[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/b3RmLjcyLjAwMDAwMC5SbUY0Y25Wei4w/molleat.regular.png[/img][/center] Under a sky of navy blue lay a figure, splayed on black sand. Threads and tubes extended from her, from her skull and back and joints, winding across the sand in every direction. They stretched out and up and away, into infinity. They bound her to something she had never seen, and could never reach. She sat up. A thick mess of tubes dragged across the sand as she raised her head, and the woman held herself in segmented arms. She was emaciated, half-finished, a jagged skeleton with glowing cores at her joints. She touched her face for the first time, and found it cracked and blindfolded. There she lay in the desert, tenderly exploring the ragged surface of her body with her hands. At last she stood. Nausea gripped her, as if she were a bottle of insoluble fluids being shaken. Something thick filled her mouth and she coughed it out. It dribbled from her chin as she adjusted to the pose, and, slowly, began to walk. [center][hider=She stood at the border line between life and abstraction.] [img]http://img06.deviantart.net/4a3d/i/2015/149/8/e/through_dark_by_eemeling-d8v6753.jpg[/img] [/hider][/center] One step at a time, the woman made her unsteady way over the sand, unable to see where she was going, or why. When she'd walked a few metres, her foot splashed faintly into water and silt. She drew it back, uncertain. Watching silently at first as he inspected the twisted female form before him blindly step into a puddle as she attempted to find her feet, Farxus couldn't help but ponder exactly what he was witnessing. By all rights the woman before him shouldn't have existed as she did on this plane at all; Even a damaged soul could find itself starting to heal here, but the woman in front of him was... well, it was as if someone was actively [i]building[/i] a fully developed soul but had only left the process half finished, or at least was having difficulty putting it together properly. Taking a deep breath with lungs that didn't require air in the first place, Farxus stepped forward with the faintest of noises as the sand shifted under his feet or was brushed by the edges of his cloak. When he spoke his voice sounded like the slamming of a coffin lid, the ghostly wind that blew through the sealed tomb; A voice that would be the final one that a mortal would hear, but strangely enough it wasn't an unkind one. "[color=0072bc]Would you care for a hand Miss? You seem to be having trouble walking at the moment.[/color]" She choked, a little, then snapped an "I'm fine," and finally came to a complete halt. Her hand went to her mouth as if unsure of what she was doing. "I'm... I'm not fine." Her fingers pulled away with a string of fluid, turning, trying to feel what had been inside her. "I'm... I'm..." The figure twisted her head, as if to listen for the voice that greeted her. "I'm not... Where are you? Where am I?" Under normal circumstances Farxus would have been content to stay back, have a brief conversation with whomever was in front of him and then leave them to their own devices... but under the circumstances a more personal touch was required. Striding forward over the dark sand, he reached out and carefully took her bonelike claw in his own bony hand and gave it a small squeeze to let her know that she wasn't alone. She held it, counting his phalanges with her fingertips, frowning with deja vu. "[Color=0072bc]Where you are doesn't have a name, but it is the first place that those who are dead and dying arrive when they die before traveling to their final destination. However, I've found that those who have a close brush with death tend to visit this place as well, which is why you are here now. Tell me, do you know what your name is?[/color]" The figure nodded. "My name is Yolluun, of Reas'Thul," she answered firmly, then gripped Farxus's wrist as if to anchor herself, looking up and past him with covered eyes. "No! No. My name... My name is... I'm..." Releasing the demigod, she ran her fingers abruptly through the crop of tubes in her skull, and seemed to recall. "Lambda Nineteen. That's it. Lambda-19. That's who I am. That's me." Saying it aloud seemed to settle her, and Lambda-19 repeated it until she fell into quiet. "...But how can I be here?" she asked abruptly, fumbling for his hand as if afraid that he'd walked away. "I thought... The prophets told us... I'm not dead. Am I?" After it became clear what she had been looking for, he reached out to take her hand once more in order to settle her nerves once again. "[Color=0072bc]You're not dead, Lambda. As for how exactly you got here...