Lord Zee

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Moss III

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The sun beat down on them as they tread down a decline of rough dirt and coarse grass dotted with wild flowers. Rahdayo and Teefee walked at the front, the two talking and laughing as they went. A budding relationship that she could only feel… What? Excited? Content? Fearful? Moss shook her head. Zafrina walked just before her, carrying not only the wrapped burden on her back but some man's growing child in her womb. A man who would never know it existed. The goblin still wanted to curse her out for her stupidity but it wouldn't really be beneficial. Zafrina had survived twenty-four winters and by all accounts was an adult. She knew the consequences of such an action and now she had to bear it or choose whatever she wished for it. There were other ways, after all. But that would just be between the two of them, for now.

She covered her eyes as she looked up at the Itzala, the sun. Moss always had the strangest feeling that it was watching them and not in a good way. She looked over her shoulder back to endless openless. This hilly expanse of land was almost deserted, save those animals that called it home. Still, she felt like she needed to be alert. One could never be too careful.

Eventually Zafrina had lessened her pace to walk beside Moss. The goblin was always jealous of those with longer legs, being able to walk at whatever pace they chose. Hmphm. She eyed Zafrina, the stoic talyrian looked contemplative as she stared ahead, no doubt at the other two.

“Are you well?” Moss asked her.

“I’m fine.” Zafrina replied, glancing at her.

“You know, we never did finish our discussion about those two.” Moss said, lowering her voice. Teefee might not have been the sharpest tool in a shed but she did have good hearing. “Do you want your brother to be happy?”

Zafrina pursed her lips. “Of course I do. She… She makes him laugh. He needs that.”

Moss smiled softly at that. “I haven’t known Teefee as long as I have known you, Zafrina. She may be dumb and prone to her own vices but have you considered she might actually want your brother as a husband?”

The goat girl blinked and looked at Moss incredulously. “Would her people even let that happen?”

Moss considered before saying, “Sometimes Teefee talks about her older sister, Shahari, and how she would be arranged to someone far away. Unless other cat clans exist, I assume it is possible. I mean,” they both looked at Teefee, who had spotted a bird flying past and was now chasing it, much to Rahdayo’s chagrin. “If they’re all like her, I think it would be easy to set up.”

Zafrina's tinkling laugh made Moss look back at her with an eyebrow raised. “To that, I think you might be right, master.” she said before her face slackened. Then she asked, in a very quiet voice, “He should stay with her, shouldn’t he?”

Moss nodded. “Traveling companions often become more on the road. It would be best if he did stay with Teefee, settled down, maybe cook for a living. Your brother is wasted like this.”

Zafrina sighed. “I don’t know. It would be difficult without him. For me.”

“Zafrina.” Moss said in a gentle voice, “You should stay with them too.”

The girl whipped her head to stare at Moss. A flash of pain behind her eyes was evident before they narrowed. She stopped walking, so did Moss as the two fully turned to one another. “No.”

“Zafrina…”

“No. I refuse.”

“Zafrina.”

“You can’t make me leave you. It isn’t fair!” Zafrina bawled her hands into fists, leaning forward as she did. “I’m not cut out for some homebody life.”

Moss held up a hand to silence her. “You have life growing within you. You would be severely hampered on the road when you begin to show. You have to start thinking about more than just what you want but that of your baby, Zafrina.”

The girl’s face contorted with anger but she shut her eyes and then exhaled a long breath.

Moss went on, “If you think I’m saying this because I don’t want you along, that wouldn’t be true. But please, Zafrina, sometimes we all have to make difficult decisions for the ones we love.”

“I don’t love it.” Zafrina snapped. “It’s a stupid mistake.”

“Do you truly believe that or are you just saying it?” Moss asked.

To that, Zafrina did not have an answer. Moss slowly approached her, the girl’s expression downcast. She took her hand and said, “We know nothing of the future right now. Things may come to pass yet that change our decisions. But you must think on what I’ve said. Again, it will be alright.”

Zafrina nodded and the two began to walk again. It seemed Rah had gotten Teefee back in line as well, as the two were now holding hands as they walked. Each time something caught the cat girl’s attention and she would begin to go after it, Rahdayo tugged her along. Her tail swished back and forth but it didn’t look like she was protesting.

When the sun was beginning to dip overhead, and their feet were growing worn of the day’s travels, Teefee was the first to spot it. The two paused in their walk and waited for Moss and Zafrina to catch up.

She pointed up ahead, to a copse of trees, as the land was gradually shifting back to wooded areas, interspaced with long stretches of grassland and meandering rivers.

“Mistress!” Teefee said, “Teefee sees people.”

“Do you now?” Moss looked out towards where she pointed. Indeed, two wagons highlighted by the beginnings of a fire.

“Hmmm. Come on then and be prepared. Let’s see what’s up here.” The three began to follow their mistress towards the fledgling camp, with little protest. She glanced at them occasionally and found that their eyes were ahead. Zafrina behind her, Rahdayo in the middle and Teefee at the end, almost clinging to Rah. The cat looked oddly protective, which was a good sign.

As they got nearer, Moss could smell the smoke and something savory cooking in the wind. It made her stomach growl. The two wagons had been pulled by great lumbering beasts, almost like a horse and a cow had a cross- she had really never seen anything like them as they grazed from the grasses nearby. She could see people too and they had obviously seen them as a few were walking out to meet them.

Moss stopped a respectful distance away in the twilight. Deep purples tinged with the faintest red were upon the horizon. That view never did get old. When the two men stopped, for they were men, humans by the looks of them, she spoke. “Hail travelers! We come in peace.”

A short squat man with a faded hat spoke, his voice older, “Well met upon this fine evening, madam. What business do you have in these parts? Haven’t seen many folk about, if I do say.”

“We could say the same!” Moss confided, “Our business is our own, no offense good man, but we are simply traveling north towards the big cities.”

“The big cities aye? Plenty of those along the coast, strange way to travel across the land to get to those.” the man said.

“Ah but it is! If I had some wealth to my name, I’d have chartered a ship straight to the narrows of Thysia and Sylann but I thought my pupils needed some well worn practice of dealing with foot sores, so here we are.”

The older man chuckled. “Fares fare. You seem a harmless lot but one can never be too careful these days. Come on in, we’ve got food and a fire.” he waved and a relief washed over Moss as she began to walk over.

“I understand that,” Moss nodded, “But I can assure you, you won’t regret letting us sup with you. I’ve two Talyrians with me, who know a thing or two about cooking. They’d be delighted to whip up a trail feast.”

As they met up with the men, Moss could see that the speaker was an older human, as she thought, with a graying beard. The one with him was a youth perhaps the same age as Rahdayo. Both had dark brown eyes and well worn clothes. The younger man had keen eyes on Zafrina, the most girl blushed ever so slightly.

“Names Percy and this is my grandson, Pieter. Now we’ve not heard of a Talyrian before but if they know how to cook, that’s always welcome.”

“They call me Moss, and this is Zafrina, Rahdayo and Teefee.” she pointed at each. “And yes, I’m sure you will have no complaints.”

They all began to walk back towards the wagons. Percy said, “Say, you’re one of them goblins, miss Moss? Haven’t seen one since I was a younger man.”

“Is that so? And here I thought my kind scuttered about everywhere.”

“Me and my folk, we keep to ourselves. Haven't seen the likes of any of your companions before either, truth be told. Ain't anyone's fault.”

“Ah. Yes, I haven't seen much of humans to be fair nor any others that look like my friends here. Teefee hails from the plains of Pantheras, nearer to Thysia than we are now. Rah and Zafrina are brother and sister. Talyrian folk who come from the deep south of the Origin.”

“It's a mighty strange world we live in, full of interesting folks.” Perry said, stopping next to the wagons and jestering for them to follow Pieter. They did so and entered into a most human-like world. All eyes fell upon them, some with fear and others wide with mysticism. Children in small cloth garbs hid behind their parents as Percy introduced them. A wave of tentative relaxation fell over them after that and Moss instructed Zafrina and Rah to help with the cooking. She took Teefee to the side for a brief moment as the camp came to life once more. Someone broke out a flute and drum, beginning to play a quiet soft tune. Background noise for the conversations to come.

“Teefee.” Moss said to her as she grabbed the cat's shoulders and shook her. Teefee let her body sway back and forth as her eyes darted to and fro. There was wide mischievous intent brimming within her. Moss shook her harder and said her name at least three times before she focused on the goblin. Teefee’s eyes dilated as she saw Moss. “Mistressssss.” she pouted, “Let Teefee go, she'll behave. Teefee swears it!”

“Listen to me very carefully girl. Do not,” She leaned in and made Teefee lean down, “Take anything from these people. Keep your hands to yourself. If you do, I will give you a nice scratch later, alright?”

Teefee’s eyes went wider with glee. She began to purr smugly. “Mistress scratches? Teefee will be a good girl for Mistress scratches. Of course. Or course.” Her tail swished to and fro, a mind of its own truly.

Moss patted Teefee’s head and the girl leaned into it, then into Moss altogether. She almost knocked her over but Moss hissed and she backed up a bit.

As the night wove into being and the Hand's light became obscured by clouds, the burning bonfire was the source of many tales. Moss learned that the humans were from a band who had come down from Sylann holdings, after becoming ostracized by Snouters who had taken their lands from them. Thus struck out seven families for a new home. Their voyage had led them far, very far, perhaps farther than any human they knew had gone and still they had not found what they sought. They were kindly people who were in hard times but they were surviving all the same.

As children, with their giggling laughs as they chased and were chased by Teefee, began to settle down for the night, Moss was struck by just how tolerating these people were. Removed by snouters, they had every right to turn her away. To keep their children close and to spit at the food Rah and Zafrina had taken over to cook. But they had not. On the contrary, they loved the food and praised her pupils for it and they had encouraged their children to play while Moss told a few of her own stories. They had welcomed them in without a thought and in such a cruel world at times, it was a breath of fresh air.

“There’s a kingdom south of here called Ahdor.” Moss said, as the conversation had turned to the talk of places. Around the fire now Zafrina sat by her, rubbing pots with a cloth to make them shine. Rahdayo was doing the same, glancing at Moss and Teefee. For the catgirl had done well and now lay her head in the lap of her Mistress, content as Moss massaged her head. She was sure the humans thought it a comical sight but they said nothing. Perry sat with a few of the older men, as most of the women folk had set up tents for slumber and the more able bodied men were standing watch. Moss went on, “You’ll reach Sweetdew first no doubt, nice quaint town. Might even be a good place to call home.”

“Ahh, is that right?” Perry puffed on a pipe, the curls of smoke drifting up in circles. “How do they treat humans, if I might ask?”

Moss shrugged. “Can’t say I say any, but in my experience, if you add and not take from such villages or towns, they welcome newcomers. I take it most of you are farmers? Why else would snouters take your land.”

“Most of us are, that’s true. Some of the women are good seamstresses and old Abrhon was a smithy. Sons are his apprentices. They had to leave most of their things behind to those damnable devils.”

“I’m surprised the local law didn’t aid you, I was under the impression Sylann had a tight justice system.” Moss mused.

One of the men chorted, then hacked on a cough. He spoke, his voice baritone. “The law is only upheld the closer one gets to Sylann. Everyone knows the Assembly only cares for its war mongering and not upholding property law.”

“Well,” Perry added, “I doubt Moss does.”

“You’d be correct.” Moss said, thoughtful. “That sounds just a little concerning.”

Perry nodded. “They say it wasn’t like that at one point in time but with Thysia claiming land north of the river, I suppose the threat was great enough to take seriously.”

The other chimed in, “Oh, there’s never been an open war between the two city-states. It’s all huff and bluff so they can gobble up more land for their own gain.”

“There’s that theory,” Perry nodded. “Another is, ever since the Hand manifested by the Goddess, that she no longer visits the city as much and mortal minds now rule.”

Moss tilted her head at that.

“You mean…” Rahdayo cut in and all eyes fell upon him, “That the Hand,” he looked up at it, or where it should have been visible behind the clouds, “It wasn’t always so?” He sounded puzzled by this, perhaps almost skeptical.

Perry chuckled. “Aye, there was a time when only the stars hung in the night sky. Back when I was around your age.” the old man tugged at his beard thoughtfully.

Rahdayo said nothing more but looked uneasy as others nodded and chimed in. To Moss, it was just something that better lit the night sky. Had not all of creation been created so? It was a strange thought, to be so at ease with the sheer notion of a being capable of such a feat. But hadn't Galaxor created the Dominion and brought time to heel?

“He’ll be thinking on that one for a time.” Moss mused as Rahdayo went back to scrubbing his pots.

“Have any of you ever been to the cities?” She found Zafrina asking.

Perry shook his head. So did the other man. “I saw the great walls of Sylann once but my dad had been in a hurry and we went no further.” Perry confessed. “I don't think any of us have actually been to either. Sorry miss.”

“Strange.” Zafrina furrowed her eyebrows. “I guess I assumed you had, you all seem so learned. Apologies.” She went back to scrubbing, face flushing red.

“Oh now, none of that. No harm in asking questions. As old Nym here says, Sylann's all warmongering nowadays but they still do good. Every child gets to learn. The great university in the city sends out teachers to educate the youths who can't go inside the walls. It's quite a feat.”

Old Nym barked a laugh. “Aye, I'll give them that. At least if you're educated, you can see the perils and flee.”

“But why?” Moss found herself asking. “Wouldn't they want the uneducated for menial labor and farming?”

They shrugged. “What the Goddess wants, she gets and she doesn't want dumb peasants. So now those that back any wars are culpable to them.” Nym said, lips thinning.

“Like any grand place, there is always contradictions and hypocrisy.” Perry added. “We are learned but not enough to have saved our land. Sylann teaches but justice is often not with coming. It's a time of changing winds and we left on them. Still, we are better off than our ancestors out in the wastes, preyed upon by… Well, we shan't go down that road tonight.”

“Fires burning low.” Nym said, getting to his feet. “A pleasant sleep to you all.” He smiled and walked off.

Perry likewise stood. “You may claim this fire as a resting spot for the night. It was a good meal and good company.” He gave a small bow. “Goodnight now.”

They all said farewell to the man, left alone now as the fire dwindled. Rahdayo came over to Moss and Teefee, who by that point had fallen asleep.

“I'll take her.” He said, bending low and wrapping his arms around Teefee. He lifted with surprising ease, cradling her in his arms. She puzzled her face into his chest as they lay down next to the fire. Moss rubbed her hands together and watched as Zafrina lay down on the opposite side of them. Moss was about to lay down as well but hesitated. Where was…? Panic struck her as she looked for the bundle. Not seeing it she went over to Zafrina and hissed, “Where's the bundle?”

Zafrina snapped an eye open and grimaced. “It should be where I left it.”

“And where is that?”

She sat up slightly. “You said start cooking so I sat my pack down and…” Her eyes trailed over to her pack, the bundle was gone. She sat up and they each looked at one another before the search was on.

With Zafrina at her side, they quietly began looking over the camp. Only a few were still awake and they had to act nonchalantly about their business. The only others awake were the… Watchmen. Moss walked to the outskirts of camp and sure enough they began to hear hushed whispers behind the wagons and the dim light of a torch. Several young men stood around an object glowing faintly. The torch cast them in a sinister light.

“See, I told you. I did, I told you.”

“With this… we could take back our land!”

“Get our revenge on those fucking pigs.”

“But what of them? We can't just steal. It ain't right.”

“What ain't right,” came a silky smooth voice, “Is that they carry this around, wrapped up, so no one can see. So go on Damyl, pick it up.”

“No!” Moss shouted.

Moss rushed forward, the sound of her shout made the men turn and jump. “Don't you dare touch that.” She snapped with anger. Two of them took a step back, while the other three looked at her, unmoving. Moss came to a stop before them, her hands moving to her daggers. With any luck, Zafrina wouldn't be noticed moving behind them. “Step away. Now.” She commanded.

They didn't move.

“Why should we listen to some green skinned brat?” One of them said. She hadn't seen him before. A gangly man with long dark hair and sharp features.

“We should do as she says.” One piped up, the same who had been against the stealing in the first place. He was a bit pudgy, thick of face but lean of build. By the gods he was tall.

“Shut up!” Someone hissed, she couldn’t make out which one. The torchlight was beginning to fade.

That silky smooth voice said, “It’s ours now. Pick it up Damyl.”

“Why don't you pick it up Pieter?” The one called Damyl chimed back, it was the man with sharp features. He looked hesitant. She shoved that aside as she took in the new name.

“Pieter? But your grandfather-” Moss began before being cut off by a laugh.

“Those senile old men don't know what's best for our people. And it isn't these wilds or some town in the middle of nowhere. My dad was butchered by those fucking pigs, they'll get what they deserve. Pick it up Damyl!” He hissed.

Damyl began to lean over and Moss stepped forward shouting no. The man hesitated as if second guessing himself, Moss threw her dagger, aiming for his hand but it was too late, Damyl picked it up.

