[center][h2]The Grottu[/h2][/center] Thumfatem hummed happily in the afternoon heliopolis. The spring winds were slow and the humidity of the coast was rising, making sweat gleam off his blubbery flesh wherever his parasol couldn’t cover. He watched with beady eyes as the new labor caste of the Grottu piled stone after stone, some smashing harder stones on the softer stones to make them more edge aligned for the project. The grunted in their work and only took breaks to sip at water brought down from the nearby river that marked the boundary of their territory. Rubbing a whiskered lip, Thumfatem suddenly groaned, “Make sure the base is wide enough to support it as it grows taller.” The Laborers stopped and examined the square base stone altar they had been building. The base was already ten feet by ten and tapered three feet high to a second base of eight by eight. “How tall?” Lumpagett looked back with confusion. “Taller than me!” Thumfatem called back, “So our Father Kirron may see our sacrifices when Panganeem returns from the hunt.” He put his hands on his hips, “Quickly now, we mustn’t keep Father Kirron waiting!” The laborers quietly went back to work, some murmuring ‘yes, prophet’ but otherwise continued without much complaint. “Thumfatem,” Hoshaf piped up from his own spot besides the Prophet, a plump yet attractive Selka woman holding a reed and leaf parasol over his head. “Erm?” “Shouldn’t that be good enough?” Hoshaf began, but the prophet was quick to slap a meaty hand over his mouth. “Chieftain! Don’t say such things. You know nothing can merely be ‘good enough’ for Father Kirron, if that was so,” Thumfatem let out a chuckle and looked to the plump servant caste girl, “Then clearly he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of handpicking us as the [i]leaders[/i] of his favored tribe.” The prophet waved the girl away and leaned in close to Hoshaf. “Perhaps you are having trouble adjusting, hm?” He whispered, Hoshaf nodding eagerly, “Perhaps you even feel… guilty?” Again Hoshaf nodded. “Well, don’t.” Thumfatem’s mouth turned into a line, “You are the chosen one, and I am your guide. I think you need to better acclimatize to your new role. You do know your new role, don’t you?” Before Hoshaf could make a peep Thumfatem pulled the man in close, “You’re the chieftain,” He droned, “You’re role is to do whatever you wish, take whatever you please. It’s all in Father Kirron’s plan.” Together their eyes followed a sad looking Antorophu with a wooden bowl of water for the laborers, “Take whatever you want,” Thumfatem smiled wickedly, a small crescent forming on Hoshaf, “You are in charge.” “I am in charge,” Hoshaf slowly nodded. Suddenly a hollar came from one of those designated as a hunter. “A winged lady approaches!” Hoshaf turned in wonder, as did the majority of the laborers. In the distance a white figure brushed through the thickets. Thumfatem seemed less impressed than the others and turned to Hoshaf, “I shall greet her on behalf of the Chieftain, perhaps you can stay here and-” He thought for a moment, “Exercise your new role?” The Chieftain nodded to the larger man and Thumfatem waddled off to greet the winged stranger, bringing with him several of the hunters he walked by on the way. The walk was slower due to Thumfatem’s physique but in moments they stood before the lady. “Father Kirron’s blessing on you and this fine day,” Thumfatem gave a blubbery smile, his eyes studying the strange figure of white. She was tall, much too tall, and had one functional wing, with another loosely bound. Her face was blank and warped from what a Selka might expect to be normal, with two horn like protrusions topping her head. The lady sighed at the sight of the Selka, crossing her arms as her head remained unmoving and appeared as if she were looking past them. “Great, more of you people,” she said before she continued speaking, more to herself than anything, “Vakk seems to have put them everywhere… Wait. Father Kirron? Is that what Vakk is referring to himself around you? That’s not like him.” For a moment she seemed to lose herself in thought before she released a hiss of pain, her hand moving to grip her shoulder. Clearly it was her wing causing her pain, but she refused to look upon it. “Who are you,” she questioned through grit teeth. Thumfatem seemed to reel at how Atvav introduced herself before panting, “Vakk? No, no! Nothing by that name. This is the holy land of Grottu, blessed by Father Kirron and put in the hands of,” He tapped his chest, “Yours truly, as high priest and prophet,” He looked over his shoulder, “To advise his own chosen chieftain in the ways of Father Kirron.” The hunters all nodded approvingly, scars from their battle still fresh on their exposed flesh. “Sounds like a crock of shit,” Atmav said plainly, straightening herself and stretching her arms up. She popped her neck a little before continuing, in a rather paranoid manner, “Vakk is a being of a talk and deception. Could be under another name for all I know.” Thumfatem seemed troubled by her words and twiddled his thumbs, “No… no,” He grimaced, “You clearly have traveled far and many ways from here, because the only Lord God who owns this tribe is Father Kirron, a God of few words and many strengths. It was by his will we were tossed from the oceans as mere animals and sprouted into beings of worship. Even now we extend our ability in his name and gather the greatest of sacrifices in his honor.” The Prophet smiled, showing off his piscivorian teeth, “Would you like to hear the commandments of Father Kirron?” “Sacrifices…” Atmav repeated, turning her head away for a moment before she tentatively took a step back from the Prophet. She shook her head, casting away thoughts before she finally turned her head to look upon the Prophet. A small hint of dissatisfaction came across her face, “If it means I get to rest, them fine.” “Of course!” Thumfatem began to waddle back to the stick village, gesturing for her to follow, “The very first commandment is easy; it is to have fun. We all have fun here, we can’t get enough of it, sounds pretty great, hm?” “That one I’m familiar with,” Atmav grumbled. “Next we must work hard, revere Kirron, and show our thanks,” Thumfatem