[/color]" He trailed off a little, as he honestly had to consider that himself. "[color=0072bc]I do not know. All I know is that you are here but you're not meant to be yet. However since I appear to have you at a disadvantage, my name is Farxus. Despite the circumstances, it's a pleasure to meet you.[/color]" "Farxus. Honoured." The figure moved uncertainly, looking for a memory, then put her fist to her chest and gave a shallow bow. "I think I'm meant to be dreaming." Tilting his head a little, the demi god of undeath (and the closest thing to a death god left) gazed at the bowing figure before him with a degree of confusion as shards of memories that weren't his own came to the forefront of his mind. Despite the woman's current state of being, it was clear that she was a Pronobis, of some kind... which was strange. Because the Pronobii were meant to have been wiped out with his predecessor. "[Color=0072bc]I don't think you're the only one... to the best of my knowledge the last of the Pronobii died shortly after Reathos stupidly got himself killed fighting Vestec. How are you alive?[/color]" He asked softly; It was't a question that he had to ask anyone that often. It seemed to take Lambda-19 a while to correlate what he was saying to what she knew. "The last of the Pronobii... How am I alive. How am I alive." She looked up, and put her thumb into the band of her blindfold. "I think..." More memories, unclear and yet complete. Farxus saw the inside of an amnion veined with glowing red. Umbilica coiled around Lambda-19's limbs, caught between her fingers. Little blood-scorpions swimming in the bubble, biting and building at her cores like wasps at the hive. A tear. A flaw. A sarcoma that demanded mending. The blue darkness of deep water just outside, where absolute emptiness was being drained and filled with energy. Power harvested from the void. "I think I'm being born," said Lambda-19, lifting away the sash that covered her eyes. Crow eyes. Vivid blue pupils dotted onto a white sclera that swam with glyphs. Privately, Farxus was inclined towards the idea that she was being 'made' rather then born, but despite his lack of social interactions that lasted longer then a few minutes he had enough tact not to say so. Still... the fact that one of the gods was reviving the dead species of a departed god was a concerning one to say the least. "[color=0072bc]I see...[/color] he muttered as he tried to stall for a few moments to think. "[Color=0072bc]You seem to be receiving memories from someone called Yolluun. What exactly do you remember?[/color]" A question born as much of curiosity as it was to give him time to try and adjust to the enlightenment that he had just received. She looked up, and around, over the river she'd come so close to falling into. "Nothing. Just the name. Yolluun, Arcadia, Gehenna, Nimueh, names and names... I remember things, but none of them line up. Conversations, places, ceremonies. This is the first memory of my own." Back at Farxus. "But why are you here? The Great Prophet... She said..." Lambda-19's cracked face flew into shock. "Reathos. The Great God! The Great God is dead! Did Chaos grow so strong? What will happen to the lost souls now?" In hindsight he wasn't at all surprised by the fact that the knowledge that Reathos was gone was an overwhelming one. One that honestly should have been explained with more skill, and tact, than Farxus had really given it. It was too late now, through... He nodded his head to confirm her fears a little. "[Color=0072bc]I do not know the full story myself. I didn't come into existence until after Reathos was gone and I do not have much in the way of memories or what his thought process was like at the time. Personally I believe he made several mistakes in how he did things. Primarily his fatal decision to challenge the god of chaos to a battle to the death in the realm of madness itself. Though I will be the first to confess that it is easy to say such a thing with the benefit of hindsight.[/color]" The unborn soul stared at him, then out over the river again, and finally down at the dust, holding herself. Was it bold to claim that the being who came before you did things wrong, considering that Reathos was a proper god and he was merely a shadow of what Reathos had been? Most likely, but Reathos was gone and had left him to pick up the pieces of the mess he had left behind. "[Color=0072bc]I can, however, meet your other two questions with the same answer. The reason I am here is to take care of the lost and the damned; To try and fix this awful mess that Reathos's death has brought and offer aid to those who have been affected by it in one manner or another.