He screamed as a great blade cut a swath before him at lightning speed, cutting the dagger Moss threw in a blink and severing the left hand of Pieter. All the men fell to the ground in a panic. Pieter screamed and the camp began to wake.

The sword then lifted itself high, for Damyl had no authority over it, and radiated the grand beauty of its creation. Shimmering silver, like moonlight itself, erupted and bathed them all in its pale glow. “Drop it!” Someone shouted but Damyl only screamed with lungs not of his own. Moss stared in abject horror, unable to do anything. Memories flashed before her. Her cousin picking it up after being told not to. The pain in his face… The same in Damyl’s and then… Damyl’s veins coursed with a bright light, starting from his hand and pulsing down, down, down. Where his veins were visible, the light spread until Damyl was a living star. Just like Desmond, he exploded with a violent burst, sending shards of light outwards.

One cut her cheek as it passed, she didn’t even blink.

When the shards faded to dust, the sword floated back to the ground like a leaf. The only sounds were of Pieter crying. Yet, there was something else… Something that had not happened before. One of the men had not fallen like she had thought, instead, he stood over the sword and then glanced at her. It was the tall one with the big head, except, his face wasn’t quite right. It looked like it was shifting? Were her eyes playing tricks on her? No… She took a step back as the man’s forehead just… Fell away in a bloody splat to the ground. This revealed a thing of pure nightmares as a glowering red eye seemed to form, then blinked at her. His body began to contort and break. People began arriving and shouting in horror.

It opened its mouth and a scream-like wail exploded forth, causing her to grab her ears in pain. The wail continued as the thing’s, for this was no longer a man, tore, then ripped open causing the scream to end with sudden force as it was replaced with a gurgle. The thing fell over, spasming on the ground as it gasped for breath until it stilled.

The worst part of it however, was somewhere, deep in that dark land, it was answered.
Moss turned to the travelers.

“Run!”

summary

Moss and gang keep on traveling and talk about the future. Eventually they run into some fellow travelers on the road, humans! And some great conversation takes place. Things take a turn for the worst when Moss notices her bound bundle is missing however…

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Moss II

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An old weathered face looked at them with lifeless, cold eyes. Aged it was, covered in vines and half buried by a bed of earth. It was not made of stone but the light from the early dawn cast it in such a way, it looked as if it were. But one quick tap let any see it was of metal, still rust free after countless days passed. An ancient sleeping, waiting, but for what?

Teefee began to climb the head, as all cats were want to do on an object that dwarfed them. Moss snapped her fingers and said to the girl, “Don't.” At Teefee’s puzzled look, Moss explained, “Sometimes it's best to leave well enough alone. Let it rest undisturbed by us.” Teefee pouted but otherwise obeyed. They had reached an old forest where well worn paths had become overgrown, if any existed at all. The morning light barely penetrated through the tops of the trees. It was dark within those gnarled boughs but not so entirely to thwart passage. Interspaced within the woods were large barren patches of earth. Like someone had come along and taken everything living or had cut it all away. Occasionally there would be a large metallic object within the clearing or scattered throughout the woods, much like the old head. Light peered down through the clearings at least and illuminated the surrounding trees, many of which grew… Wrong. They grew away from the clearings, as if unable to touch within. They were gnarled trees of no definite species, almost black of bark with diseased looking leaves, if any grew at all.

Suffice to say, they steered clear from those places. Moss couldn't help but feel unnerved by them and at times they all fell silent when close to one, and she felt the strangest melancholy. She didn't even have to tell Teefee to stay away, the cat girl’s hair always stood on end and she put Rahdayo in between her and the clearings. When they had reached the head, in the night of last, they had assumed it was just a boulder and Moss had decided to take a break for the day.

Only now did they see what watched over them in the night. The path they took was one she had only heard of but it was a shortcut, supposedly, in such uncharted lands. It would take them closer to their destination, if they managed it. So far nothing had happened. The clearings were eerie, yes, but nothing came of them in the dead of night. Granted, they had camped out of sight of any so far and Moss would keep it that way.

“Why is this place,” Rahdayo began as they started to pack up, “So…”

“Strange.” Zafrina finished for him.

Moss took a moment as old memories burst free from their cages, filling her mind with voices she knew as a child. She smiled at that and then said, “Listen for a moment.” She stopped putting away things and placed her hands on her lap. Rahdayo and Zafrina followed suit as Teefee hummed to herself before being elbowed by Zafrina. She hissed low and then fell quiet, most likely more out of embarrassment. It wasn't silence that enveloped them but life itself. Birds chirped and sang their lullabies. Insects buzzed with their melodies. Some animal called out deep in the forest, only to be answered in a tree above them. They looked up, it was only a squirrel.

“Is it so strange?” Came the voice of Moss. “The telltale sign of strangeness is silence all around you where it should not be. Even around those clearings, things chatter and sing. No, this place isn't so strange. You just aren't familiar with such woods. Not yet, anyway.”

“But, mistress,” Rahdayo said, eyes yearning, “What caused those clearings? Why are there so many metal parts strewn through the woods? I've never seen the like of them before.” Zafrina and Teefee nodded in agreement.

Moss started packing again but said, “My father told me his great grandfather survived a great ordeal once. Upon the surface, when home wasn't home. The sunlit world was dangerous after all and my great great grandfather ran from its evil to find shelter in the dark. Monsters sought him, but he tricked them at every turn. It was just a bedtime story. I thought.” She stood and looked at the great old face. “It was only when I knew better did I ask if it was true or not. My father told me there was a time when our world was besieged. That creatures so dark and terrible washed over the land, gobbling up any in their path. Like a fat goblin at a feast. He said the gods fought back, for us mortals who could not on our own. Terrible battles took place and the wounds still exist today.” She turned back to them and smirked, “Great granddad was a survivor. He ran for his life and got lucky. Wouldn't be here without him, so, guess that's good.”

Her three pupils looked at one another before Teefee got to her feet and said, “Teefee knows such tales. Papa Kah would tell Teefee and Teefee’s siblings such stories before bed. Mama did not like when we all scrambled into bed with them at night. Papa Kah got a scolding.” She then went back to her humming and started packing before a butterfly flew past and her attention fell upon it.

Rahdayo looked contemplative but it was Zafrina who spoke next, asking, “If it's true, then the gods must have won right? So what became of the creatures?”

“I imagine they were all butchered.” Moss said. “Just look at the size of that head and tell me the body wasn't built to match?” She waved her hand in dismissal. “And if they weren't all destroyed, then they went into hiding in the forgotten places of the world. Nothing like that will be bothering us. Only bandits. If we're lucky.”

Both Rahdayo and Zafrina blinked. “Lucky?” they both said.

Moss laughed.

---

It was a most uneventful travel, all things considered. They had left the forest three days ago, after a week within and the country had given way to sparse grasslands, dotted with an occasional hill or deep gully. On one such hill they had been able to see a long way around them. Mountains dotted the distant horizons to the north. The forest was behind them and the Trees were to the east. The trees, their guiding lights. Wasn't it odd how everyone you met instinctively knew where those trees were? Yet no one would have thought so.

Even her pupils didn't think it odd. They just knew, so she was told. This puzzled Moss some but it wasn't that pressing of a concern. Furthermore, her other concerns were more pressing. Zafrina had turned cold towards Rahdayo and they weren't talking. A common sibling occurrence but one that had grown tiring. It seemed that a dispute, one Moss had considered to be extremely stupid, was actually of life shattering proportions for the two. Zafrina had suggested adding a certain tuber to their supper a few nights back. For a more hearty stock and taste. Rah had denied this and was certain it wouldn't mix well with what he had going on. The fight, if you could call it that, was more of a heated argument about the culinary arts and not getting her way, Zafrina stormed off. If there was one thing Rahdayo had backbone in, it was his cooking.

Now she was being brisk with her brother, who felt guilt when he shouldn't. Time and time again Moss had tried to explain to Rah that one did not need to feel guilt for everything but his heart was just too big. And Moss could tell how much it was bothering him. Every subtle facial tweak at her brushing him off. The sad eyes. He was easy to read and Moss wasn't the only one to pick up on that. Teefee made her move, filling in their silence with chatter and laughs. Zafrina’s coldness only grew. For if there was one rivalry in her party, it was between the girls and their want for attention. Moss just cursed her luck.

On a night where the Hand shone brightest, Moss awoke with a chill. Groggy at first before her senses snapped sharp, she realized two things. One being that the fire had grown to embers and that her three pupils were gone. She felt a surge of panic threaten to knock her senses silly, so she calmed herself. Remembered her training. She quickly got dressed and began to look at the ground around their sleeping pads. Indented grass, footsteps that led off into the darkness. They had camped in the shadow of a hill that led down to a small brook. In the light she could make out nothing until the rustle of grass made her draw a knife, poised to throw.

Yet it was Zafrina who stalked back into their small circle. She froze when she saw Moss and then walked forward. She didn't say anything, indeed her face was a mask of indifference as she got under her blanket and rolled away from Moss.

“Fine.” Moss grumbled. “I guess I'll ask then, what's wrong? Where are the other two?”

Zafrina’s biting whisper answered her, “Down by the water.”

Moss waited for anything else but when it didn't come she stalked off, muttering to herself about rude goats. The trip to the creak was short, well usually, but she stopped halfway when she heard the strangest of noises. Like someone was whimpering. Was one of them hurt? Moss felt her heart speed up and she quickened her pace but as she got closer, the whimpering turned to a peel of laughter. Teefee? And then a low moan. Rahdayo? What was she doing to him? Why, she'd wring that cat's neck if she had hu- Moss froze in the pathway. Before her at the brook’s edge were Teefee and Rahdayo. The Hand's light revealed them to be very, very nude. Teefee was on top of Rah. Moving to some hidden rhythm. And it clicked. The whimpering. The moaning. Moss spun and trudged back up the hill, feeling very flustered and foolish.

She reached the camp and instantly attacked Zafrina, jumping on her and shaking her shoulder. “You could have spared my eyes that, you stupid g-” She stopped as Zafrina looked at her, blue eyes watery, rimmed with red and cheeks stained wet. Moss sighed, deflating at the sight. Zafrina stared at her, rubbing her eyes. She looked… Sad? Sorrowful? Moss reached out her hand and touched her pupil's cheek. “Let’s talk.” She said in a soft voice.

After throwing some wood on the fire, Moss wrapped herself up in a blanket and sat beside Zafrina. There was silence between the two and one Moss would have to break, as Zafrina just stared at the kindling flames.

“Zafrina. Please tell me you aren't upset because you wanted t-” Moss began but was cut off as Zafrina turned to her, eyes brimming with a familiar anger.

“You're joking right?”

Moss raises her hands in defense. “Alright, not a great question to ask I suppose.” She smiled and Zafrina rolled her eyes. “Then what's this all about?”

Zafrina sighed and looked away. “He shouldn't be doing that with her. She's… Not right for him.”

“Oh?” Moss asked, putting her hands out towards the fire. It was warm on such a chill night.

“She’ll hurt him. I know it. She's just a stupid girl and he's a foolish boy who can't say no.” Zafrina scowled, anger in her voice as she stood up and began to pace. “Teefee is always going on about being sold into marriage. How she can't wait to go home. And then she goes on leading my brother like this? She'll leave him after using him. He'll be… Devastated. I can't… I don't…” Zafrina looked pained, words difficult for her. This was odd, she was usually so full of quips.

Moss shut her eyes for a moment, thinking about that one time Renny and Delo, her cousins, had been fighting over the same girl. This was strangely similar but still different enough to make her choose her next words carefully. “Zafrina. Why didn't you stop them, then?”

At the question, Zafrina sighed and sat back down. “It would not have gone well if I did. He already hates me.”

“Hates you? Please. He's your brother. He could never hate you.”

Zafrina looked Moss in the eye, “Then why won't he speak to me?”

Moss squinted her eyes. She wasn't serious, was she? Oh for the gods sake, she was. Moss opened her mouth to speak, framing it as delicately as possible, “Zafrina, have you tried to talk to him?”

She opened her mouth to speak but shut it. Zafrina’s eyes cast a look of shame and she looked away from Moss.

“You didn't like when he put his foot down the other day. Over that stew because you thought your idea was better.” Moss said, Zafrina nodded with some reluctance. “Ever since, you've turned a cold shoulder to him. You, Zafrina. You do it all the time. To him. To me. Teefee. It wasn't always like this. This conversation has been a long time coming. So why?”

“Because I'm just a bitch.” Zafrina’s voice was quiet, etched with self loathing.

“No.” Moss blurted but thought better of it, “Well, yes, you can be. So can I. But that's only a symptom of the real cause. So what is it?”

“Thanks.” Zafrina grumbled, before looking up at the night sky. “I guess I…” Her voice wavered, “I'm just angry. All the time. I rarely feel anything else.” She took a deep breath. “I know if I lose my temper I'll hurt the people I care about so I shut them out. It's easier that way. For the both of us. I hate myself, Moss.” She quivered, looking back towards the dying fire. There was something else on her face. Terror.

“I know such anger.”

“No you don't.” Zafrina snapped.

“I do.” Moss said with calm. “My first teacher was murdered in front of me.” Zafrina stilled. “Yes. You aren't the only one in the world to watch people you care about be butchered before your eyes. That anger drove me, consumed me and I ended up hating myself. Just like you. So I tracked down the murderers and I slew them all. All of them and anyone else there at that time, even if they were innocent. After that, my guilt coupled with that anger drove me to a very dark place, Zafrina. I thought about ending it all but time has a way of moving on without you knowing.” She sighed. “My cousin found me, wandering alone. She took me back home. It wasn't pretty at first but it did get better. And you know why?” She looked at Zafrina, whose focus was already on her, “Because they loved me and were patient. I let them in, I didn't push them away. Eventually I left. Not entirely well, never entirely will be but then I stumbled on a couple orphans. The girl, with her blue eyes, she knew them. They had been my own.”

Moss took Zafrina’s hand and squeezed. “I never wanted children. Truth be told. But you've been stuck with me now for a long time and I won't let you suffer in silence anymore. I thought training you would help, perhaps it has, but now comes the hard part. Talking.”

“Tears slid down Zafrina’s face. “How do I start?” She asked.

“Apologize to your brother. Start from there.”

“Okay.” She dipped her chin. Moss squeezed her hand again.

“I am proud of you, you know. You're a brilliant young woman, Zafrina. With so much potential.”

Zafrina said nothing as she nodded and wiped at her eyes. After a time she spoke again, “Moss. There's something else.”

“And what's that?” Moss raised an eyebrow.

“I missed my cycle.”

Moss stared at her in disbelief and opened her mouth to say… She didn't know what. Thankfully, or ironically, before she could say anything Rahdayo and Teefee burst through the brush into the clearing, holding hands and giggling like children. When they saw Moss and Zafrina, Rahdayo blushed a deep red and Teefee’s face became extremely smug with triumph. Moss stood up and pointed a finger at all of them.

“That's it! We're having the talk. Now sit down!”

Summary

We see our trepid adventurers through a forest of ancient days and they discuss such tales. Later the birds and the bees plus a little anger, get thrown into the mix, oh my!

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Moss

---

She couldn't remember her grandparents. Being the youngest of a large family and only a baby when they passed, she could only remember the vaguest impressions of warmth. It was a comfort she clung too when life brought anything but. That wasn’t to say her own parents did not dote upon their youngest and smother her with all manner of affection. But there was always a certain sort of love that only came from the parents of the parents. She would yearn for it in later years, when she grew up with her older siblings’ children and her own parents became grandparents. She would be an aunt to nieces and nephews that could be sisters and brothers in age. Such was her lot in life and with aging parents, she could only see that ache in her heart grow.

So she made a vow. A stalwart promise to herself, to the very gods- She would have no children. It was a contradiction to say the least. Yet she had no desire for growing offspring and no desire to be a parent to them. She saw how her siblings had struggled and the great tolls that were placed upon child and parent alike. If she could have, she would have skipped parenthood and gone straight to being a grandparent. Luckily, she wouldn’t have to be. Once her nieces and nephews began to have their own children and then those with their own(Goblins were prolific, after all), she knew she'd be the best great aunt.

If she ever came back.

---

The body slumped into the puddle with a splash, churning the water dark in that rumbling sky. Rain pelted the landscape in thick sheets that drenched to the bone but even that wasn’t enough to stop them. Moss rolled to the side, avoiding the blade as it cut through the water and hit the puddle where she had been. It was a sloppy strike, overreaching and she took advantage of that by slicing her dagger across the beastman’s sword arm. He let out a great roar of pain, cursing.

