behind the plunging finish until it was but moments from crashing against the gritting teeth of the Mouri. Seconds of standstill later and a grin dawned upon Siv's blood thirsty face.[/i] [b]"Lost too much blood, Alaku. Continued to lose too much blood. Wasted the gift until you were made dry."[/b] [b]"Still enough to end you, Siv! Still enough to become Vak'thuum's chosen!"[/b] [i]Tentacles of the Mohr pressed against the ground, driving the warrior closer and closer with drooling mouth opening to ease upon the Mouri's neck.[/i] [b]"Still not enough!"[/b] [i]With their own tendrils the Mouri spread the arms wide, leaving the blades to crash into the sands. Left hand retracted blade and grabbed at jaw, slamming mouth shut before pressing back and to the side. With a roar right arm was pulled back and at the end of the bellow it ripped through neck and settled into the pulsing core. A cry of pain, then a slumping of the arms, and finally the toss of Mohr to the ground beside. Crawling to a crouch the Mouri hovered over the Mohr, blood stained teeth showing death in their reflection. [/i] "Siv... waste not the gift... as I have..." [i]Alaku requests breathing slower with every passing moment.[/i] "Our rites are the same, Alaku. I will waste none of it. Of this my word is true. Find rest in the dark abyss." [i]A moment later and Sivmouri would sink their teeth and take their fill. A moment after that and they would stand tall with blades retracting back into their arms. Turning Siv would stare into the suns above. Impossibly large and far away. Yet there they would declare themselves to the light above.[/i] [b]"This one has survived the pact that we Octari have made! Bless us now- sacred Vak'thuum! Give us strength for we have shown you our will! Whether it be beast of the land or the tribes we form we will conquer and perform our duty!"[/b] [i]Silence. A long and drawn silence which echoed across the night sky. A silence so long that doubt could settle and turn legs to jelly. But Sivmouri stood tall and simply awaited response, staring with crimson eyes staring right back. A grand tentacle emerged from the shores. Tall as the great trees in the forest beyond. Then a voice rang from the suns beyond. [/i] [b][color=#953553]"Sivmouri. The gift you seek has come with its price. Your fate was your own and though your options were many, this is the road that the Octari will travel by your pact. In accepting this- you will sacrifice what you are to be reborn. Do you accept in knowing this?"[/color][/b] "I do. We all did by our bond. Let us be enriched and understand and made anew. We will be your tools of growth for our sake and creation beyond." [i]More tentacles came. They slithered across, impossibly large, and took hold of the cold bodies left from the rite of passage and brought them back into the black waters. All the while large runes formed around Sivmouri, lighting the ground with a blue glow. For a moment Sivmouri shivered. This life had only just begun and so quickly it would come to end. When given the choice to live free or become instruments of fate they chose to surrender themselves and to understand. They would either serve the dark waters and its master or not live at all. But with death so close- their demise so certain, Siv couldn't help but find strength in closing their eyes. [/i] [b][color=#953553]"Then let it be done. Be made anew and rise once more."[/color][/b] [i]As Siv opened their eyes to the sound of rushing water it became clear that the tree tall tentacle as now as a mountain. So large, wide, and tall that it blotted out the sun. Now the mountain was falling- falling onto them.[/i] [b][color=#953553]"Be not afraid."[/color][/b] [i]They hold their breath and close their eyes, stretching arms wide open. Thuum.[/i] [hr] [i]Light rose over the shores of sparkling water where the trees stood tall and the sun rose higher. Shuffling across sands an Octari joins others in ritual observation. The spark of life within all shines through their eyes as they raise their heads to the spire surrounded by black ooze radiating with an infectious power. Upon it, the visage of their champion with claws stretching to pull across shoulders buried deep into the spire's core. They gathered in prayer and in hope. A weak collective- deadly- yet without their greatest warriors. Let the laws of their ritual dictate their fate. This they believed and this they hoped would make them strong. They waited in silence until the sky fell with blood. A crimson storm washing them with doubt. An omen perhaps? They did not know. It was not as the water, but was as the blood of beasts. Chattering turned to rioting of chaos until the spire cracked with a primordial gurgle. Silence. The cracks grew exponentially and the visage began to scream. Fear settled into the eight legged creatures and not long after they were frozen with their acceptance. Bursting from the spire came the ink blood of their kin who fell into the black spawning pool beneath. They were- different. What once stood as a creature of six feet now stood at a towering ten. Their arms were bigger and their shoulders wider- draped with thick scales and outward spikes. Bone blades which were once doubled of edge through grinding together now danced with serrated edges. Their left arm was coated with a black finish and a purple glow. It was altered- burning with the smell of Vak'thuum. Their face was now detailed with sharper features, wider and armored just the same and their once green eyes now burned with two blazing suns identical to that of the light in the sky during the ritual. Flaps of thick tentacles which once fell from their head now was accompanied by tendrils which seemed to act upon their own. What was further is as they came from pool they cut across the sands with bladed tentacles armored with a thicker hide. They were a monster Tendrils from their back flowing out with arcane energies. Blood of the fallen dripping from their mouth as they began to speak. [/i] "I have become the death of our fear! Rejoice for we shall carry in the will of our creator. All shall grow with change and the faith of the bold will be the very foundation! Once more we have been given choice. As Takiczar of the Octari I declare that the Legacy of The Mouri is as thus- We shall conquer and spread the sacred R’kava to all land and ocean. Sharpen your blades, 'Tari, the lesser will know our fury!" [i]A moment stamped with bone blades raised and blood rain giving them a thirst for the very same. Those who would be born under the Mouri rituals would inherent this crimson change. Crimson skinned Octari of minorly increased size, but given adapted form to be a lesser reflection of the warlord who now slithered alongside them. [/i] [hr] [center] [b][color=ed1c24]"Legacy of Mouri" Analysis: Extreme lethality. Higher speed. Thicker armor but the sequence is not as mountains. Serrated blades may be capable of mining minerals and cleaving thin trees under augmentation. Energy conservation has greatly degraded. Intelligence has minorly degraded. Empathy has minorly degraded. Conclusion: Mouri spawn pools produce bloodthirsty Octari. Variation prefers carnivorous behaviors but is not especially sustainable. Higher numbers may result in the death of many species or cannibalistic practices. Variation is still vulnerable to piercing. High mobility and ability to convert energy with speed is worth considering for future sequences. Perhaps a sac that can be woven into new specimen? Reserve for future thought. Arcane tendrils allow them to orient themselves in the world with a capability for runic augmentation. Irony: lack the intelligence to properly utilize tendrils. With time- they may do so. Expansionists will spread R'kava of their own accord. Intriguing.[/color][/b] [/center] [/hider] [hider=Summary] Summary: When Vak'thuum awakens from his nap in the void he crash lands upon Galbar. In the southern seas he creates life in pure R'kava waters and creates the Octari. Given their own will and the task to spread the ink by their own will. The Octari choose representatives of their tribes and initiate a blood ritual to determine their first champion. Sivmouri of the Mouri becomes victorious and after being transformed by Vak'thuum pledges to spread the ink and their influence to land and sea through conquest. [/hider] [hider=The Might of Evolution] 3 MP - Creation of the Octari 1 MP - Blood Rite Champion - Sivmouri 1 MP - (Blessing) "Mouri" Gene Sequence is created 1 MP - (Holy Site) Great Spire Spawning Pool of Mouri is established. [6MP Spent in total.] [/hider]