[/color]" Though she didn't turn her head from the sand, Lambda-19's eyes rose back to meet his. "When the Great God was alive," she began, "He made us promise... No, we were in debt to him. Everything I see in my memories comes from Reathos. So in his name we swore to go out into the world, and strike down everything that had lived too long. For the Great God. That was going to be our crusade." Her hands clasped, and she went down on one knee. "We... No. [i]They[/i] made a solemn vow, which I inherit. Am I absolved, now that he is dead? Or shall I not rest until I see it carried through?" As he gazed down at the kneeling woman before him, Farxus blinked a little in surprise at the gesture. Without a second thought he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head as his voice almost took on a shy, bashful tone as he requested "[Color=0072bc]D-Don't kneel to me. I am no one's lord or master.[/color]" It didn't look as though she would stand without an answer, though. Allowing himself to cough awkwardly, he quickly cleared his throat as he recognized that she had asked a very important question. It was one that he actually had a simple answer to. He shook his head. "[Color=0072bc]No. It is not the duty of death to pursue the living like a damn Herakt. All things die sooner or later... even immortals like gods will die and fade away given enough time. We do not have to chase when we are already waiting at the end.[/color]" She nodded. There was a pause... before one of his hands tightened into a fist with the creaking of bone as a fire entered his voice. "[color=0072bc]However... there are those in this world that defile the natural order of things. They force the dead out of their graves, denying their souls the chance to make their final journey and rest in order to serve their own selfish whims. I will see these fiends removed from the world and...[/color]" for a moment he faltered, unsure of himself for just a moment as he looked down at the sand below them. [i]Thus saith the Prophet- Accept in thy heart the end that awaits, for only ill would lay in the return,[/i] thought Lambda-19. "[color=0072bc]If you offer to help me do that... I promise that I will never forsake you, or forget your assistance.[/color]" "This I accept, and this I swear, in place of the old oath," answered the figure, and rose. She seemed taller than before. A warrior's shadow clinging to a frame. "I'll pray to hear from you again... Farxus." Lambda's hand flexed. One of the cords at her back flicked and tightened. "I don't know when that will be, though," she admitted. "Or where I'm going." A small, almost shy little smile appeared on Farxus's features as he raised his head to gaze at Lambda, simply answering "[color=0072bc]Do not worry. I'll find you.[/color]" The Pronobis warrior nodded. Her threads were tightening, one by one, pulling her back into wherever her body was. "I..." she began, then lay a hand on Farxus's shoulder. "Thank you." Lambda-19 fell apart into flakes of snow and paper, and faded back into her coma. There was quiet. No wind to blow, no crickets to chirp. But something was stirring on the sand; cords and tubes, leading from nowhere into curled bodies that lay blindfolded on the bank of the river. They darkened, went from lines to shapes to ill-defined bodies, and then back again, like figures drawn in pencil, until there was nothing left. Little by little, the Pronobii were rising from their grave. [hider=Summary] In Farxus's desert limbo plane, a woman wakes up. She's unwell, and she appears to be tied to Galbar by some kind of life support. She's also blindfolded, her body indistinct and incomplete, with glowing balls of magic in her joints. She walks forwards until she encounters the ford that marks the passage through death, and stops. Farxus greets her, and she seems confused about her location, wellbeing, and identity. Farxus gently talks her through her situation and infers that she's a Pronobis, though he's not sure how this could be the case. She introduces herself with a name made of numbers. Looking into her most recent memory, he sees mostly darkness, and a kind of womb. It's clearly not a natural birth, despite what Lambda (the Pronobis) seems to think. He prompts her for more memories, though Lambda's seem to come from other Pronobii from long ago. Lambda finally realises that Reathos is dead and it upsets her. Farxus feels a little bad about saying it bluntly earlier, and tells her what he knows about his demise, as well as about himself and his work in the plane. He says he intends to repair the damage caused by his predecessor. Lambda asks if this means that she's still bound by her vow to wipe out Galbar's life. Farxus is repulsed by the idea. He humbly asks her assistance in fighting those that disturb the dead instead, and Lambda accepts gladly. They part ways, hoping to meet again one way or another. It doesn't look like the unusual encounter will be Farxus's last. No might spent because leveling up costs money. Collab with [@Antarctic Termite] [/hider]