“Goblin bitch!” he swung again, letting anger take over. She leaned back, avoiding the strike and then using his momentum to her own advantage by parrying his sword away with her dagger. He staggered to the side and with her other dagger, struck true into his chest. A wet soppy noise, like air being squeezed out of a waterskin, escaped the beastman. He clutched his chest and staggered backwards. Moss twirled her daggers. Always stay in motion while in a fight, even if you couldn’t move. That’s what master Aish had always said. The beastman’s eyes began to glaze over as the malice left his maw. He coughed blood and his sword dropped into the mud. Then he fell backwards with a splash beside his companion. Lighting rippled across the sky.

Moss prowled forward and slid down onto the corpse, straddling the beastman as she pilfered through his inner pockets. The brown cloak was heavy but she managed to secure a few coin purses and a leather-bound satchel. She almost opened it before realizing it was still raining with a well timed boom of thunder. She had grown numb to the cold after removing her cloak and shirt. Now the only thing keeping her bare from the dreary world was the wet wraps around her chest. Only a miracle by mighty Galaxor did they stay in place, not that she cared about solemnity.

She laid a palm on the beaver-man's chest and pushed off of him. Then she went and inspected the other. Some sort of creature he had been, with green scales along the ridges of his face and pale white fur down the middle. Moss shook her head, unable to place what he was, besides dead. She had gotten him in the throat and now his dark eyes stared up at ceaseless rain, unblinking. She found nothing on him of value after a quick search. With a grumble she stood. The two bandits were novices at best and fools at worst. Their mistake had been letting her remove her shirt but perhaps that was the inherent problem with men. They didn’t always think with the head on their shoulders.

“Should have stayed home.” She murmured to herself as she retrieved her discarded things. Her shirt and cloak were soaked through. Putting them on wouldn’t be pleasant but she did so anyway. The thrill of battle was beginning to fade and with it, the warmth in her limbs. The rain was cool and it just kept falling. So Moss placed the coin purse and leather satchel in her pack and hefted it on. Pulling her hood over her head, she began to walk. She left the bodies where they lay.

---

“Mistress!” Rahdayo called, waving cheerily from where he sat once he spotted her in the small crowd along the dusty path. The youth got up, his packs full of cookware clattering to life as he bound his way over to Moss, who had stopped under the shade of a tree. His floppy white ears bounced up and down with every step. It seemed he had been waiting for her outside the town. Sweetdew was its name. A nice cozy nook in the middle of nowhere. Only a passing merchant, who just happened to sell maps, had pointed it out to them.

At the time, Moss had other errands to run without the need for others and the bandit encounter only brought her relief at that fact. It was good she sent her pupils to meet her here.

Rahdayo held out his arms as he approached and before Moss could stop him, he gave her a big hug, squeezing tight. She returned it gingerly, scrunching her nose at the smell of spices coming off him. The once gangly youth had been shorter than her but now, it seemed he had hit another growth spurt. He still lowered his short cropped white hair to nuzzle into her face and she sputtered, “Rah! Watch the horns.”

He pulled away, unconsciously touching the two goat-like horns sprouting from his head. They were a grayish color and beginning to curve outward at the sides. “Sorry mistress, I keep forgetting.” he said sheepishly. Which was, of course, ironic. Since he was part goat, after all. Not with any beast blood that was, but modeled after-

“Talyr be praised, mistress!” Rahdayo beamed a smile, it was infectious. “I’m glad to see you. After all, you missed your rendezvous point! I was about to set off to find you but Teefee insisted we wait another day.” he frowned at that, his unique horizontal eyes ringed with gold, glancing at the ground. “I should have gone.” he muttered.

“Nonsense. You did well Rah.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, then murmured, “What have I always said?”

“A day late means wait.” he grumbled.

“And after that?”

“After the second, you better get to checkin’.” he said, mimicking her voice.

Moss shot him a look and the Talyrian winced, before breaking into a toothful smirk.

“And where is Teefee and Zafrina?” Moss asked, placing her hands on her hips.

Rahdayo blushed, his old habit of looking around when trying to be avoidant was all too apparent. She knew something had happened. So she just sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose before asking once again, “Where are they?”

“Teefee’s at the pillory.” he whispered. “Zafrina is… Occupied.”

Moss felt her face furrow with annoyance.

A moment later, Rahdayo was leading Moss into the town. The bustle and hubbub of trading hours were in full swing. Beastfolk, goblins, humans, even an elf or two- mingling about and bartering. Sweetdew was far away from the region's capital, Ahdor, but still well within its protecting influence. There would always be bandits prowling after the unsuspecting but Ahdorian soldiers patrolled the well worn roads and streets within the Kingdom. Hence the pleasant atmosphere. Past Sweetdew however, there were only the wilds between nations. No man’s land, prowling with all sorts of people and terrors.

It didn’t take long for Moss to notice Teefee. In the bustling town square, off to the right side, sat two raised platforms. Weather beaten and stained, a crowd stood around and gawked. On the highest platform sat the empty gallows but beneath that sat two pillory boxes. The one left of the gallows was empty but the right one held Teefee. The beastkin girl had her arms and head in the pillory and she was facing the floor. Her once pristine white hair was stained with bits of fruit and… Well, Moss didn’t want to guess.

“I told her not to do it.” Rahdayo whispered vehemently. “And then I tried to get her out but the guards wouldn’t have it. Said she was a thief and the punishment could have been worse.” Teefee’s cat ears twitched.

“And Zafrina didn’t do anything?” Moss looked at him. The goat boy paled.

Then he gritted his teeth. “Zafrina has been…”

“Mistress?” Teefee called out. “Mistresssssss?” She pouted louder. The crowd's eyes began to wander and then fall upon Moss as Teefee tried to crane her head up to look at her. “Mistress! Teefee is sorry! Please help Teefee!” She whined.

A few guards wandered over and one shouted at Teefee, “Oi! Quite you.”

Teefee hissed, before a low growl emanated from her. The guard didn’t seem to care much, he was a big burly fellow and a lad no older than Rahdayo sauntered up beside him. Moss craned her neck to look up at them, noting how the burly guard favored his right leg and had a relaxed grip upon his weapon. The younger guard’s eyes shifted nervously, the grip upon his spear firm.

“This one yours?” the burly guard asked, nudging his head to indicate Teefee.

“Unfortunately.” Moss said. “What’d she do?”

“Stole ribbon from a merchant this morning. Tried to run but became distracted by some chickens.”

Moss didn’t let the disappointment show up on her face. “How much?” she sighed.

Once Teefee was freed from her confinement, she had attempted to hug Moss but the goblin held her off. Teefee was a sorry mess and she smelled. She began to lick herself in earnest before Moss yelled at her to stop. Then there was a stern talk between master and disciple. About the proper getaway technique and that becoming distracted over chickens was the dumbest thing she had heard of and that Teefee had done a lot of dumb things. She told Rahdayo to go help her clean up at the creek just outside of town and that she’d be there soon with Zafrina.

She just had to get her first.

As with all vices, she found Rahdayo’s older sibling in the tavern. Not just in the tavern but in a room she had to bust the door in on. She was met with an all too familiar sight. A reeking room.

Strewn out on a thin mattress, with a thin sheet covering her lower torso, was Zafrina. Her long black hair was a mess of curls wrapped around her back facing horns. Her ears were cropped, unlike her brothers, and went straight out on either side of her head. Like goblin or elf ears. She snored softly, not even deigning to wake with the intruder in her room. But oh, the man she had been sleeping with had not only woken but had also stumbled to the floor and was sluggishly putting on his clothes. Moss took note of the wrapped bundle leaning against a corner of the room and tension she hadn't been aware of eased off her shoulders.

“Ma’am.” the man said, stumbling past. At least he was pleasant on the eyes.

Moss flashed a knife at him and he picked up his pace after blinking a few times. Then she took out her water skin and poured it on Zafrina’s face. The talyrian sat up with a gasp, a knife coming up with her. She jabbed at Moss, who caught her wrist and bent it at an odd angle. Zafrina cursed and dropped it. Her pupil seemed to accept her fate, not even trying to fight back any further. Moss frowned.

“You’d be dead if I meant to kill you.” she chided, letting go of Zafrina, who by now, registered who her would be assailant was. Her blue horizontal eyes rolled and she sighed, flopping back down.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, mistress?” She said sarcastically.

“That was sloppy, even for you. Was it the drink or the fucking that addled your brain into inaction?” Moss said, putting her arms behind her back.

“Both I guess.” Zafrina said nonchalantly.

Moss gritted her teeth. “You guess?”

“Yes, mistress.” Zafrina put her arm over her eyes, as if to avoid the light streaming in through the hallway.

“Why is it the gods decided to saddle me with an incompetent thief, a lazy pleasure seeker and her golden boy brother whose choice of weapon is a ladle?” Moss goaded, judging Zafrina's face. At the mention of Rahdayo, those blue eyes grew cold.

She sat up and said, “You can give me all the shit you want, Moss.” She waved a finger at the goblin. “But even you know how stupid it is to talk ill of my brother.”

Moss smirked. “And what are you going to do about it, pupil?”

“We've been down this road before. I'd rather not get my ass beat right now.” Zafrina sighed and laid back down.

Moss nodded, satisfied. “Well, at least you're learning and that hot-headedness of your youth is tempering. Not get around, we're leaving Sweetdew.”

“And why are leaving?” Zafrina asked.”Teefee?”

She nodded. “Teefee.”

---

They found Rahdayo dripping wet as he brushed the very dry (and somehow clean) hair of Teefee as she self groomed in a patch of sun, eyes shut. Rah was humming a simple tune, focused on his work. The water on him gleamed in the light beside the gently flowing creek. In the sand next to the water there seemed to be signs of a struggle. Still, Teefee’s purring was audible as she licked her hands, as were the ways of her kind.

When Moss cleared her throat the two looked up.Teefee's fluffy tail swished at the sight of them while Rah flushed red from embarrassment or perhaps shame, when he saw Zafrina. His talyrian sister had, perhaps unconsciously, begun to twirl a finger in her own hair.

“Save the brushing for camp tonight. We need to start out.” Moss said, folding her arms.

Teefee stood, a full two heads taller than the goblin, her pale yellow eyes but suits. “Teefee is ready to go!” She exclaimed before taking her back from Zafrina, who had luckily kept it with her.

Rahdayo stood after a time, putting a hand through his hair and shaking the excess water off. Moss was surprised at how long he had been able to endure water. Talyrians, and costs in general, hated water. Perhaps it was the more humanoid part of him? As he began to grab his things, Teefee spun and went over to him, before placing a kiss on his cheek. Rah froze as Teefee giggled, running off in the wrong direction.

Once more Rah blushed, turning red as Zafrina walked over to him.

“You'll comb my hair tonight?” It was a question but more of a demand. Moss rolled her eyes. For someone who had forsaken children, she somehow ended up with three teenagers.

“Talk as we walk.” Moss chided and began walking in the opposite direction of the catgirl. “Teefee!” She shouted and the cat changed course. In a moment she was beside Moss, walking backwards to face her. “You owe me you know.” Moss said to her.

“But mistresssss.” She began to whine, a pouty look on her face.

“No buts. We add it to your debt as usual. Looks like you're sticking around even longer.” The goblin grinned.

Teefee folded her arms and huffed. “Once we get to Teefee’s homeland, mistress will be paid and Teefee will be free! Mistress will see. Then Teefee will get to see big sis Shah and papa Kah! Mama Imara will have been worried and all the others will ooo and aww at Teefee's tales!” She outstretched her arms and spun on her heels. “Then Teefee will be sold into marriage and have a family of her own! Mistress will see!” She had an aura of triumph about her.

Moss was about to point out that being sold into a marriage wasn't very free but thought better of it. Would the girl even understand? Moss grimaced as Teefee caught herself from falling. Just from walking. Gods be praised she found her when she did, otherwise Teefee's tales would have been cut very short.

So instead she said, “Whatever you say, Teefee.” Then a mischievous thought popped into her head, “But,” She smiled widely as Teefee looked at her, “But what about Rahdayo?” She half whispered, glancing at the two siblings behind them. They seemed to be in deep discussion about something.

“Rah?” Teefee asked, befuddlement plastered on her face. She paused and Moss saddled up beside her.

“If you are sold into marriage, Teefee dear, what will happen to Rah?” Moss asked with feigned innocence.

Teefee’s left eye twitched. Moss could see her mind making sense of it, coming to some cat reality with each passing moment. Moss began to walk on, the siblings getting closer. The only thing she heard from Teefee was a low hiss, before the cat girl caught back up to her.

“Mistress does not know everything.” She then hmmphed and walked on.

Moss began to whistle. Then she looked back at Zafrina, to the cloth covered item she carried at her back. Her eyes caught Zafrina’s and she looked back at the road in front of her.

“Don’t worry, old friend. We’ll find answers.” Moss murmured to herself, as the road went ever on.

Summary

Wherein we meet a group of nobodies on a vague quest to somewhere.

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Galaxor’s Week

Underground Folly

---

The pulsating mushrooms illuminated the far reaches of that dark tunnel every few seconds. Closer was the red glare of the torch glancing off the damp walls. The air here was not like it was in the Dominion, like home. It smelled of old things, of musk and the occasional stench of decay. There was only a slight current that blew through their loose garbs and the hair that wasn’t stuck with sweat to unwashed skin. How long had it been since they could take a bath? Delight in warmth as the body was cleansed? Not so long surely, but long enough. The tunnel kept going down, down, down. The slope was so insincere. Only the growing warmth was the indication of just how deep they tread.

“I’m hungry.” Barn complained.

“And I’m thirsty.” Julie snapped back.

“Take a drink then, miss thirsty.” Barn said in a low mocking way. “We don’t exactly have food I can just shove into my mouth as we walk, not like you can with a water canteen, now can we?”

“You are insufferable.” Julie hissed.

“Well it takes one to know one.” Barn crossed his arms, head held high.

No words came next, just the crash of two bodies upon the stone. It seemed Julie hadn’t liked that one. The two rolled around as they grappled for domination. A pot broke free from Barn’s pack and lay next to them. Julie, on top and looking for anything she could use to gain the upperhand, found the pot. She brought it high over her head and was about to bring it down before her wrist was seized by a giant hand and she was yanked off of Barn.

“Can you two do anything but fight? By Galaxor!” Came the exasperated voice of Kleer. As Julie struggled in his grip, Barn got to his feet with a snarl. He took a step forward but was stopped when a hand was placed upon his chest by Masy.

She sighed, “Leave it be Barn. You’ll only cause more trouble.”

“Well she-”

“Enough!” Kleer barked. “You’re hungry and she’s thirsty, you don’t need to fight over it just to prove which of you is more insufferable. Haven’t you two learned anything from your schooling days? Use your words, save the fighting for when we have to!” Kleer let go of Julie’s wrist and the young goblin-woman let go of Barn’s pan, cursed something under her breath and began to walk ahead.

Barn, his green face tinged with red, bent and picked up his pot. He muttered something as he took off his pack to readjust it, then wandered off after Julie.

Masy, her ears folded back, watched them go with annoyance.

Kleer’s torch came closer and the great goblin looked down at her. “Your tail is twitching, Mas.”

She folded her arms across her chest and peered up at the bearded goblin. His features sharp and worn. Lines were just beginning to crease his dark green face but his hazel eyes, they had always been kind.

“Their fighting is getting worse.” She began to walk and the big goblin followed in step at her side. “I still can’t believe you’ve dragged us on this adventure and you still haven’t admitted that we are lost, Kleer.” She gave him a side eye.

“Lost? Please. We are simply following in the footsteps of the greats. Weathertop Tomgunny, Bladelink Torl, The gray Healer, the Weasel Trio, the Maxi Gems and who could forget Jaxx! You heard the stories, how he came to the Dominion with his party? How he dined with Maxima!”

“What are you getting at, old man.” Masy yawned, seemingly uninterested.

“Old man, please.” Kleer laughed deep, amplified by the tunnel. “We aren’t lost, we are simply on an adventure Masy!” He gave her a pat on the back.

“Now come on before those two get-” The great goblin and the elven fox rounded a bend in the tunnel, coming face to face with Julie and Barn. The two goblins were not fighting for once as they rolled on the cavern floor. Instead, they were making out as if their lives depended on it. And with such passion, they didn’t even notice their audience.

“Oh by the gods.” Kleer sighed, hand sliding down his face. Masy just rolled her eyes.

---

“All I’m saying is that this new time stuff makes little sense.” Barn said, before scooping a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He chewed as he spoke, “You’re telling me, that if we aren’t in the same timeline, things might go awry?” he swallowed, “But how can that be if I’m looking at you right now, at the same time you’re looking at me?”

The great goblin shrugged. The fire between them cast his face in a shadowy light. The fire crackled once before he spoke, “Time is but a construct that we define. Who's to say we haven’t already been here before, having this exact conversation? Or perhaps we haven’t yet? Perhaps we never will?” he touched the silver band at his wrist, his time anchor device. They all wore one, put on at the same time as a precaution. “Is not time but a fickle thing? Let us leave it to Mighty Galaxor to keep.”

The fire burned more as Barn, eyebrows furrowed, continued to eat in silence.

