Since the first winds howled over the surface of a lifeless Galbar, there has stood a long and narrowing isthmus between the lands to the south and the heart of the first waters. For many eons have the waves battered against it, and the earth shaken beneath its roots, and always it stood firm, for there was one who would will it to stand forever as a path and an open door towards her own face. Time, however, is noticeably less ruinous than certain other forces. Today, the narrow stretch of land has been warped and scorched, sunken and flooded. Its stones are curiously burst by the expansion of ice, and its sand glazed into obsidian by a roiling fire. Still more curious anomalies hang yet in the air. At night, the place seems to hum with radiation. And for all this hardship, the bridge finally collapsed, and its far end leads only to a perilously splintered reef extended neck-deep for a few miles out, and then dropping away altogether into the abyss. The abyss, however, is not empty. Enter a lone Sculptor yet unnamed, of whom wore an unusual, circular head dress upon her palor face, suspended upon a freakishly long neck. The gaze of this wandering novitiate was hard to follow, for her eyes were as milky white as her scrawny face. She made sure to hold onto her hat, which the wind had threatened to relieve her of, the weather this far into the tumulous sea was less than favorable, unpredictable, even. The Sculptor let out a huff, vexed by the sogging wet state of her wardrobe, her changed form didn't feel the least bit comfortable against the cold breath of a Galbarian storm. "O All-Beauty, where ar't thou." She remarked, before she dove into the water with a single, fluid motion. When she was rescued from the surface by the mild embrace of liquidity, an addition of arms unfurled from her person, leaving a spinal column as her torso. She used her multitude of limbs to bat deeper into the bosom of the body of water. A single, lonely eyefish, perhaps the last one left in the empty waters, thought it was at prithy to follow the visitor, who managed to keep an impressive pace on her way to the abyssal depths. [colour=9e0b0f]"[i]Here,[/i]"[/colour] sounded a voice. It held a slight reverberation, coming from two sources at once. Strange to hear the sound of a dream that has long been waiting in reality. [colour=9e0b0f]"[i]Look down. I'm deeper than I once was.[/i]"[/colour] In the dark, a wide, faint flash of carmine, like an afterimage. A tug played at the brim of the Sculptor's hat, a peculiar current leading to its source. The Sculptor followed, and discovered a cavernous archway, deeply charred, and yet textured still with geometrics that even she would find difficult - if not impossible to replicate. She grasped the otherworldly rivets and compressions within, and clambered along the surface until the Sculptor found an entrance into the body upon the ocean floor. A sickly green light cascaded down from the heavens, from the divide between surface and submerged, as if just to illuminate the twisted gap the lone Sculptor found herself swimming within. "Is this the body of thee, O All Mother?" the Sculptor asked aloud, despite the curtain of water that persisted around her. [colour=9e0b0f]"Do you think so?"[/colour] came a voice, heard in person, and with it a misty carmine luminescence from the ever-falling tunnels within. [colour=9e0b0f]"Would you be disappointed if it wasn't? Did you come seeking something strange, or did you come for me?"[/colour] "I came for thee, All Mother, I seek direction." stated the visitor. [colour=9e0b0f]"And you found me. You found me."[/colour] A soft breath, stirring the currents around her guest like a breeze. [colour=9e0b0f]"It's been so long since last I've spoken to you, child. How many decades?"[/colour] Low static, crackling then whining with weak laughter. [colour=9e0b0f]"Come, ask this toppled tower, burnt-out rubble of a thing that I am. Strange that I might be visited by you now. We're all burning here."[/colour] "Four, and I am sorry for my neglect, but just four moons ago, my hovel was annihilated by flying beasts, all of my creations were lost, but I survived. I am not so sure about my kin, however, many of them were already killed before I had any notion that we were being attacked. I require a new place, in which I can remain steadfastedly secure against the flying creatures." explained the Sculptor, only now noting the conditions of the All-Beauty's exterior. Faint buzzing, tuning sounds, as the god puzzled out a tone. Then, accelerating as if it was leaping its way out of the tunnels, a cackling laugh that cracked into distortion and returned in waves. [colour=9e0b0f]"All this way for a hut? To the depths of the ocean and the belly of a deity, to introduce yourself in humble terms, when all you want is safety? Oh, my dear inkblot, when did you get so [i]formal?[/i]"[/colour] The sound dissolved into giggles. [colour=9e0b0f]"Rest easy, sweet haberdasher child of mine. I'm... I think I'm touched."[/colour] Another exhalation, humming, and one could tell the god was thinking like a girl twiddling her hair in her fingers. [colour=9e0b0f]"Never be sorry for anything, dear,"[/colour] resumed the voice in a purr. [colour=9e0b0f]"You've turned out quite well. I know places and I know [i]places.[/i] What you've had the misfortune to see are the Realta. War constructs of a distant god. One who takes... Some... Objection... To my existence."[/colour] A faint note of savage resilience. [colour=9e0b0f]"No, you've come far, and to the right place. I'm as safe a fortress as exists, but I think I can do you one better, and one riskier. May I?"[/colour] Now the voice was teasing, copying its child's own polite tone. "Of course," replied the Jvanic follower, now grounding herself in the swirling artery. "These Realta... They were made to destroy us? Whatever made these manfowl must be truly brutish." she said, arms returning to the shape of a cylindrical torso. [colour=9e0b0f]"Brutish... That's certainly one way to put it. Experience tells me that they were defensive weapons, at one point. If they were made for the task they'd be more efficient around faeries. I digress!"