[center][img]http://i.cubeupload.com/RwiYWN.png[/img] [h2]Mesera and Furem[/h2] Mercy and Wrath [color=blue]0 Khookies Level 1[/color][/center] [hider=Summaros] - Mesera tells Furem a story. - Philosophical stuff about one and two and one and two and stuff - It's Furem's time to shine - Here comes a barbarian tribe looting and pillaging. - Furem is ruining the perfect day to go kill the leader of this tribe. - Breaks into the leader's tent with stealth - Challenges him to a hunt and leaves - 50 hunting parties, 3 people a party goes to find him - Dusk comes - Chieftain gets murdered on his hunt r i p - Cut to Lazarus - He uses 1 might to infuse a gem with essence focused on detecting fluctuating divine energies. - He has 0 might left. - He decides he needs to get some test subjects and forces some Roivaick to follow him. - They begin to set up while he goes back to create a blueprint of a measurement machine. [/hider] [color=red]Tell me a story, little Kitsune.[/color] [color=blue]Once, there was a man. He was merciful, yet wrathful. All men basked in the light of his mercy, yet all men suffered his wrath eventually; so they shunned him.[/color] [color=red]Did he kill them all?[/color] [color=blue]One day, he was given an amulet.[/color] [color=red]By whom?[/color] [color=blue]By those who knew that he would need a friend.[/color] [color=red]What did this amulet do?[/color] [color=blue]It split the man down the middle. It separated his wrath and his mercy, and though one may be shunned,[/color][color=red] they would always have a friend.[/color] [color=blue]They would always have a friend.[/color] [hr] The two were a [color=blue]single[/color] [color=red]entity[/color], yet they were not the same. One lived for the kill, and one did not. The binding feature was that they both defended the weak, the helpless. One, yet two. A paradoxical equation forced into existence. One was already spreading as a legend, the graceful masked fox, the healer. But what they had yet to see was the friend of the fox, the one trusted companion. They, together, roamed the forest; they searched, seeking out the weak and the strong. The strong was to be made humble, the weak uplifted. Such was the way of the two, the altogether one. The wrath was unwelcome, the mercy lauded and invited. What the peoples of the lands north of the steppes did not know, however, was that when they shunned one, they shunned the other. When they celebrated one, they celebrated the other. No matter what they did, it was folly. Such was the way of the fox and the wolf. But what would they shun, if they had not yet seen the one they should hate? This was to be changed soon, as Furem had located his mark. He was now the one in charge, the fox receding back into the mind as the body and mind of the wolf thrust forwards. The tribe of Vands was a grouping of barbarians mainly made up of Hain, some humans within their ranks. Their species was not important, however. Instead, the emphasis lied in their actions. They had pillaged and murdered, killing men, woman, and child alike in their path of destruction. But in this land, [color=red]you cut off the head, and the rest of the snake dies. United under a single leader, they are strong. But divided with no clear successor, they will soon fall.[/color] The day was a nice one, birds chirping happily in the trees. Not a cloud in sight, the sun shone brightly upon the light forest canopy. The waft of flowers tinted the air, the occasional buzzing of a bee audible. Everything was lovely, a perfect day interrupted only by the heavy steps of Furem. Smoke rose in the distance, a large bonfire. A large enough bonfire to keep a tribe of hundreds warm. Not that they needed to be warm, however. The area was comfortable, not too high a temperature yet not too low. Just a perfect day, soon to be tainted with the blood of whatever unfortunate Hain lead the tribe of barbarians. That was one thing the people in the region truly appreciated: direct honesty. There was no need for lies, no need for political maneuvering. All you needed was a display of naked force and a sense of honor. A sense of honor, however, was what these Hain lacked. Therefore, Furem had decided to end their rampaging early. The tribe of four hundred people was fairly average sized, unlike the petty tribes Mesera had focused on. Furem worked on a larger scale, focusing on the strong rather than the weak and petty. No matter the case, the smoke was getting closer. Furem couldn't take one a hundred and fifty warriors, so instead he skirted the edge of the camp. He spotted it quickly, the largest and most grandiose tent. Around it were wagons (North of the steppes people have wheels: Yell at me in OOC if you feel might should be spent on this) filled with whatever magnificent and glittering items they found. It was at the edge of the camp, making room in the clearing for the other shelters. This in itself presented an opportunity for Furem, and he skirted around to the back of the tent, avoiding the sentries on watch. With a couple neat slices with his brutally sharp claws, he opened up the furs and hides of the tent. Slipping inside, he quickly grabbed the attention of the chieftain, who clearly didn't regard the creature highly. The Hain angled his head slightly backward, smoothly speaking. [color=gray]"A wild creature? We kill you often. In fact, I think I can do this on my own."[/color] [color=red]"Death is coming. I know your name,"[/color] this snapped the Hain out of his contemptuous mannerisms, and he took on an almost hostile emotion. [color=gray]"You talk? And you threaten me with death? I could call my guards in here at any time and have you killed. What power do you have here?"[/color] Furem responded simply, [color=red]"I don't. But you can run, and you can hide, but eventually I will cut you down. I didn't come here bringing forgiveness or peace. So prepare your hunting parties, and let us begin the hunt. Search the shadows for me."