“It’s for those Diamond gemstones to figure out.” Julie said, coming back with more rootwood for the fire. Masy in tow, having collected more mushrooms for the stew.

As the two settled in around the fire Masy said, “All that time talk will lead you nowhere. We are here, right now, in the present. The past is the past and the future isn’t knowable.”

“But-” Barn was jabbed with Julie’s elbow, who just so happened to sit next to him. The young goblin almost choked.

“But nothing Barn. Masy knows best. She’s a sapphire after all.” Julie said with a bit of pride. Julie’s own deep purple amethyst sat around her neck. Barn gripped his own orange garnet as he looked between Masy’s blue sapphire ring and Kleer’s red beryl earring.

“Gemstone ranks hardly mean anything unless you achieve diamond or onyx.” Masy said as she focused on skewering her mushrooms.

“Oh is that right? But diamond Reginald always said," Here Barn’s voice took on a nasally tone, “If you don’t make at least emerald, you’ll be back studying in no time.”

Julie laughed. “What skills do you have, Barn?”

“Well, the usual, I guess. Good with a dagger. Athletic. Good looks.” Barn took another bite of the stew.

“If you’re so good, then how come you aren’t a diamond guard?” Julie asked.

Barn sat a little straighter at that and waved his spoon at Julie. “Those guys are all bluster. I bet ten shakes none ain't ever gone on an adventure like Jaxx. Like us. Show offs all.”

Julie scooched closer to him and Barn stiffened a little. She whispered something in his ear and his face blushed.

Masy took a bite of her cooked mushrooms as her shifty eyes looked towards Kleer. “Youths are often prone to folly, wouldn’t you say Kleer?”

“Undoubtedly.” he replied, stroking his graying beard as he watched the flames dance.

“You could have hired any veteran of the caves for this journey, but you picked these two enemies to lovers.” Masy made a face and shook her head. “Folly indeed.”

Julie likewise made a face and she showed her tongue in a child-like gesture. “You old timer’s are all business and never fun. If I recall, you’ve never even left the Dominion either, Masy.”

The elven fox, her orangish red hair with wisps of white strands gave Julie an incredulous look. Then she shrugged. “It’s true, I haven’t left the Dominion. But I did leave the Goblin Underground plenty of times.” She smiled with smug satisfaction.

Julie glared in return.

Barn took on a new shocked face as he looked at Masy. “You were… You were born before the Dominion?”

“Of course, Barn. We of elfkind are long-lived.” Masy took another bite. “My parents relocated to the deep in the dawning days of my kind. When we were created in the Goddesses image. Instead of staying up top with the others, they journeyed below. They always did say they preferred the dark to the light, or whatever that meant.”

“They aren’t…?” Barn began to ask.

“Oh heavens no, they’re still around. They live in the upper tier of the Obsidian Reach. Mother teaches and father runs a business selling gems. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Fire Opal?”

Barn and Julie looked at her blankly.

Masy frowned. “Well it’s a big place, home.” And she went back to eating.

“Shouldn’t you be working with your father? Sapphires have plenty of skills, don’t they?” Barn asked.

“Me? Sitting around a shop all day and listening to my father complain about Maxima’s tax policies? No thanks. Besides, the business is going to my little brother and his wife.” Masy said with a tone of bitterness in her voice. Her eyes darted to the fire as she threw the empty wooden skewer in.

“I know what you mean.” Julie said in a quest voice. “I have three younger brothers and three older sisters. I’m the middle child. I’m sure right now they might be wondering where I am but eh.” She shrugged.

“I’m an only child.” Barn confided. “Parent’s split after mom found dad cheating on her with some younger gob lass down the road. It was just my mom and me for a long time. Then she got sick and died. No idea what happened to the old man. I’m sure I’ve some half siblings out there somewhere.”

Masy looked at Barn and she nodded at him. He returned the silent gesture much the same before Julie placed a hand on his shoulder. She pushed back her thick black hair away from her eyes and said, “I’m sorry to hear that, Barn.”

In truth, Barn seemed unbothered but he gave her a soft smile anyway. “Thank you, Julie.” Silence fell for a time, as the two looked at one another.

Masy rolled her eyes and got up. “I’m going to bed. Wake me when it’s my turn to watch.”

Kleer nodded, turning to watch Masy roll out her assortment of blankets. They had found rest in a small, but wide cave. The drip of water hitting the floor had provided them with a fresh source of liquid. When they had all rested, for it was impossible to tell the time so dark below, they would continue on.

“What’s the plan boss?” Barn asked Kleer. The great goblin looked back at the two. “You sleep. Separately. And I take the first watch.”

The two blushed slightly and Barn got to his feet. “That’s not- I meant, It’s been great wandering these caves and cleaning up some monster dens, but do you really think we’ll find it?”

“Yes.” Kleer said, putting his fist into his open palm. “We are close. Very close.”

---

The next few days, if you could call it days or weeks, left them wandering aimlessly in the tunnels far below and apart from the Dominion. They hadn’t seen a fellow Goblin or even A diamond patrol for what felt like an age and still they kept going on. Walking topics of discussion ranged from heroic tales of heroes to the old stories about the defense of the Goblin underground during the invasion of outsiders. Masy was tight lipped during those discussions, as if she didn’t want or couldn’t speak about it.

Barn and Julie fought occasionally but their spats would always be somehow resolved through shared lips. If they were doing more, they were quiet about it. As talking began to become more and more taxing, silence crept in as well as doubt. Kleer had promised a grand adventure, through the depths of the world, all in search of what he called, “The Old Gob.” A rumored figure who granted wishes if found. No one knew if he existed. Perhaps there was a reason old Kleer hadn’t said anything about his own family. Or perhaps it was something else entirely that guided him.

It wasn’t until they were completely lost in the bioluminescent caves of the vast underground that Kleer stopped dead in his tracks. They had arrived at a fork in the tunnel. Their water supplies were running low and they had not found root sap to keep their torches going.

“Well this is great.” Julie said as she fidgeted with her stave.

“What are we going to do Kleer?” Masy asked, the elven fox’s ears twitched as if she was listening for sounds.

“We at last come to the decision.” Kleer whispered. “Right or left. Damnation or salvation.” he seemed to say to himself. “I’ve dragged you all this far. Time to vote. Left or right.”

“Left.” Masy said with little thought. “I hear… Something. I’m not sure what. But the right tunnel is dead.”

“Left then.” Julie said.

“I’m with these two.” Barn added at last.

Kleer looked down the right path with the sort of determination one could only muster if they were absolutely sure of themselves. Then it faltered and he began to walk left. “Left it is.”

The winding path of the dark tunnel, shaped as if something had burrowed its way down or perhaps out, kept them occupied for a long time. They managed to find a drip of water, the noise that Masy had heard. That at least lifted their spirits but as they continued on with full canteens, it became increasingly apparent that the left tunnel was off. The bioluminescence that guided their way and provided food was growing sparser and sparser. Whole sections were lightless, save the torches and even they were becoming wisps. There was no root wood and thus no root sap to sustain a longer fire.

Luckily, all of the party could see decently in the dark. Just one of the perks of being a deep dwelling people. It mattered not if one was a goblin, beastfolk, or elf. Masy also had excellent hearing and a good nose. Kleer was the muscle and boss. Barn was the jack of all trades, able to do most tasks when required. Whilst Julie was their apothecary, their healer in times of need. Making it all the while funnier when she decided to beat on Barn. Each brought something to the party that complimented the whole. They were lucky for it.

For when Masy froze in her tracks, ears perked, she held out her hands to stop them. She was frowning at the inky black of the tunnel that was ahead. No sound came and then all at once Masy shouted, “Down!” and dove to the ground. The rest followed before the unmistakable sound of arrows whizzing came overhead, followed by the clacking of them hitting stone.

That wasn't the worst of it though. A hissing flaming arrow sung past and embedded into the floor behind them before exploding with tremendous pressure. They had seen nothing of the sort like it before, the blast, the terror of it, the ringing in their ears. The rock underneath them quivered, trembling like a child that had been struck by their father, before it gave way entirely. Cracking as if the world had cursed it forevermore.

The party fell for what felt like a lifetime. Panic stricken in the dark, torches lost and snuffed out, it was by sheer happenstance that nothing interfered with their descent. No long ledges jutting out and certainly not the bottom. A flickering light gave way below until Masy could see that it was a great cave full of tall glowing mushrooms. Their light, soft blue, gave the reflection of twinkling stars. She could have sworn, beneath all that sudden doom in her chest, that they had been falling upwards.

Until the bitter cold of icy water blanketed the fall. Now it was a only chance, as boulders and rocks thundered into the waters around her. She swam. Something slick and slimy brushed against her legs but she kept going anyway, up to the light. When she crest the water, and took a great breath of air, she heard Julie shouting for Barn, his own reply muffled.

“Find a shore!” Kleer's voice came above the din and the ringing. Find the shore.

Masy looked around. Julie found Barn with a bleeding head wound while the great goblin that was Kleer swam for his two smaller compatriots.

Masy swam, the cold leeching all warm from her bones but she swam anyways. She found footing on a rocky bottom and her ascent led her to a small sandy bank that she half dragged herself and fell upon.

“O-Over h-here!” She cried out as best she could. She turned back to the water, removing her pack and bow as she rubbed her limbs for warmth. Why was that water so cold?

A large splash caught her eye and she found Kleer, carrying the two goblins, emerge upon the shore. She walked to them in the gloomy light.

“We need a fire. Masy can you find something burnable? Julie, get some dry bandages for Barn ready.” Kleer said in a commanding voice. The voice of a leader. Masy grunted and began to walk off as Kleer set Barn and Julie down. At once the small goblin lass began to fret over a semi-conscious Barn.

“You’re bleeding too.” Julie said, reaching out to Kleer.

The great goblin touched the back of his head and then wiped the blood on his wet tunic. “I’m fine, see to the boy.” And that was that.

The mushroom forest they found themselves in was not without ample kindling and in no time a fire was going that the four sat around. Stripped of clothing save for the essential to warm themselves, while their belongings hung on vines drying in the smoke. Here beyond the fire the world was of luminance. The musky smell of mushrooms was not so unpleasant to the senses and an occasional breeze brought warmth as well as the fragrance of something sweet. The chattering of some small creatures and the occasional splash out on the lake were the only real sounds, beyond distant drips and a low roaring of perhaps a waterfall. No one had the energy to talk after such an ordeal, though their minds were no doubt racing as to what or who had blown up the tunnel and sent them plummeting.

Julie was bandaging Barn’s head, the goblin man looking up at her with rapt admiration. He eventually said, out of nowhere, “Marry me, Julie?”

Masy and Kleer's heads spun to them at the confession.

Julie feigned innocence, “Barn, you're being silly.”

“I am not.” Barn said, using his elbows to prop himself up to look at her. Longing stained his face and his blue eyes were clear. Julie blushed and turned away from him, fussing with the bandages in her bag. “It wouldn't work.” She mumbled.

“Why not?” He said softly.

“Because I'm me and you are you.” She said, flustered.

“You could be a trolley snail and I’d still want you.” Barn said.

Masy bit her lip to avoid laughing at the terrible analogy and Kleer only smirked. Julie turned to look at Barn, with every right to smack him but instead, she placed her hands on either side of his head and kissed him. When they broke apart, faces flushed, she gasped. “You stupid oaf, of course I’ll marry you.”

---

It took them a good long sleep to gather their bearings. Barn needed to heal and Julie was his faithful nurse. Kleer’s own injury was forgotten and he gave no confession to pain. Masy kept herself occupied by scouting and hunting. Not long after they fell, Barn was assaulted by a giant bat that Julie struck over the head with her stave, killing it instantly. For once they had most in their bellies, despite some reservations over eating a pale corpse of a creature. It didn't help when Julie alone threw up after she slept. After that they stuck with mushrooms, tried and true. Though it was curious.

They did not talk of their plight in open discussion either, for Kleer shut them down. Something had begun to change in the old great goblin’s silence. Before the fall he often looked contemplating. Now it was of furrowed brows and muttering. Masy left it alone and the two lovebirds had each other. The fox girl had been in more dire circumstances before, this was just the newest in a long list. The others would cope however they could.

It wasn't until Barn no longer needed to wrap his head that they began onwards. Masy had found a winding path along the cliff-like cave walls that would lead them up to whatever end.

“How deep do you think we've gone?” Barn asked, looking up at Kleer.

“As deep as Galaxor allows.” He shrugged.

“We are far lower than the lowest bowels of the Obsidian Reach. Maybe even lower than the Library.” Masy interjected. “I wouldn't be surprised if we were the first ones to tread here and even so, life goes on without us knowing.” Kleer remained silent, looking ahead. But it was true, the vast Underground was a myriad of wilds that would probably never be explored. Life was as simple as mushrooms or as complex as whatever swam in the cold depths of the lake. The ecosystem thrived with the sounds of insects and the flapping of some invisible creatures. Most of the life gave off bioluminesce much to Julie’s enjoyment but it was a hard life for those not accustomed to it and mortals most of all.

So it came as no surprise to Masy and Julie when Barn murmured, “Well, I'm quite ready to head home.”

It was then that Kleer stopped and spun upon Barn. The great goblin, with his massive hands with root-like strength rippling from his forearms, grabbed Barn by his garb and lifted him into the wall. “There’s no going home!” He roared. Julie went rigid with fear and Masy unsheathed an arrow. “Not until we find what I'm looking for! Don't you see how close we are? Galaxor guides us! He does!”

“Put him down, Kleer.” Masy commanded.

The great goblin snarled and dropped Barn. The small goblin had Julie at his side in a heartbeat, helping him up.

“What's the matter with you?” Masy said, dropping her arrow slightly. “You’ve been off. You don't act like this.”

“The path before us has always been clear. We are close, so close now. We can't go home until we find what we came here to find.”

“The old gob?” Masy asked.

Kleer began to walk ahead. “The Prophet that never was.”

Masy looked back at Barn and Julie and the three shared a look. But up from ahead came a strange sound. Like a small piece of metal had been dropped upon stone. Tink. Tink. Tink. Silence. Masy looked at Kleer, who had frozen. He began to turn towards them but before he could an explosion rippled forth from under him. Masy didn't have time to fall down. Instead the force of the blast knocked her backwards onto Barn and Julie. She felt like someone had thrown a handful of pebbles at her as hard as they could. Heat washed over them in a bright flash, followed by smoke that billowed forth with sulfurous fumes. Masy gagged, it felt like salt had coated her tongue and tried to breath before rolling over. She grabbed her head, the ringing almost unbearable. She couldn't hear anything. Not as Julie grabbed at her, the goblin’s face, one of concern.

Then a faint breeze washed away the smoke and Masy looked to where Kleer had been standing. She took a ragged breath, not sure what she was looking at, at first. Then her eyes went wide at the realization. Kleer lay in pieces, his blood coating the walls above a charred floor.

Masy turned her head away. A convulsion went up from her stomach and try as she might to stop herself, she threw up. This time Julie was beside her, rubbing her back as Barn stepped to her other side, blocking her view.

They began to speak as Masy tried to calm her nerves. “She's in a bad way, Barn. I can't tell whose blood is whose and poor Kleer.” Her voice trailed off as if she was in shock.

“Don't think about that right now. Focus on Masy. Come on, let's get away from here.” He began to grab Masy’s left arm, under her shoulder. Julie grabbed her other shoulder and they began to drag her.

“I can… Walk.” Masy protested, but her feet did not listen to her.

“Masy darling, there was blood in your vomit.” Julie said.

The two goblins shared a look. Both looked far paler than average and Julie herself looked ill. They dragged Masy towards a cut out that overlooked the path. There Julie began to cut through her clothing.

“I don't feel…” Masy began, “Pain.” She said with a shaky breath.

“Masy. Listen to me.” Julie’s hands were coated in fresh blood. “Barn get over here! Apply pressure!” Barn did as expected and cursed under his breath. “Masy. You're going to be okay. I'm going to fix you.”

“Kleer…?” Masy coughed.

“We'll have to bury him later. After we tend to you. Barn! Get the fresh bandages and sutures from my bag.” Julie commanded and was obeyed.

The next few minutes were a blur as they worked upon sealing Masy up. Julie hissed at a shard of metal she extracted from the wound. “Get the poultice ready, Barn. And water. We need water.” This was done and before she knew it, something cold had been pressed into Masy's belly.

She had just been on the verge of a sleep that Julie hadn't been allowing her to have when Barn yelled out, “We have trouble!” Followed by a terribly loud sound that jolted Masy awake. It was like that explosion but not as loud. Barn came up from the lower path out of breath.

“Goblin.” He wheezed, pointing behind him. “Down the path. Hovering. Old. Has some sort of boomstick. Shot at me.”

“What do we do?” Julie asked, her voice flooded with panic.

“Go and hide.” Masy said.