[/colour] The distant glow solidified into something that hovered in the waters, revolving, with squared shapes and moving pieces. [colour=9e0b0f]"East of here, far east, there is a mountain range- the Ironhearts. At its center it is cut through by Shalanoir, a low rainforest."[/colour] [colour=9e0b0f]"And just southwest of Shalanoir there is a magnificent gathering of people and gods- A city the likes of which has no match on Galbar. It, too, has suffered under the Realta. Yet it remains. Alefpria is its name."[/colour] [colour=9e0b0f]"Among the deities that consider it a residence is its founder, Emperor, and my nibling cousin, Lifprasil-Vesamera. He has a protective heart and an eye for diversity. Sculptors are welcomed within his borders, he intends to defend the entire city- The whole of Galbar, maybe- With the force of his divine alliances. Mine among them."[/colour] "The notion lacks permanence, I would say." commented the Sculptor, but she listened still. The mirage broadened until it filled the tunnel and the Sculptor was looking down on a city, far below. [colour=9e0b0f]"If you can make it there, you'll be warmly welcomed. And if you stay, you may find something... Of interest."[/colour] A swirl of carmine fog and the illusory city vanished, became a ticking mechanism of sockets and contracting tendons, distributing weight around a set of bones as they walked. [colour=9e0b0f]"A new technology is due to spread there, in time. It is my own craft, the art of working with living, twitching material. I think, eventually, you'll learn its name yourself."[/colour] The leg disassembled and took on an earlier form, each individual piece being stretched, compressed or moulded into shape with delicate wooden frames. [colour=9e0b0f]"That is, if you go that far- Again."[/colour] "Interest...? As a shaper of flesh, I would take thee's offer, but what of this creation? I am curious," said the Sculptor, watching her patron goddess work. "And what is it that you are building, All Mother?" An excellent question, duly mulled. On a technicality, of course, it had not been her who had started the project. [colour=9e0b0f]"Riddle me this- Why did I create [i]you?[/i] Tell me, a little, why you exist, hm?"[/colour] The Sculptor thought. Curious, she never had a thought regarding existentialism within her field. "To create?" she hypothesized. "I assumed, always, that I existed because thee willed my existence, as gods do." [colour=9e0b0f]"Correct and... Somewhat correct. I made your ancestor-"[/colour] Another easy half-lie- [colour=9e0b0f]"And the rest was just guidance. Never overestimate my family and I."[/colour] [colour=9e0b0f]"But you were right. You exist to create. And this, too, this thing that is developing in Alefpria, is a means of creation. I only have one mind. Mortals have many. Diversity begets diversity- And so I choose to pass on my art to my heirs. What I've made is, simply, divine flesh, soft enough to be moulded by mortal hands. Its potential is limited only by patience and creativity."[/colour] Aware that it was improvising, the voice quickly continued. [colour=9e0b0f]"And luck. Lots of luck."[/colour] "Divine flesh..." The Sculptor thought aloud, it was as if a dream, as if she was offered something impossible. "O All Beauty, you mean to give such a gift to mortals like myself?" she asked, this sounded irresponsible, but the idea of being a creator like the living citadel before her was far too seductive. This was a gift for her own selfish gain, she concluded, and she felt a slight guilt, as the Others, those that perished in her hovel, were not here to witness this gross display of potential metamorphosis. [colour=9e0b0f]"Well, I mean, yes...?"[/colour] A wry wave of static in the voice, 'nnn-nn'. [colour=9e0b0f]"Believe me, [i]nothing[/i] you can do by deliberation could damage Galbar half as much as I have by accident. And, besides-"[/colour] Subtly intimate tones, as if sharing a private thing. [colour=9e0b0f]"Let me offer you some divine advice."[/colour] Distantly, the fizz of distortion lowered its pitch, and a new sound separated from its wavering whines. A sound like blinding moonlight, rising anew from the depths. The voice smiled, then grinned. How many children had she borne? How many had tried to hide their doubts? More than enough. [colour=9e0b0f]"No one ashamed of indulging their creative desires knows how good it feels. So with that, I say to you-"[/colour] And the carmine light in the distance was pierced by a spear of white, and a new life hurtled into being like a dark speck at its apex- [colour=9e0b0f]"[i]Never feel guilty for anything.[/i]"[/colour] The moonbeam disappeared, leaving only the tumbling, silky black creature at its apex to collide with the unfortunate Sculptor as it rose, its wings floundering in the water to slow its pace. Wings flapping above three clumsily tangled legs, and eyes that shone from a face like a skull. Cascades of mirth flooded from the tunnel. A challenge had been issued, and a petty one at that- The Sculptor was on her own. [colour=9e0b0f]"Stay in touch, haberdasher!"[/colour] And in a voice of thought, as the little mount huddled closely to the shins of its master, its turbines blazing at incautious intervals- [i][colour=9e0b0f]I'll be with you every step of the way.[/colour][/i] [hider=Summary] This post was written a while ago, so the tone might be little off, but here we go. A nameless Sculptor with a curious headdress travels across distant lands to seek out Jvan in person, having survived a Realta attack. Deep underwater, within the caverns of Jvan's scorched remains, she asks her for advice as to where to go now, in the aftermath. Jvan admits that her body is probably the safest place to be, even broken, but challenges her to go to Alefpria instead, where the Sculptor can experiment with Arksynth and meet many curious peoples. To make good on the dare, Jvan creates a smaller, slower (less divine, if you will) version of Oevadia for her student as something of a reward for finding her. [b]One free point spent on the Nameless Sculptor's flying mount.[/b] [b]Jvan 8 Might Ambient 5 Might in Ovaedis 1 Free Point 2C / 0D Level Five[/b] [/hider]