[/color] The Hain narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth. As Furem exited the tent, the Chieftain said one last parting word to him, [color=gray]"Gladly."[/color] With that, as the wolf merged silently back into the forest, the Hain exited his tent and began organizing his warriors. The hunt would be on soon enough, and soon enough did it come. There were fifty hunting parties, each with three Hain in it. The tribe's human warriors were also spread out here and there in the ranks of the largely Hain tribe. They began to scour the forest for the wolf, rampaging through the underbrush. After all, what they were looking for wasn't small, therefore there was no need for stealth, right? If they spotted it, it was done for. They could yell for other hunting parties and box the damned thing in. The Chieftain himself decided to lead a hunting party, leading it throughout the forest. He would prove the wolf that he would not be the one meeting death. For hours they hunted, following tracks that lead to nothing, catching tufts of fur that had been left far too long ago for them to act one. The wolf was elusive prey, but in the end, all prey had to be found. Whether or not that prey would win against its predator was a different matter, however. The day was beginning to wean, shadows starting to claim the forest. They had one shot at this, and they had to find the wolf and kill it before it could escape. That is when the wolf found the Chieftain's hunting party. Furem deliberately cracked a stick under his paw, catching the attention of the hunting party. [color=gray]"I've hunted you down, and I'm here to kill the beast!"[/color] the Hain called tauntingly, taking up his spear and throwing it into the undergrowth. It did not meet anything, and the two other members of the part folded out in front of him, spears outheld. That is when Furem charged, flying out of the undergrowth, spear in hand. It had missed him, yes, but it landed close enough for him to grab. The spear was thrown once again, this time meeting its target. One of the hunters fell, the spear in their eye. As Furem began the dance of the hunt with the remaining spearman, the Chieftain drew the spear back out of his tribesman's head. The spear of the other tribe member was grabbed, and as quickly as the grab came, the tribesman was dead. A claw had met him in the face, leaving deep gouges. The Chieftain charged spear outheld. Furem dived, flying over the spear unexpectedly. One tackle later, the Chieftain was pinned without a spear. He spat out, [color=gray]"Barmherzigkeit won't stand for this! You'll fall! Barmherzigkeit will kill you!"[/color] Furem paused for a moment, asking, [color=red]"So he would always have a friend?"[/color] [color=blue]"So he would always have a friend."[/color] The Chieftain was no more. The legend of Zorn, the wolf of wrath, would soon spread just the same as the fox of mercy. [hr] [center][img]http://i.cubeupload.com/0UZWYj.png[/img] [h2][b]The Demigod of Secrets[/b][/h2] [color=blue]Level: 1 Might: 1 [/color][/center] Lazarus looked irritatingly at the gem. With no god essences, he could not attempt any artificial infusions. So instead, it was time for him to focus on detecting the energy. How to measure it? This was the main question of the day. He focused all of his energy into detecting the natural weft and weave of fluctuating energy, pouring divine energy into it. For to measure it, one must know it. Once he knew it, then he could begin drafting the blueprints for a machine. Of course, getting it built was another issue entirely. He could no longer make inquiries from the temple of crafting, but the freedom the valley gave him was more than enough to make up for it. While the finest of fluctuations were lost on him, it was definitely a start. He took another gem and infused it with the focused essence. It would serve as the heart of the machine, and it would help him set up the baseline of divine energy so that he may create a measurement system for the divine. Once you standardized it, you could artificialize it. That was the goal, and the goal was definitely within his grasp. He could see a few gods benefiting from it, which was a good reason for him to keep it a secret. That which is rare is valuable, and that which is valuable you do not disrespect. He would decide when and where what the gods knew of the divine energy, and how exactly he would be able to tell would be his secret. The blueprints could possibly be gleaned for information, yes, but the finer workings would be lost on the one who did not already know its purpose and understood the energies of the divine such as he did. He would draft the blueprint soon enough, but first, he needed to check on his fruit. He exited the cave, entering the warm sun. It would've been almost blinding compared to the cave if he had eyes. Making his way through the quickly forming footpath down to his plants, he inspected each and every tree. They were growing well, thankfully. He would need test subjects, however, and perhaps the goblins Vestec spoke of would be a good idea. He began his trek into the mountains. Easily enough he came across a small grouping of them, and he decided a show of shock and awe would get them to follow him into the valley. Entering the middle of the grouping with surprising speed, he spoke loudly and clearly, [color=red]"I have a place for you. One that is fertile, and one where I will protect you. So I will give you two choices, bask in the prosperity of my blessings, or be killed here and now."[/color] The choice was obvious. Soon, he had a troupe of Roivaick following him, being lead to the valley. Once they arrived, he directed them to a particularly fertile spot and told them to set up camp. And with that done, he returned to his cave. There were things to draft, blueprints to create, gods to seek out. So many things to do. So little time to do them.