“But-”

“No buts Julie.” Masy said, her eyes clear and focused. “I have a gut wound. You saw it. You've healed many things before but this is different. We both know it.” Julie began to tear up. Barn began to grab their things.

“Go up the path and hide. Barn, did he see you?”

“He must have seen something. He boomed at me.” He let out a frustrated sigh, “We should stand and fight.”

“No. No more death. Okay?” She could see them forming an argument and held up her hand. “No arguing. I’m the boss now, got it? You do as I say.” With lips curling with frustration the two begrudgingly nodded. Masy could tell it pained them beyond reason. “Okay. Now you two get out of here. Don't look back.” Masy said, pulling out a knife and hiding it beneath her hand. The stone floor was cold. Next she ripped off the bandages and Julie hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Making it look like he hit his target. Now get out of here!” She whispered with annoyance and threw the bloody bandages out of sight. She placed her hand over the stitched wound and smiled.

“You better name that child after me if it's a girl.” She said with mirth as she looked at Julie and winked. The goblin lass looked confused for a moment before her eyes went wide and she placed a hand on her abdomen. Barn, oblivious, grabbed Julie's hand and pulled her along.

“Goodbye, Masy.” He said in a shaky voice.

“Tell my family…” Masy gritted her teeth and Barn nodded. Julie looked at her one last time, the heartbreak of a friendship lost, one that could only be forged on an adventure. It broke the elven girl's heart. But there would be no more victims of terrible magicks today. She would make sure of it. For their love had brought her joy and she was dying anyway. Why not make use of it yet? She just hoped they didn't come back to save her. That foolish honor of goblin and friends.

It didn't take long before a figure aloft a long dirty rag rounded the corner. Hunched in an equally dirty cloak, it cackled as it saw her. A long stick glowing of green script was held by gnarled hands. No, not just wood but metal too, she realized. What puzzled her most was the rag it rode, somehow flat where it stood and flowing freely underneath as it moved on a phantom wind.

“What's we haz here?” It said in a tongue of goblin that was old and gnarled like his fingers. For it was an old goblin man. Under that hood, green glowing eyes looked upon her with a mix of curiosity and madness. “Gots it in the bellys we didz.” It snickered. “What is its bez?”

“Elvish.” She gritted her teeth to fake pain. She still couldn't feel her legs or her stomach. “With a bit of fox.” She smiled.

“Foxses eh?” It propped, what Masy could only imagine was the boomstick, up and leaned on it. “Yous the one tripping me triggers. Boom boom boom!” He laughed. “Heards anotha boom. Lost a frend didcha?” She couldn’t see his face but knew he was smiling with glee.

“A great goblin. Kleer was his name.” Masy said. “Never seen a thing like that explosion. He was just… bits.” her memory flashed and she grimaced. The old gob noticed and tilted his head.

“Shoulda look where he waz steppin.” he nodded, as if this was the only fact that mattered. He stopped leaning on the boomstick and hoisted it up to a holding position, aimed at her. “Canni have yas livin. No hard feelins.”

“W-Wait!” She stammered, trying to sit up but failing. The goblin lowered the boomstick slightly. “I’m dead anyway but I’m curious. Are you the old gob? The prophet that never was? Why’d ol Kleer want to find you so bad?”

“Ancient gob.” He spat. “I was killed long go, by angry silver goddess. Life brought mees back. I told other gobs, they worship me. Maxima…” he snarled at the word as if it was a stain in his mouth. “Maxima! Maxima! Maxima!” he leaned back on the boomstick again and began to use his gnarled hands to point at nothing, “Shes took them. Shes sent me away. Me! Prophet! Many gob hates her, afraids of her. They comes to find mees.” He paused and removed his hood. Masy felt herself flinch. It wasn’t just his eyes that she had thought deformed. His entire face was inscribed with swirling runes, etched into ancient leathery skin, more like bark. He was a hideous thing and the smile he gave proved it. “I founds the way. Mees! I make powder! I make boom! From batsss, from salts. No gobs can know.” There was a wild look in his eye as he began to lift the boomstick.
“How do you fly?” Masy asked, her heart beginning to beat faster.

At that question, the old gob cackled. “Silvers folly.”

Before he could point the boomstick at her, Masy threw her knife right into the goblin’s neck. He gurgled and dropped the stick. It hit the ground with a loud thud as he panicked at the knife wound. Masy only watched as he gurgled more and then he was right in front of her. She blinked, not knowing what had just occurred. The old gob put his weathered hands around her neck and began to squeeze but his strength was already waning and with her own hands she pushed him off and the rag went with him as he drowned in his own dark blood.

It was then that Masy could see what had happened. His hovering rag had not been a rag but a sword. A beautiful swirling sword that reflected the dying torchlite. A sword that had impaled her. She didn’t feel the pain at first but then it coursed into her as if her veins had caught fire. Try as she might to hold in a scream it was useless. She was being burned from the inside. Her blood seething with a rage she could not last. Then, abruptly, there was no pain and she felt so very tired. The world became fuzzy, her eyes blurring as if she was underwater. She smiled as her body began to spasm. At least those lovebirds would be safe.

---

“...And that was when we found the magic sword! Your mammy thought it was too pretty to stain with our dirty feet, so we covered it with a cloth. You should have seen the people’s faces when we flew past! Oh it was the darndest thing. Knew where to take us and everything.” Around the hearth, the small goblin children looked up at their papa with a mix of awe and wonder.

Then he was assaulted with questions.

“How fast did you go?”

“Did it scare you?”

“Where is it now?”

“Tell me more about the bats!”

“Hold on now kiddos! Hold on!” the old goblin laughed.

“Kids! What did I say about asking grandpa too many questions?” A goblin woman, curly black hair and wearing the gemstone of a sapphire on her apron walked in. She kissed the old goblin on the cheek.

“My darling Masy.” he said, taking her hand and squeezing. “Let them ask! Let them be kiddos. I don’t mind.”
She cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand as she smiled. She looked so much like her mother. “I always did love that story.” She said with knowing eyes.

“Me too, darling.” he said with a soft smile.

“Come on now kids, lunch is ready!” Masy said, “And grandma will be coming home soon!”

At that the children screamed with delight and ran off towards the kitchen, Masy in tow.

The old goblin rocked in his chair, and looked to the rune covered boomstick hanging above his hearth. He never did figure out how to use it. Then his eyes slid to the corner of the room, where a bundle wrapped in white cloth lay against the wall.

“Was it a faithful telling?” he asked aloud.

There came a muffled reply in a familiar voice, “It was good enough, Barn.”

The old goblin smiled.

Summary

A band of four adventurers, Barn the Goblin, Julie the goblin healer, Kleer the great gob warrior, and Masy, the halfblood fox elven ranger, go on an adventure to the deep underground beneath the Dominion. They share a few perilous times, a great love story and the tragedy all stories ought to have. In the end we learn that the Goblin, once brought back to life by Allianthe after Sylia’s killing, has gone quite mad and made gunpowder in the forms of traps and the boomstick, his rune gun. A most dangerous invention. How do our heroes handle this? Read and find out!

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Silverfall

---

Long did they labor in the dark of the world with only starlight to abide them. Such was the ineptitude of herself and her kin. They, who held creation in the palm of their hands. Who had fought and bled during the invasion. Who now murdered each other over little gains. She was tired of it, of them. Her peers.

This world was but darkness and even that was only to be banished by a cursed sun. For such a short time, mortalkind knew nothing but cruelty and the dark. It was not enough. Long had she waited for any one God to ascertain what she had but none had ever stepped up to the challenge. Now, many had faded into the requiem of silence. Forlorn and soon to be forgotten, if not already bent by toil.

Sylia would show those who remained what it truly meant to be divine.

With the vastness of space behind her, Sylia turned to look upon the jewel of their universe. Galbar. Oh, Galbar. The deep blue sea of the Land of Origins, with its twin trees, gazed up like a vast eye. Brilliant was the World Tree. Brighter was the Tree of Firmaments. She would show Allianthe the truest reach of the celestial heavens. Even if Life could never again be reasoned with. Even when it came to blows, which it would, sooner or later. She would show that grounded Goddess. Yet, despite it all. She wished her sister well. Did she not know that pain? As fickle as it was? She, whose heart did not know love?

“You think so little of me…” She whispered in the dark, her slender hand over where a heart would be. She pulled it away and looked at her fingers. What was love but a chemical reaction, induced in two mature beings to create healthy offspring? Not every animal felt such an allure but the mark of greater intelligence pulled so often in such a direction, that chance fell away. She shook her head, such questions had been eating at her since that fateful confrontation. Where she had not acted… Well. She shoved it away, a project for another time.

Try as she might, however, Sylia could not shake the burden of her ever growing tasks. Even weightlessness as she was in that place between places. It had seemed that Civilization had fallen before her solely. El’zadir was not fit for the task, nor could she truly count on any other. She knew not why but it was evident that something had befallen El for the very sword she had created for the reticent goddess, had vanished. Gift, she had called it. Sylia’s mercurial blade.

She would find and retrieve it in time.

Still, Sylia sighed. Perhaps she’d go and look for El too. Perhaps not. For now, it was time. She had not been to the inky black between worlds since the dawn of creation. Now she spun and gazed out at the majesty of it. One day she would travel to another world and see what creation had to offer. For now, she focused on the task at hand. The creation of a celestial body was no easy matter to undergo. She had her plan, sketched with the holiest place of her mind. None had seen it but they would.

She raised her hand and the cosmos was changed forevermore.

---

Althea sat on the roof of Ophelia’s house, knees at her chest. The air held a gentle cool breeze upon its winds. It was a reprieve from the stifling day. It was the only pleasant thing when the dark took dominion. So there she sat, having forgotten how many times she had watched the stars up above, in their myriad beauty. She knew in her heart she could watch them forever and never cease finding something new in the heavens. It calmed her mind and she even had begun to deign that it was mending what had broken inside of herself. But that was a fledgling hope she had no inkling of stoking. The stars were hers for a time and they would remain so.

The distant sounds of Sylann nightlife were her only company. That and the occasional buzz of an insect or other night denizen. From the vantage of Ophelia’s estate, for it sat upon a hill on the outskirts of the city’s center, Althea could see soft lanterns dotting every street. A new technology, one where extracted oils from animals were burned for a light source. As genius as it was, the lanterns did not stop the occasional bonfire. She had kept away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a long time, having found that a peaceful life was her calling. She told herself that it was better that way. Of course she helped around the estate and kept Ophelia and the baby company. Yet she could never shake that unwanted feeling of idleness. The pull to do anything but mope around, it was returning. A small comfort, she supposed.

“There you are.” Ophelia said. Althea turned her head to see her friend, wrapped in a blue blanket, walking towards her. She sat down beside Althea and the lilac smell of her was not unwelcome. So too was the bit of body warmth they shared. “Couldn’t sleep?” Ophelia eventually asked.

Althea looked upon a face that only had the gaze of stars. “I could sleep for days.” She confided, turning her head back up to the stars. “But if I did I would miss this.”

“True. They are lovely tonight. No clouds at all.”

“Mhmm.” Althea mumbled.

Silence fell between the two. Content as they were in each other’s presence. One did not always need to talk to pass the time.

“Oh!” Ophelia gasped as a star blinked past in a torrent of distant light. “A shooting star!”

“Make a wish.” Althea said, turning to see Ophelia’s beaming grin. She could not help but yield just a little to it, producing one of her own.

“A wish?” her friend asked.

“Well,” Althea blinked, suddenly feeling foolish. “I once overheard some kittens saying that if you saw a shooting star, you got to make a wish. It’s probably just… Children being children.”

She looked back up at the stars but felt Ophelia’s hand upon her own. She looked back at Ophelia, her fellow Syllianth now smiling softly.

“Done.” She said after a moment.

“Done?” Althea asked.

“I made my wish.” Ophelia's chin rose as a playful smugness overtook her features.

“Oh,” Althea let out a small chuckle, her own smile returning. “Well, what did you wish for?”

Ophelia opened her mouth to speak but another star streaked past and both of their heads snapped to it. Then another streaked past, and another. A meteor shower? Althea got to her feet, helping Ophelia up as more stars streaked past. They began to shoot by so quickly that it began to blur into a vast ocean of how white. Ophelia gasped at least a dozen times.

Althea could hardly believe what she was seeing. There had never been anything like this before. No one had ever mentioned it, at least. Ophelia gripped her hand tighter and she returned it with a squeeze of her own. When the streaking stars became one in all motion did the heavens at last reveal what lay beyond the curtain- An explosion of light that brightened the very skies into day.

Next followed the tremendous sound of a hammer clanging metal. It rippled across the earth and down into her very bones. Harmony came in the form of invigoration, as the sky settled back into night, not so dark as before. Althea scanned the heavens, to the very epicenter of the light and she saw now a thing that took her very breath away.

There was the goddesses’ symbol. A gigantic silvered hand. Each finger, ringed with golden circles and crowned with starlight. All coveting the great golden ball in its palm. Althea felt her knees begin to wobble and it was only Ophelia helping her down that she didn’t collapse so completely. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. She coursed with every sort of emotion, from pure elation to the smallest of inferiorities. She had bore witness to an event that would be remembered forever.

It was then that it began to rain. Not of water, she realized. It was…

“Silver?” Ophelia asked, picking up a small silver shard.

“Silver…” Althea repeated, feeling the smile tug across her lips on its own accord.

“It seems my wish came true.” Ophelia said as she scooted in close, resting her head upon Althea’s shoulder as they watched the Hand rain silver.

---

Sylia sat upon a dias of chiseled marble at the apex of the middle finger. From her viewpoint, Sylia saw everything. A bespeckled Galbar in all its glory. She had dictated that place as her most holiest of sanctums, far beyond the scope of the Atelier. Her Observatory would never be unmatched.

She could only beam with triumph. Her great work was accomplished and now mortalkind did not have to be so afraid of the dark. With the Hand now in orbit and acting as an artificial moon, Sylia could further advance all life upon the planet. It would be in the hopes that one day, perhaps generations in the future, the scope of civilization can be turned upon the distant stars.

Mortals would one day be able to live here, free from the duress of grounded life. Here they could achieve the progression of all-kind. The refinery at the center of the palm would furnish wonders. And most importantly, Sylia would not have to worry about further invasions upon Galbar’s surface and skies. She had surprises for any would be invaders but that would have to wait. She couldn’t show her hand, well, with a bemused smile, she could and she already had.

But such a place would need to be protected and mended from the inside. Toil… She would have to fix that error one day but it ever remained one of her chiefest concerns. Thus Sylia fashioned with her hammer a being much like the Formed but lesser in scope and size. More humanoid in shape and made entirely of metal. Steel. For the realities of their duties would be ceaseless. She needed something that could last and be produced somewhat easily if needed. They would have no faces, just like her Watcher of old. Then she replicated the process a hundredfold until a mass of lithe, hardy automatons stood before her.

“You are the Sylicants.” Sylia proclaimed. “Caretakers of this installation. Stalwart defenders of the Hand. This I declare, your Goddess. Now go.”

So they did and Sylia went back to her observations. There was still much to do but for once, she had earned the right to simply watch.

Summary

Sylia ruminates upon the failings of her kin and herself. She then inacts her greatest work yet. We skip to the mortal perspective of Althea, the Syllianth at Sylann and witness the Hand take shape in the orbit of Galbar. Praise by the new Moon.

MP

Sylia
8MP + 10 from the Pool

18MP

-12MP(Boosted x4 (Crafting, metal, earth, war) = 48MP) to create a Transcendental Superstructure; The Hand, Sylia’s Moon, The Crafting Moon, etc.

A great hand brought into existence by Sylia and placed within the orbit of Galbar. It now stands as the pinnacle of her achievements (so far) and with it, a new age begins. Capable of sustaining life in vast unformed cities, the Crafting Moon also acts as a hub for all things to do with crafting, forging, metalworking, etc. It is maintained currently by a new worker race of Sylia, the self named Sylicants.

-12 (crafting) - Sylia’s Foundry. At the very heart of the Hand, like a vast beating heart, lies Sylia’s domicile. It’s powered by vast solar complexes and sheer Divine Will. Here, and unlike at the Atelier, she is capable of crafting anything into existence with but little thought beyond the scope of mortal civilization.

-12 (metal) - The refineries and forges at the Palm of the hand are vast and self replicating. Capable of allowing vast constructions from swords all the way to vast ships. The magnetism at the palm can be used to gather raw resources from the stars and even from Galbar itself.

-12 (earth) - In its creation, Sylia used vast amounts of cosmic earth as its foundation and in doing so, much like the Black Wall, it was with a mind for durability. As such, the installation is almost entirely impervious to molestation by cosmic forces (meteor strikes and other debris running into it). It’s so dense it has its own gravitational pull.

-12 (war) - The great golden orb above the palm was fashioned by Sylia for one purpose- a stratagem of demise. It is simply a weapon capable of firing upon threats be they in space or upon Galbar. Why suffer any invasion when they can be annihilated outright?

-2MP to create a barely sapient species called the Sylicants. Inhabitants, caretakers, and protectors of the Hand. Made entirely of metal without gender or faces. They were designed to look after and fix any damages the Hand might incur in its long existence.

-1MP to create a Holy Site, The Observatory. At the apex of the middle finger, lies Sylia’s newest holy site. With it she is capable of seeing many, many things.

3MP remaining.

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

The Assembly

---

“We mustn't forget our neighbors to the north! We've all heard the stories! Should we allow such a place to build its strength enough to challenge us?” The goblin spoke with an eloquent tongue, wearing his fine robe of red. Jewels glittered on his fingers and about his bald head there was a floral signet in the shape of a rose.

To his decree many in that place stood, mostly other goblinfolk, and cheered but were steadily drowned out by the boos. A vast majority of those boos were of beastfolk in a multitude of assortments. Mammalian, reptilian, avian… Full, half and marked. The few Syllianth in the Forum remained ever still, giving little opinion of their own.

Another goblin, across from him, stood. His own robe white, while he sported a trimmed beard and tied black hair in a bun. Rings lined his fingers and a ring of gold pierced his nose. He spoke with the same eloquence, if not in a deeper pitch. “Stories! Tales! Gossip! These are what assemblyman Rosefield would have you believe in with absolute truth! As it remains, they are just that- rumors.” A few ayes could be heard at that. “Trade has always been steady with Thysia! The Suneater, as you all know, has shown hospitality to our people and we have to his! Such baseless claims to even suggest he could ever sack this great city, are preposterous!”

The roar of the room answered this decree. When it quieted down, Rosefield spread wide his arms and said, “Let it be known I have no doubt our city, with shining walls, could best even the ocean down south if it were to assail us in one mighty wave! We survived the hordes of demons! We have brought peace to our side of the river and so has the Noble Suneater, with his now vast holdings. We should not dismiss the rumors, even if they are just that! If Thysia is building its strength for a great campaign, why would we not be interested in this! And need I remind anyone that the Fairwater’s have always benefited from such trade between our two states?” The strike was a cunning one but to his words there came much applause and many more whispers.

Assemblyman Fairwater’s stalwart demeanor was of supreme confidence. “My good assemblyman!” he began, shushing the forum. “You all know me. You knew my father, you knew my eldest sister. Gods rest their souls! Heroes of the invasion! You know my character.” he thumped his chest. “My word has always carried weight amongst ye! I would cut off my own arm in defense of this city, there is no doubt! And I say now, we have nothing to fear from those in that country but if it will alleviate your hearts, let us put a vote to it. As we have always done and will continue to do!” Many shouted in approval, the air thick with a sense of pride.

“I am in favor of continued peace between our states, who is with me!” A chorus of aye’s flooded the room, from top to bottom. “And all those in favor of strengthening our borders?” he asked next and many gave their own aye’s but it was clear the victor.

“And peace we shall have, let it be blessed!”

Rosefield glowered and sat back in his seat. Fairwater smiled in that cocky way of his. Truly a voice of reason when you helped line the pockets of those aye’s. The goblinman tightened his fist. They would see. He and his cohorts would make them see.

Another voice broke into the fray of voices, “Now have any here remarks for Human and Feighdfulc citizenship?”

Summary

A look into the world of politics in the Assembly at Sylann.

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

ROISIN MAGNOLIA

^{The LITTLE GOD of the LITTLE THINGS | The FEIGHDFULC MATHAIR | LADY of the FADE | The KHODEXBORNDOTTR
LADYPRINCE of the FAE-FINTE | The FAERIE QUEEN | The GREAT VEILED ONE | MISTRESS of the PLACE BETWIXT ALL PLACES
HIGH QUEEN of the FAIRIES}

&

Sylia

---

Sylia found herself in the palace of the thief. She had broken her stalwart vow of never again venturing into the immaterial. All fell silent in that little gay court. She did not see its beauty, she did not see its great craftsmanship, nor even the Little god herself. The God of metal fixated upon the crown hovering above the small god. The divinium crown. Not even Allianthé’s madness had caused her to feel so… Upset. The twins, who now owed her two lifetimes, sat before the throne fussing with one another. No doubt aware of how close they had been to dying.

Sylia pointed with her sword at that little feighd queen. “You said you were born of the Khodex? What proof undeniable can you give to this claim? Or are you a thief and pretender?” The small veiled god turned her head to Sylia, and with a word of ease she caused the faeries in the court to retire and take the two accused elfwomen with them so that the gods were left alone. “I don’t know what you mean by thief, and I didn’t think there was a need to prove something self-evident. I have never lied, it is not in my character. I don’t believe there is any greater proof of anything than the known truthfulness and integrity of the speaker - but you might not agree. If you have doubts or do not wish to believe it, I am not forcing you to believe it or coercing you in any way. You are free to think what you like and I shan’t be in the slightest upset - though I only ask, if you do not wish to be friendly, that you at least mirror the respect I show you.” The Little god spoke slowly and neutrally, neither offended nor offending. As she spoke, a great seat materialised for Sylia, and juices and fruits immediately familiar and wondrous were layered out in cups and on platters of silver, gold, and many gems. They lay on several small wooden tables of fine craftsmanship interlaced with latticework of lapis lazuli and jade, and studded with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires.

The goddess flicked her Godwand, whose redwood enmeshed in Astralite and hilted with Magnolium put even the wondrous platters and tables to shame, so that Sylia’s already ornate thronely seat came to be decorated in silks, damasks, and luxurious cushions. “Forgive my inhospitality, please do make yourself comfortable and help yourself to some of these new tastes. I will be entirely open with you, there is no need for us to be standoffish. Come come, sit and be at ease. There has been too much tension for one day.”

Sylia's eyes were so transfixed upon the crown that she paid no attention to what had changed about her. In fact, it was only when the little god flicked her wand that she stopped staring at the crown to stare at that wand. She made no move to sit but lowered her blade. She raised her free hand and the magnolium component of the Godwand, after a few moments, obeyed the call of the metal god. Breaking off from the wood and Astralite, it streamed from the little queen’s grasp. Sylia studied the wand, her brow furrowing. Roisin was silent for a few moments as Sylia examined it, then she spoke. “Had you asked I would have given it to you. Now please, do sit. If I have to repeat myself I fear you will have made me seem very foolish.”

“This should not be.” Sylia whispered. “A divinium alloy… After creation?” She looked at the queen then - with some reluctance - gave back her wand with a gentle push. Her sword altered its shape until it was but a rod that hovered beside her. “Sitting will not be necessary in my case, Lady.” Sylia said with a slight bow. Her attitude whisked away in an instant. “The only foolish one here is myself. Your wand is proof enough of your designation. Khodexborn at last.” The Little god drew the Magnolium wand to her and affixed it once more to the Godwand, then placed it down on an intricately made pedestal by the High Throne. There it hovered and hummed with magicks and glamours.

Roisin Magnolia turned her head again in Sylia’s direction. “You are far from being a fool, don’t speak ill words about yourself. I am glad that your skepticism has been put to rest, though, Sylia Diviniumheart. Still, there is no need for formality. I am not enthroned upon a throne of authority, it is not mine to command and decree and, therefore, I have no right to obeisance to a like degree. Mine is an enthronement of being not of rule- but let me not annoy you with riddling words!” She rose from her throne and approached Sylia, moving gently through the air like a feather on a playful wind. “You accused me of being a thief also. I admit to being ignorant of where this accusation stems from. Could you elucidate so that, perhaps, I may offer up a defence?”

“There is no need for defense,” Sylia said, crossing her arms. “The Crown you wear was intended as a gift for the Khodex. As Khodexborn, it is yours by right. I drop all accusations and thus my apology to you is the maker's approval. Now, I am not at all familiar with you or your kind but I see plain you are with the best intentions. Allianthé’s heart is poisoned with grief and blooming with hate. It's too rash of her. Too emotional a response. I would never have put blade to her flesh, I shall have you know, but I cannot say the same of her at present. Perhaps this path was laid out long ago. Life cannot be life without death and I fear that fact alone shall lead her astray into corruption of her intent. What are we, for you have jumped into this mess, going to do about it, I wonder?” Sylia watched the small goddess hovering in silence before her.

“For my part - and you may see otherwise - I can do no more than to exhort Allianthé to goodness. I knew her before this grief, though even then she struggled. I will call on her and exhort her untiringly; there is little more I can do for her - I certainly cannot force healing or goodness into her. And perhaps if we show her mercy, kindness, generosity of spirit, patience, treat her ever with fairness and forgiveness, and in all manner exemplify that breadth of spirit and elevation we call her to… perhaps it will find a way to her heart. In all other ways we - yes, you too Sylia, I call you to it - can do nothing but ourselves be good.” Roisin settled down on the armrest of the fine throne she had conjured for Sylia. “That’s how I see it - but perhaps you, being a sister to iron and steel, see with a keener and sharper sight than I do. I welcome your say on the matter.”

“That's assuming she will want anything to do with us after this debacle. You may try all you like to open her heart once more but I cannot seeing it working at this time. Though I'd like it to.” The silver goddess sighed. “She will seek retribution that time will not dull. Her resolve will only strengthen, I have no doubt. The twins will be in constant threat of death. I would send them upon a quest to retrieve that syllianth's soul but it may already be too late. The wheel of reincarnation goes ever on. No, they have suffered and will continue to suffer. Just as Allianthé until reason is cast before her eyes or, unfortunately, beaten into her like common sense.” Roisin Magnolia issued an audible sigh at Sylia’s words, visible too as a cloud of variegated glamour. “Well, we can only do what we can - and what we see as right. I only implore you to remember: gentleness and kind forbearance is not in a thing except that it makes it more beautiful, and it is not taken out of a thing except that it is made less beautiful. I implore you towards that which is more beautiful.” She paced up and down the armrest for a few moments, deep in thought. “But I think you are right about the danger that swift follows the twins… it may be safer for both of them if they are separated.”

“Another unfortunate reality.” Sylia agreed. “United only to be separated once more. When I found them they were in a sorry state. I shall not speak of specifics only know I removed such memories from them. Such is best left to be forgotten, for they are already traumatized by their ordeals and now this. I shall take the fiery one, most to blame for this accident. She will face her own trial as punishment. I know not if she will recover without her twin but this shall be her test.” Sylia’s word caused the Little god to lift off from the armrest and rise so that she was level with Sylia’s head.

“Your words leave little doubt that you are certain of their guilt. I have received at least one narrative from a witness to the incident… but it seems to me that you may have another witness. Would you be willing to share that with me for the purpose of making a final judgment on this matter? Certainly the sooner we are able to arrive at a verdict the better it will be.”

Sylia huffed. “Allianthé would not have reacted if it had been anything lesser. Her chosen was transformed, accidently as any could see, by two quarreling sisters. Allianthé then took the life of her chosen without so much as trying to reverse the damage. They are both to blame for this tragedy but I do not think a life should be taken for a life, less two for one. Was their guilt not evident upon their faces?” No amount of looking at the veiled goddess could reveal what she thought about Sylia’s words, but her response came beauteous and calm as always, if not a little sad. “Your words mirror what I have been told. A sad affair in all ways, though who bears the greatest guilt for it I cannot yet say. I will attempt to speak to Allianthé in due course, once the agent of time has put some distance between us and the incident. I will attempt to have her accept my arbitration. But before I do any such thing I must ask you first: would you permit me to arbitrate on the matter? Will you accept my judgment when I reach it, even if it differs from what you would have liked? It will be terribly difficult to secure Allianthé’s agreement, and I will not seek to get it if I do not already have yours.”

“As you do not have a great stake in this matter, I believe you are the most natural suited for arbitration. If you wish it, then you shall have my agreement, no matter the outcome.” Sylia confirmed. Roisin nodded and soared back to her throne. Retrieving the Godwand, she whispered a word of summoning. Ida and Ayre, flanked by their faerie wardens, appeared before the throne once more.

Ida looked ahead, Ayre looked at the floor. Both dejected and unsure. Unease and guilt lingered in the air. For once, neither spoke. It seemed their ordeal had drained them of any speeches. Sylia, now before them, spoke. “You both have gone through much in such a short time. Unfortunately, it won’t be getting any easier. Your Goddess has declared you enemies of her state. Be it madness or grief that compels her, none can say. This is certain however, she will not stop hunting you until she believes retribution has been done. Life itself has chosen for you to die.” Ayre’s knees wobbled as a gasp escaped her throat and then she began to fall but invisible hands held her a loft. Ida stared forward at nothing. “I know the incident was accidental in nature. I would not have intervened otherwise. This doesn’t mean you don’t share blame in the act itself. A Syllianth- Irrithae, is dead. Thus we have decided your only course of action is to be separated until the time-”

“No!” Ayre yelled, cutting off the Goddess. “I won’t let you separate us! You can’t. It isn’t fair!”

Sylia frowned. “Fairness has little to do with it. Interrupt me again and I shall do what Allianthe could not- Cut out your tongue, little girl.”

As the threat settled over Ayre, the girl’s face contorted into rage. Steam began to rise from her body, as her features went red. Though neither Sylia nor Ayre moved, a great distance seemed to appear between them and Roisin manifested there, her flowing dress and generous wimple trailing behind her. She spoke cooling words and all about her were glamorous of utter peace. “Sá chluin mo ríomhaireacht, déithe na Khothael, agus bí síocháin.” She commanded, so that all anger and desire to lash out left Ayre. The goddess was still for a few moments and then she cocked her head. “You have something of divine make there,” she pointed to Ayre’s breast, “shew it me, dear daughter.”

Ayre blinked wildly, grasping at the necklace hidden beneath her clothes. “I…It was a gift.” she said, making no move to show it. The glamours of an understanding, patient smile flowed about Roisin. “Of course. You have drawn the gaze of many a god, Ayre…” her glamours turned to slight sadness, “but not all gods are kind or good, my dear. Let me only have a look, I’ll deny you nothing that is yours - I am no thief, I assure you.”

Sylia, near once more, watched as Ayre, with much reluctance, pulled out the necklace to reveal a large prismatic gem set. Sylia’s brows furrowed. She had felt such a presence before but where? As she tried to pinpoint it, Roisin Magnolia approached Ayre and inspected the gem. She flicked her hand, so that the Godwand shimmered across the throne room and into her grasp, and trailed the tip of her wand across the stone. “This is…” Roisin murmured thoughtfully, “quite terrible.” She withdrew her hand and fluttered away from the girl. “I would advise you, my dear, to rid yourself of that. It has great power, there is no doubt, but it will only bring your soul and form to ugliness. If you keep it, then you will one day lose all conception of yourself - though before that, you will have known much woe.” She let her words settle, and their seriousness seemed somehow reinforced by the glamours of warning that swirled about the Little god. “Do you understand me, Ayre? Let it not be said you did not know.”
Her hand began to shake around the gem. Ayre looked at Ida but it was as if she wasn’t there at all. Still she looked off into the nothingness. Ayre glanced back at the little god, her eyes beginning to narrow. Before she could say anything, Sylia interjected, “Power corrupts. Look how you are already shifting to blame her. Those eyes. Give it up Ayre.” She said, for once, in a voice like a gentle breeze. Once more Ayre’s face shifted from benign beauty to a flicker of anger. Her entire forearm was shaking now. She jerked her head and her eyes snapped shut. It was if she was battling some inner, wicked thing. Then, in one quick motion, she flung off the necklace and it clattered to the ground. Ayre took a deep breath and opened her eyes. There was a calmness about them, lucidity returned from the cusp.

The Godwand flashed so that a small maelstrom of glamour took up the necklace and brought it up before the two gods. “It is of the making of Yumash,” Roisin intonated distastefully. Her head turned towards Sylia. “I can hide it away here, but my faerie grandchildren are not all of them so wise or trustworthy,” her words did not seem to ruffle the faerie wardens hovering about Ida and Ayre, “and I fear that in time one or another will use it for some mischief.” She spoke a word of encasement, so that the necklace came to be bound in a small silver case. “I leave it to you, Sylia. Perhaps a craftsman like you might even be able to destroy it in time- but ah, do hold off on that. It may prove an important piece of evidence in this investigation,” she paused, “in fact,” she brought the case back to her, “it may be best I keep it until I have spoken with Allianthé. Surely showing her this will let her see that things are not as they seem. I will have it delivered to you immediately after for safekeeping.”

Sylia gave a wave of her hand in approval. “I trust you in this.”

The Little god flicked her wand and the silver case soared off until it came to rest on the pedestal by the High Throne. Turning to Ayre, she spoke. “How do you feel now? Better?”

The red headed girl nodded as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Yes, Goddess. Better.” Ayre looked back at Ida but her twin was much the same. She then looked at Sylia. “Separation?”

The silvered goddess gave another nod. “Until Life settles, it’s safer. I have elected to take you. It will be no easy thing, the trial ahead of you. But it must be done if you are to atone.”

The girl looked at the ground before her, nodding slow in acceptance. “I assume Ida shall stay here, in the graces of the Queen?” Sylia asked, looking at Roisin. For her part, the High Queen of the Faeries turned more fully towards Ida, as if observing the heavily scarred elf for the first time. “Yes,” Roisin cantillated, “Ida may stay here at Taramanca with me. Life has forced separation upon ye; Perhaps reunion ‘twill one day decree. I am sure that you and I will have many occasions to speak, Ida. But Ayre, as you are leaving,” she turned to the fiery twin, “I want you to remember how you cast the necklace from yourself. That took strength. It took will. And it took an understanding of what is beautiful and good. Keep that always in your mind and heart; goodness is a beautiful aspiration.” So saying, she wove glamours in her hand that formed up into a ring of silver interlaced with gold. It was studded with glimmering rubies. Incantations and words of great power were engraved into it right from the Little god’s mouth. “This is for you. Virtue and goodness is its own reward, true, but I would be truly unvirtuous if I was witness to an act of courageous willpower and did not reward it.” The ring soared towards Ayre and hung before her on a cushion of glamour.

Ayre took the ring gingerly and thanked Roisin in a small voice. She then looked at her twin again and said, “Ida… I’m so sorry.” Ida at last, looked at Ayre with frosty eyes. “So am I.” She said flatly. “Be well Ayre.” She turned and began to walk away, seemingly nowhere before the faery guards guided her out. Ayre called out after her, “Ida! I-I love you!” Her sister did not turn around.

Grief and pain flashed across Ayre’s face before Sylia crossed over to her, placing a silvered hand upon her shoulder. “She loves you even if it can’t be said. Do not worry, you will see her again. This I promise. Now come, we tarry here too long.” Sylia turned to Roisin. “And I shall see you again, little queen.” Roisin nodded to her. “I do not doubt it, dearest Sylia.” She gestured to one of Ayre’s warden fae. “Firborn will accompany you still, Ayre. With his help and blessings all the secrets of your ring will come unveiled to you.” The fire-headed Firborn settled on Ayre’s shoulder, and Sylia said at last, “Be cautious of Life.” before they were gone from the Veil in a blink.

• Summary

  Sylia and Roisin meet and after a tense moment, Sylia recognizes the legitimacy of the little queen. They go on to talk about what to do with Allianthe and eventually agree that Roisin should arbitrate and see if the Life goddess can see reason. It is then determined that the twins will have to be split up, for fear they will be hunted. Ayre objects to this and it is finally revealed what she carries- the fervor necklace. Roisin says its bad news and Ayre wills herself to rid it and she does, in return, she is gifted a cool ring. She then bids goodbye to her sister, who has been silent as ever. Ida walks out after a tense goodbye. They then depart.
• Sylia MP

  Sylia
  6MP
  
  Nothing spent
  
  6MP remaining
• Of Might & Glamour

  Roisin’s opening Might: 7 Might
  
  -2 Might to Create a Glamour Focus in the form of a ring “the Roisring; the First Ring; the Ring of Power”
  

  This ring is a powerful focus for glamour. The one who wears it is more resistant to hostile magicks of all sorts due to the protective incantations engraved into it, while the spells that are cast are generally stronger and more stable. The ring responds more positively to wielders who manifest Roisin’s virtues and beauty; a spell cast with strong positive emotions, such as courage, self-sacrifice, love etc. will tap into a deeper power than those fueled by hatred, anger, spite (though stronger in a shallow sense due to Itzal’s curse, such spells are easily dispelled and quickly lose potency as they do not tap into the ring’s deep well of beauty/virtue-rooted power).[3/4 to the Incantations domain]

  
  
  Roisin’s closing Might: 5 Might

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

The First Dragon

---

Lapis was slammed down upon the stone outcropping. Wind like a hurricane whipped at her, sending the pelting rain down upon her skin like pebbles. She groaned, pressing her wings in tight. If she didn’t, they’d be ripped off. A great hand grabbed the nape of her neck and head, tufts of her hair caught in the grip and she screamed in pain. Lapis was dragged, broken and beaten, into a place where the wind did not tread. She flung a hand at the mass of scales on her captor but it bounced off uselessly. The fight in her had died back in the village. As her father was burned alive.

She felt the lifeforce ebbing from her and knew she was leaving a long trail of blood, like a fresh coat of paint on the slick stones.

“Let me go!” she croaked.

Her captor gave no reply.

Face down, she could not see much. But she felt the burns beginning on her exposed knees, rubbing raw on the stone. The biting pain at her head. The flickering lights on her left and right. Or maybe it was one light. Her vision began to blur as exhaustion caught up like a bad hangover. Punctured by claws, broken arm, black eye, broken ribs, flight feathers plucked… Compounded by blood loss- Yeah, she had seen better days.

Her head hit the floor when the demon at last let go. She wheezed as a fresh pain blossomed in her forehead. The cool stone sent shivers down her spine and for a blissful second, she thought sleep might take her somewhere far away. Then someone said, “W-Welcome back lord. I take it your excursion was a success?” It was a male voice, nasally and Lapis knew she would hate the face that it belonged to.

That thought vanished as she heard a deep guttural bellow, like some insidious lizard. She could feel it all the way into her core as it wrapped up with a hiss. Then an impossibly deep voice, dripping with malice spoke and her heart stopped. “This meat needs tending. Put it with the others.”

“At once, lord.” The nasal man said and just like that, the demon walked off. Each footstep grew quieter and quieter until silence reigned. Sleep sought her but before she knew it, many hands had grabbed her. She tried to fight them off but it was no use. She was lifted and carried.

What happened next was a blur as Lapis fought consciousness. Whispered words fretted and cooed. She saw angelic faces with dull eyes. Liquid washed over her body and she was scrubbed bare for all to see. Then something warm covered her and Lapis at last fell asleep amidst her delirium.

---

The land of origins held many secrets. Most forgotten by the beastfolk of old. In the time of beginnings there had been the great whirlwind and the exodus towards Salvation. Gods bent the world to save those ancestors who had been so hunted by their wildblood kin. Some still existed, shunned and waiting. Some had been slain, put down like the brutes they were. Heroes had risen to put an end to the depravations. Jaxx had been once such hero but others had existed. Their tales now but long shadowed dust.

The invasion had brought back the fear of the wilds. Salvation had taken on a different meaning when once safe places became overrun. Beastfolk had died, perished in the desert or had suffered much worse fates. There had been more heroic exploits, even by those that had once profused their insatiable hunger for their lesser kin. Once the fellbeasts had been driven back to their prison and the greater beasts annihilated, the world could settle once more. Life would always go on despite the scars.

Yet not all of those beasts had been driven away. Like insects to carrion, they found their dark places and began to multiply. Ever present and waiting.

The One Who Waited, the Lord of Hate, the Dark Shadow… He was such a beast but not of the invaders. In the time of the whirlwind, he had been born with a dark flame. Did Anat’aa know? Could she fathom her gift being bastardized? Was he chosen? These questions had no answers and his flame had no purpose.

It drove that black heart to madness.

So the Dark Shadow wandered. He watched his kin die. He killed them. He watched as they were eaten. He ate them. He watched them huddle around small fires. He burned them. On and on this went as time blurred into starless recess.

When that invasion had come, the Lord of Hate did not help the defenders. He did not help the invaders. He bathed both alike in searing flame. For he had come to realize in his long nights of travels, one could make their own purpose. His, he chose, was to wait. To see. To watch. And to burn. Why should he suffer all alone? Why should any other have a purpose but he?

He set his roost within gray mountains. Away from the cradles of civilization. Away from the gods and their ilk. The invasion came to a close and the dark shadow of his wings lengthened. He became despot of nowhere and tyrant of wanderers. He grew a hoard, not of wealth but slaves. For wealth was little to him but trinkets he could not ever use. The taking of flesh and subjecting it to his will, now that was what he could do. His visage grew beastly, monstrous with each village burned and hamlet scorched. He favored those of beauty. For innocence begot such delightful features. Men, women, even children- of all races, of those who were unfortunate enough to be caught. He took them to his mountain retreat where they could not escape. He made them work, he killed them for sport, he relished in turning them against one another. Beauty could be marred. Innocence lost.

It was there that Lapis had been taken. She was no innocent thing but for the first time in his existence, he had found a halfblood with wings to rival his own. It was a slight she never even knew she had made. There could only be one Sovereign of the skies and he would suffer no rivals. So Lapis was tended and washed by those of his slaves suited for the task. She was thrown upon a cot to sleep in the place that would surely be her tomb.

And the Dragon counted another for his hoard.

Summary

We see the fate of Lapis, taken by the First Dragon. Lord of Hate. The Dark Shadow. The One Who Waited. May his rule be long and his will ever great.

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Disfigured

---

She couldn't feel anything. No sensations, no pain. She only knew she was awake because she could hear. It was her own labored breathing, a promise of a death with each rattle that settled over her like a cloud. But there was something else too… A woeful hum. Her eyes strained open and she saw the stars above. Ida couldn't remember how they got outside. They.

Twin? Where was her twin? She blinked back the mist of her mind for just a moment and saw Ayre cast in firelight not far away. She was safe but the more Ida looked, the more the picture unfolded. Ida blinked disbelieving and then a whimper escaped her throat, for her sister was not cast in fire's orange glow but she herself was the fire.

Unmoving but blinking silent screams, Ayre’s legs were black stumps and her lower torso was alight. She stared at Ida with dull eyes. Her sister was moving her lips but Ida could not understand her sister's message. The smell of burnt flesh attacked her senses, made her throat gag but nothing came up. Ida blinked again or perhaps she passed out, for when her eyes opened, Ayre’s chest was a roaring pyre and the blaze illuminated… it. The demon cast in the gloom, shape crooked and bent beneath its swirling smoke. A long bone white hand caressed her twin's face.

She wanted to scream but no words came. The demon spoke ever sweetly with that poisoned tongue, “Shhh, shhh, it will be alright, let Bael-Davaur save you from this plight. You've a mighty gift, one that can not be let to drift. Bael-Davaur was born before the stars, soon enough this new world will be ours. Your flame will help to sunder tree, and that wretched magnolia you see.” It bent closer to Ayre, her sister’s glazed eyes did not register the peril. “When Bael-Davaur was young, a cruel queen cut out his tongue. Now he speaks with a godling’s voice, and no, it was not that one’s choice.” Bael snickered with wicked glee. “You thought you could escape, but you were not quite in shape. Now you are Bael-Davaur’s little doll, one who can only crawl.” It laughed and the noise grated on Ida’s ears.

It was too much and Ida managed to whimper again. Anything to get it away from Ayre and it worked. She caught the demon's attention and that boney hand dropped as it made its way to her on a sickly wind. “She wakes at last, such frost unsurpassed.” Smoke clouded her vision and she wasn't able to see its face or any part of it. “Broken and bent, with jaw now extent.” It said. “Ice can still be mended, it must simply be tended. For Bael-Davaur has you saved, and now you shall be enslaved…!” The demon’s laugh rang hollow and Ida could not feel its hands all about her but she knew that's what it was doing. She knew and hated it.

She shut her eyes. This was a nightmare. They escaped. It wasn't real. She didn't break the earth for naught. When she opened her eyes, they would be back up at the tree with Allianthe watching over them. Father would be there and alive and and and-

She opened her eyes, witnessed the demon’s long black tongue glide over her face. A sickly smell permeated her senses and her head swam in a blur. She felt sick but could not move. She whimpered again as it spoke, “Tears so sweet, with flesh to eat. The arms are gone, plucked like a swan. Soon you'll recover… My starkissed lover.” She felt her breathing quicken. It was too much. This wasn't a nightmare. It was too terrible. Too real. She had failed utterly and now she'd be…

Ida's vision began to fade, despite her terror, despite Ayre’s burning. The hum was so lovely, lovelier than the demon's honeyed speech. She could hear it whispering sweet nothings as it touched her with its oil slick hands. Perhaps it was good she couldn’t feel the violation. Her heart began to beat like thunder, drowning out all other noise. Ayre… Her drooping eyes shot to her sister. Ida only felt a great sorrow for what she had wrought. A light came forth, brighter than all the rest. She heard muffled laughter, rising to a ringing pitch. Her heart was going to explode as that light enveloped all.

Ida's eyes shut and oblivion took her.

---

A bird’s lullaby startled Ayre awake. A morning song of a ruby swallow, her favorite thing to hear upon a warm day. She blinked, furrowing her brow as she looked out at a familiar but unfamiliar sight. Arbor and the World Tree sat looming before her. It was so colorful, all the trees and the flowers with the insects and animals alight with the new day. A chorus of comfort and relief but… She stared at the other tree, one whose trunk she could only scarcely comprehend. Was that new?

Someone yawned beside her and Ayre turned her head to see Ida waking. Her long white hair obscured her face as she leaned forward, pale blue horn dazzling in the morning light. What struck her as even stranger, was when Ida moved her hair away from her face, not with a hand of pale white did touch her skin but one of liquid silver. Ayre stared at the hand, puzzled. Was that how her hand had always been? She looked at her own and scrunched her nose at the tanned and unblemished flesh.

“What is it?” Ida asked and Ayre looked up and recoiled, eyes going wide. “What…?” Ida began, looking behind her. “What’s the matter?”

Ayre opened her mouth to speak but found no words. She lifted her arms and felt herself blinking rapidly. Her mind felt jumbled, and finding the right thought to even explain to herself what was going on was difficult. Ida reached out and grabbed Ayre’s wrist and it was then that Ida’s own eyes grew wide with shock as she stared and stared at that liquid cool hand.
And quite suddenly, it clicked with Ayre. They both spoke at the same time- Ayre exclaiming, “You’re touching me!” and Ida wailing, “What happened to my hand?”

Ida let go and got to her feet in one lithe movement. But then she stumbled backwards, looking at both her hands of silver. Quite suddenly she pulled off her gray shirt in a panic and threw it on the ground. Standing bare chested now, Ayre could clearly see that both her sister’s arms had been replaced. Where pale flesh had been, now was the formed musculature of metal. Coursing veins of soft green mimicked what once had been. Strangely, or perhaps it was intended, it looked natural despite being metallic. Ayre forced a smile, hoping to show Ida it didn’t look bad at all. Indeed, Ida’s lower half looked unscathed. That was good, right?

Instead, Ida began to hyperventilate.

Ayre pushed off from the ground and went to her side. “Ida,” She said but her sister wouldn’t look at her. “Ida!” She tried again but her twin was focused on her outstretched arms. “IDA!” Ayre shouted, touching her sister’s shoulder. This seemed to work as Ida’s face contorted with pain and she shrugged Ayre off.

“Don’t touch me!” Ida said, tears beginning to stream down her face. “W-W-What happened? Where are my arms? Where are my-” She looked at Ayre. “What else? What else has changed!” She demanded. Ayre was taken aback, she had never seen this side of Ida before.

“I… Uhmm-” She didn’t know what to say.

‘Tell me.” Ida pleaded. “Please.”

Ayre took a gulp and walked around her sister. The middle of Ida’s back, her spine, was now silver as well, rippling with intricate patterns and goosebumps, almost as if it were actual skin. Veins of the same green pulsed in scrawled beauty. She walked back in front of Ida and said, “The middle of your back and… Your jaw and chin, Ida.” It was the truth, plain as day and why she had initially recoiled. Her sister’s lower jaw and her entire chin were replaced with that metal. More veins stretched down her neck and across her shoulder to her arms and of course her back. Pulsing, beating in tune to her heart. It reminded her of…

Ida was trembling.

“Ida, oh Ida.’ Ayre gulped and took her sister’s hands within her own. They could touch at least, not that it would matter much to her sibling now. “It doesn’t look bad. The craftsmanship is div-”

Ida cut her off, “Doesn’t look bad? Doesn’t look bad! I’m even more of a freak!”

“Ida…” Ayre said, her sister beginning to squeeze her hands.

“I’ve been disfigured and you say it doesn’t look bad?” Ida fumed, the calm and collected girl vanished. She kept squeezing.

“Ida! Plea-” Ayre snapped back.

“What else do you have to say!” Ida snapped.

“My hands!” Ayre shouted, anger filling her own voice.

Ida looked down and let go. Relief washed over Ayre as she rubbed her hands together, massaging the pain.

“I’m sorry.” Ida said, falling to her knees. “I’m so sorry.” she cried. Ayre forgot her pain, reaching out a hand to pat her sister on the head but she stopped and knelt down. She took Ida’s shaking hands back within her own and squeezed.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Ayre said in a gentle voice. “You didn’t mean to. I’m not mad.” She paused, thinking carefully about what to say next. “We are going to figure this out. Hey, look at me look at me, please.” Ida slowly brought her head up and looked at her sister. Her lips trembled, her eyes were so sad. “You are not a freak. You understand? You never were and you aren’t now, okay? I-I’m so sorry this happened. I don’t even… I don’t even remember.”

“We fell.” Ida whispered, she let her head droop a little. There was no sign that she believed any of what Ayre had said.

“Yes… We fell and then…” Try as she might to think about what happened, Ayre could not. She remembered what led up to them falling… A part of her stomach dropped when she thought about how she had slain that creature. How Ida had reassured her. How she had erupted to protect her sister. She rubbed her thumbs over her Ida’s. “We’ll get through this and you know why?”

Ida did not answer.

“Because, Ida, I love you.” Ayre whispered, bringing her sister’s right hand up to her lips for a kiss. The fact she could do that was relieving in itself. “Come on,” She said, standing up and helping Ida to her feet. “We’re outside and that’s not something we should question. The tree Ida, it’s over yonder and look,” Ida’s head lifted to gaze up at the trees. “The goddess has been busy. Two trees. Just like there are two of us. That’s gotta mean something, right? Here, let me get you your shirt.” Ayre let go of Ida’s hand as her sister stared up at the trees. She found her shirt next to the tree they had been laying against. But it wasn’t the shirt that caught her eye but what else leaned against the tree.

“Ida!” she gasped and her sister swirled, “Look!”

A long staff of deep rich wood, smoothed with gleaming golden leaves and with a deep blue sapphire set at its crown, leaned next to a sheathed sword. Though the blade was hidden, it was already unlike any they had seen before. The hilt was fashioned from what looked like the same wood as the staff. It also was designed with a half crescent guard, made of silver. The pommel held a deep red ruby but the blade… Ayre cautiously picked up the deep black sheath and began to pull at the handle. With a faint ring she pulled the blade free and marveled. The blade glowed a deep burning orange. As if it were fire incarnate. It sung a sweet song in her mind, so fixated she was on it. Indeed, Ayre had never actually held a sword, had only seen them from the smiths at the Divinium Forge and the occasional traveler. Life was sacred after all and Allianthe would disapprove. Ayre quickly sheathed the sword and leaned it back against the tree. She gripped the familiar gem beneath her tunic as she took a step back.

Ida meanwhile, went and grabbed the staff. She held it in her new hands, running her left down the grain of the wood. “I can feel…” She murmured before looking at Ayre. “It isn’t going to bite you. Why don’t you take it?” she asked flatly.

Ayre gulped. “Well… You know… Swords are…”

“I know.” Ida said, her voice softer. “But we can’t leave it here. Better for you to at least carry it, for now. Just until we can put it somewhere safe.”

Seeing the logic in that, Ayre nodded, hesitantly walked forward like it was a snake coiled to strike and bent. As soon as her hands wrapped around the hilt, she felt power roll into her. That hadn’t happened before. She rolled her shoulders and unsheathed the blade once more. It wasn’t very heavy and strangely felt right in her hand. She held it high and it burst into flames. This startled Ayre and she dropped it. The blade embedded tip down into the earth at her feet and she actually heard Ida laugh. She spun to her sister, cheeks flushing red. “It s-startled me, that's all.” She stammered.

Ida leaned on her staff, the smile on her lips fading with each passing moment. Ayre captured it in her mind and she knew despite their hurts and pains- they were together and they were home. Ayre would help her sister and her sister would help her. There was nothing they wouldn’t be able to overcome.

“Come on. Let’s go home.” Ida half whispered, her eyes going distant.

Ayre smiled ever so faintly, and picked up the sword once more and sheathed it. Thankfully it didn’t catch fire.

Ida began to walk off and it dawned on Ayre then, “Ida!” She snapped.

Her pale twin spun around, “What?”

Ayre walked up to her. “Your shirt.” She said, handing it to her.

“Right.” Her sister said and the two went on.

Summary

Turns out escaping an enemy by falling down into the abyss of the world, isn’t a great idea. After some very enlightening talk by their savior, the girls wake up on the surface with no recollection of what transpired after they fell. Probably for the best. Arbor is close by, with its two trees. And we get to see upgrades, people, upgrades.

MP

Sylia
20 Starting

-3MP to ‘repair’ Ida with Sylanthite (the combined Divinium alloys of Sylium and Allianthite). Due to the nature of her injuries post fall, Ida needed two new arms, a fixed jaw and a total restructuring of her spine. To do this, Sylia (of course who else) managed to combine the two alloys. Because of this, the surgery was a complete success.

Sylanthite boasts the properties of both alloys. Made through the willpower of crafting to aid life. Able to graft upon a mortal’s flesh and function like any limb even down to the sensation of touch. Much like the Syllianth, she will also be able to change her appendages into an assortment of useful tools up to the limits of her imagination. Her vitality and endurance are also much improved, along with the natural durability that comes with Divinium alloys, Ida is stronger.

-2MP (Towards the war domain) To create an artifact, War’s Requiem. This staff, carved from the world tree’s roots and interlaced with gold leaves, was created by Sylia as a gift for Ida. Set into its crown is a large deep blue sapphire. Through the staff and from the sapphire, one can focus their innate magical abilities and unleash their powers tenfold. For War is but swift victory when one can overwhelm their opponent outright.

-1MP( +1 for Divinium alloy base) To create an artifact, The Hearth Sword. Forged from the Divinium alloy of Anat’aaium, this sword is the first artifact created from the alloy of fire. Its blade is molten fury, capable of burning bright and cutting or rather, melting through objects with ease.

SPOILER, open at your own risk

-4MP to Grant Immortality to Ayre. Befitting her nature as a phoenix, any time she dies, she is reborn in fiery fashion. The problem with such unshackled flame, is that if she burns too bright she’ll immolate, and be reborn depleted for a time.

10MP remaining

(4/4 for War domain unlock)

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

Displaced

---

Ida felt as if she was going to be sick. After she had told her fiery twin her own tale after they separated and up until they reunited, Ayre told her own story. Father was trapped in a tree. Arbor was in chaos. Ayre had visions of their mother and her Ayre… She couldn't even believe that she had immolated until she was ash only to be reborn. It wasn't difficult to grasp, it was just wrong. It didn't feel right to know she hadn't been there at that awful moment. And now, she couldn't even touch her sister without feeling like she was going to faint from heatstroke.

“It’s not as bad as it seems.” Ayre said, leaning against a wall in that alleyway. She had crossed her arms and had been looking intently at Ida. Those orange eyes, full of so much depth. And Ida knew behind those orbs, her sister’s mind was abuzz.

“I know…” Ida sighed. “It’s just… We shouldn’t have separated.”

Ayre let a huff of air out her nose, a coy smirk on Ayre’s lips at that. “There’s no telling how much us being together would have changed anything. In fact, it might have even made it worse. I wouldn’t have wanted you up there, to see all that anyways.”

Ida glanced at the necklace. “And where did you get that?” She asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”

Ayre’s hand wrapped around the prismatic jewel and she shrugged. “I’ll tell you once we’re up top.” Was her answer.

“Fair enough.” Ida said before she pushed off from the wall opposite Ayre. The ache in her leg almost made her stumble and Ayre was already in motion to catch her but she was able to right herself. Ayre took a step back.

“Tell me you tripped. Tell me you ran into something.” Ayre said, her voice shaking with anger.

Ida looked at her sister and knew what she wanted to hear. “I took a fall, yes.” She lied. Well, not entirely. She had fallen a few times but that particular hurt had come from a loose rock that had been thrown at her by one of those things.

“Liar.” Ayre snapped and began to walk off into the street.

“Hey, you wanted a lie.” Ida chided, joining her at a stiff walk. “Now let’s get out of here and back up top. I managed to get the villagers deeper into the tunnel system. There’s so many goblins down there, Ayre. It’s like they have their own underground kingdom.”

“Is that right?” Ayre asked, hands in her apron pockets. Ida had yet to tease her about her garments. Maybe soon. Maybe never.

“Yeah and they seemed well equipped to deal with any stragglers. Actually I’m surprised we haven’t seen a vanguard yet…” Ida looked back down the street. Smoke curled against the obsidian sky, the flames like a multitude of burning candle wicks. That or a bonfire. She shuddered, yes, shuddered at the heat. Manageable, but not for long.

“Let’s just get out of there.” Ayre mumbled, not looking back.

Ida winced. Ayre had, the same as she, done the unthinkable. They were killers. For her own conscience, Ida knew it had been necessary and she was willing to face whatever consequences. For Ayre…For the one who protected her her entire life… That anger had always been there, somewhere deep down but Ida doubted it was anger that had let itself kill the monster. Now Ayre had to come to terms with it herself.

“Hey.” She caught up to her sister, almost grabbing her arm but withdrew in a snap, as if she was afraid her sister would bite her. She winced again and Ayre stopped and turned to look at her. She didn’t say anything.

“Ayre. I know…” Her words fumbled in her throat. She cleared it in a mock gesture, grasping at her own emotions. “I know I’m not good with feelings. But if you want to talk about what happened, I’m here. I won’t leave you again.” It felt like the right thing to say, she told herself. And it was true. She was terrible at dealing with emotions. Her own and everyone else's. Perhaps she had earned the title of Frost, long before it had ever been uttered aloud.

For her part, Ayre gave a small nod and looked at her feet. “I should be the one saying I won’t leave you, Ida. But let’s just… Go home, okay?”

“Okay.” Ida said and they both began to walk once more. Ayre looked defeated. As if someone has snatched her fire away and a part of Ida knew that something forever more would be lost and she hated that fact. She hated it. That hatred, she knew. It was a bitter taste when she had to lie. When she had said anything else but the truth. Never to be a bother for Ayre, for their father. Ayre saw through it, the lies but not the mask of calm. Not to what was underneath. But she also knew another emotion, far better than the likes of blackened hate.

Tentatively, she reached out, and squeezed one of Ayre’s fingers. Her sister froze. Ida hissed a breath as the pain jolted up her arm. It was like a phantom burn that beat in her fingertips but it was worth it for what she said next, “I love you, Ayre.”

Ayre abruptly turned her face away, her shoulders sagged inwards and bobbed up and down silently. Droplets fell to the ground, each a small hiss on the cold stone and it would have melted Ida’s heart if it had been completely frozen. “I-” Ayre gasped a breath, “I love you too, Ida.” And then began to walk forward at a brisk pace.

They reached the outskirts of the dying town, careful to avoid staring at the blood and viscera of the attack that lay in stains across every surface. Drying and cracking. Ida knew if she dwelt on those she hadn't been able to save, she would break down. Right there, in that street of twilight. Ayre drew in as close as she could get to her and they were silent, comforted by the others' presence alone.

Ida could see the tunnel fast approaching. The memory of that thing emerging from the dark amidst screams would forever haunt her. It was almost as if the darkness was unnatural and her senses screamed to run away. Then she noticed and stopped.

“Where are the bodies?”

Something cracked from that long dark tunnel, as if in answer. Ayre moved in front of Ida and she could only stop herself from rolling her eyes at her twin, as she stood beside her. The crack sounded again and then followed by a long drawn out breath. Something dripped down and a large puddle of blood, almost unnatural in size, surged forth and coated everything in that sickly smell of rust. She felt sick to her stomach. Ayre looked deathly pale as well, tinged with green on her warm cheeks.

“The bodies of the slain,” A deep voice of whispered shadow fell around them and Ida saw Ayre tense. “Now reflect in pools of crimson stain.” Ida felt as if that voice had penetrated into the very core of her mind, wriggling about like some worm of terror. And it kept speaking in its whispered whimsy, “You are no pesky gadfly, nor even a Magnolia’s dying lullaby. Not a corse, of course. Such blood unspilled, ready to be distilled. So tell Bael-Davaur what you are?” It's voice pleaded with them and Ida almost felt compelled to answer but she put a hand over her mouth and glanced at Ayre. Her sister glanced back, steel in her eyes and mouthed one word- run.

So they did.

A howling laughter broke from behind them, echoing forth from that black tunnel. “Not a sapling and yet somehow still so lacking!” Shadows began to unfurl at the edge of Ida’s vision. “Not a beast, at least.” It’s said in her ear. Their legs took them swiftly from once they came and the thing was right behind them. Tendrils of soft shadow touched her, coaxing Ida to run faster. Its voice was a sweet lull beside her and all around them, like a slow insidious poison. “Knife-ears with such lovely fears. One of roiling flame, bent from so much self blame. The other cold, with a soul so old. Why do they run, in this place without sun? Where will they flee, under this enemy tree?” Ida looked back once, just once and saw what followed them. A mass of burgundy smoke, almost colored as dark as night in that gloom. It gobbled up the air and snuffed out all light. There was something inside that smoke, something that she knew would make her skin crawl. Not because it would be hideous or misshapen. But because she feared that it would be the opposite. And Ida knew in her bones, in her very soul, to stop would be certain death.

They reached the outskirts of the town once more, Ayre’s hair whipping bright behind her as she ran, with Ida close behind. She couldn't help but wonder where the goblins were? Where was anyone, for that matter? Something was wrong and that was clearly evident as they were being chased by a demon.

The thing that chased them… It was not like what she had sullied her hands for, before. When people needed saving. Not one of those lesser beasts but greater. Far greater and if it was capable of speech… it reaffirmed her anxiety about not wishing to see it without the smoke veiling it. It's oily voice and rasping shadows sent chills down her spine and she was one who could no longer feel the cold.

A rush of air sounded behind them, Ida glanced to see the world behind them shattering. What came next was an explosion that rippled through the air, sending stone chips and wooden splinters all around them. Ayre shouted something in the roar but Ida couldn't hear it. In the maelstrom, something hard smacked into the back of her injured knee and she tumbled forward. Her arms absorbed the blow as much as they could, but she still hit the stone hard. As a result, her vision went fuzzy and she was too stunned to move. Not even as Ayre gave a leap over her and screamed at their pursuer. And in that scream the world erupted into flame and with it, heat.

It was a marvel, both that her eyes began to focus and watching those torrents of fire emerge from her twin’s hands. The flame hit the smoke and the world alighted with a nebulous of sparks that made the demon stop in its pursuit.

The roar of the fire filled her ears and it was that heat that washed over that got her to move at last. She pushed up and got upon wobbly feet.

“Ayre!” She called but her sister did not answer. She could not see her face, did not know if her own voice could be heard in the din. Thinking quickly and wincing at her pain with each step, Ida stayed a healthy distance away from her twin and raised a hand but not at the torrent of fire. Instead she sent an ice spike at her sister’s feet and Ayre blinked. She looked at Ida in a moment of pure rage but her roaring flames began to die, until all that remained was the melting spike of ice and an inferno.

“Sweet, sweet flame, the likes of which none will tame.” That voice, that too perfect whisper cooed. “Tempered by a twin, of ice within. Ripped from a womb, never to bloom. Now Bael-Davaur, knows what you are. But blood and flesh, time has come to make for the creche. Come along now, for this is my vow; alive or dead, you will be shred, bled and… Wed. She will never thwart this new court.” The air resounded with a laugh so vile Ida and Ayre covered their ears. The blood smoke coalesced around before them and then unleashed itself. A wave of acrid smoke hit them before either could react, grabbing and clawing at Ida’s skin and clothes. She screamed. Ayre screamed. And Ida knew there would be no one to rescue them. No one but herself.

Thinking fast, Ida slammed a fist of ice into the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice! There came the sound of a crack as she and her sister were violated and she poured her power within it. Her ice ran glacier deep, splitting apart the very stone, building up pressure and pressure. She kept expanding it, coaxing it to grow and grow and grow as they were dragged ever closer to the demon of whimsy. And then, when she thought hope itself would fail, there came a sound like none other. A tremendous crack ripped the stone and earth apart like an avalanche. All at once, they were falling and she could only feel relief as the smoke did not join them.

She looked to Ayre amidst the falling, crushing debris all around them in their descent. Her sister, terrified with eyes wide, held out her hand. Ida extended her own, so close she could feel the heat of her sister’s fingertips. So close. Then the world went utterly dark.

Summary

After Ida learns of Ayre’s story since their separation, the two begin their journey back through the burned out town. Ida, realizing that Ayre is traumatized over what she did to that outer beast spawn, tells her sister she is there for her when she wants to talk. Ida herself feels fine about everything and doesn’t want to dwell on it. As a final gesture of love, she tells Ayre she loves her and briefly touches fingers with her, despite the pain. This seems to affect Ayre greatly but the two continue on.

They reach the tunnel that would lead them back to the surface but find it utterly dark and the bodies of the dwarf guards, gone. Moments later, a great pool of blood emerges from the tunnel and a lovely voice whispers forth. They have run into an outer beast princeling, Bael-Davaur, who speaks in rhythm. Scared out of their wits, the girls run and he gives chase eventually resulting in a display of power from Ayre. This doesn’t do anything and the princeling declares that he will wed the both of them, alive or dead and attacks. Ida, thinking fast, pushes her frost deep into the earth and causes a huge crack that saves them from his clutches, but also sends them down into the dark abyss.