continued, “We can do this by following the commands of his chosen leaders and priests. So long as we trust in his word, we shall never be lead astray and we shall prosper.” The fat selka stopped as they entered the ring of stick huts, where the workers toiled in the center with the construction of the altar, “It was revealed to me that the best way to work and the best way to lead, is with structure; so we have divided ourselves into castes where we feel we will work best! Quite genius of our Father Kirron, hm?” He chuckled to himself, “Such a God.” Atmav gave a look of disgust at the mention of castes, looking at the ones deemed lower in the caste. Her face morphed into one of anger before she snapped at Thumfatem, “Castes are another means of oppression, slave-driver. What makes you so different from he who makes the altar or he who hunts? The system you use is one of greed.” She looked away from the fat Selka before she nearly doubled over, making stifled sounds of pain as she gripped her shoulder once more. “Hmm..?” Thumfatem looked over at the woman in pain, “No oppression, and I’m not even sure what a slave-driver is, but we are divided only in what we do for work, what we are best at.” He stopped and looked at her pained expression, “Maybe a little faith in the Lord Kirron would see your pain away.” He paused, “As prophet, I could take your pain away, but then -- perhaps,” He started to chuckle to himself, “instead I should busy myself with moving the stones?” “I’d rather die than put myself in debt to another god,” Atmav hissed, slowly returning to her normal height, standing imposingly over the others. She cast one more look around before she commented, “You are different that the Selka I had met in the north. They are far more… relaxed and easygoing.” “With so much work to do, you cannot blame us,” Thumfatem pondered for a moment, “They likely haven't heard the call to worship just yet.” He rubbed his whiskers, “All in good time, yes?” The fat seal waddled away a bit, “Did you say you were staying to rest?” “I suppose, but the talk of sacrifice makes me nervous,” Atmav admitted, looking at Thumfatem skeptically. “It is our tribute to Father Kirron, a marker to show him our budding strength” The Prophet let his wide hands rest on his belly, “Nothing to be nervous about, but excited!” Atmav let out a sigh before nodding her head, giving a singular warning in response, “Very well. Just don’t consider me for sacrifice.” “Of course not,” Thumfatem seemed almost offended, “Our celebrated hunter, Panganeem, is out collecting our sacrifice. What he brings back is surely to impress Father Kirron and bestow his further blessing upon our tribe.” “Okay, but I have my doubts that this ‘Father Kirron’ will bless you,” Atmav stated, her voice clearly stating her dissatisfaction with the situation. As such, she seemed to keep a paranoid air around her, constantly shifting her view to keep a watchful gaze upon the Selka who. Between the pain and the paranoia, it was clear that she was not exactly all together, especially with how she had spoken towards Thumfatem. “Erm,” Thumfatem folded his webbed hands over another, “You've come quite a way and endured much suffering just to continuously berate our beliefs,” He turned to her, “Do you hate us?” Atmav stopped for a moment, looking at the ground in deep thought at the question that Thumfatem had presented. “I-“ she started before turning away from the Selka with her gaze going into the air as she seemingly thought for more time. “No. I am just skeptical that your people could be so nice while an evil such as Vakk exists,” her voice was slow and hesitant, almost unwilling to share such information. She shook her head before letting out a loud sigh. “If you were born into a world through sheer pain and torture, you would question any niceties that you’d come across as well,” she continued through a saddened voice. “Alas, we were born only under the empowering might of Father Kirron and under him we live empowering lives,” Thumfarem gave a toothy smile, “There is no evil here, only faith.” “And yet when I called to the gods, offering my faith, none came,” she said before turning back to face Thumfarem before she continued, pain filling her voice, “I was thrown here with nothing. The world I knew is gone. I was brought back just to be tortured and forced debt by a being I cannot hard to see.” Atmav took a few steps towards the Selka, her voice breaking as she spoke, “Where was your god when I prayed for help? For guidance? I got nothing!” She was standing right over him at this point, her breathing stuttered and quickening, “If your god is true then where was he in my time of need?” “Silence from Father Kirron does not mean he did not hear,” Thumfatem debated, “It just means you have yet to show strength worthy of him. See now, as the Grottu prepare to do so when Panganeem returns.” “Or perhaps,” Thumfatem doubled over his words, “Perhaps your prayer was answered and guidance is being offered, hm?” “I-“ Atmav stumbled on her own words and thoughts, before nodding her head in slight agreement. “I suppose you may be right. But why would I be led here? All I have ever done is shown disdain for your kind,” she said, a saddened confusion coming over her voice. “Ah, Father Kirron is not without his mercy, it seems,” Thumfatem nodded eagerly, “Perhaps there is great use for you in the divine lands of Grottu.” He stopped walking as he approached a stick hut, “Should you stay.” Atmav stood behind him, silent for a moment before before she took a hesitant step back. “I- I don’t know,” she said before she turned away from the Selka once more. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she said, before her mind trailed elsewhere. “I-“ her breathing quickened again and her hands balled into fists, “No. If this is some sick game by Vakk, I won’t play it,” she said, looking around as she seemed to be filled with fear at the sight of other Selka who stared at her. Thumfatem seemed to recoil at her outburst, “Erm, no.. No,” he attempted to calm his guest, “This is a tribe of Father Kirron and no other. It is by our own makings under Father Kirron that I extend the invitation.” “How do I know you are not lying to me? How do I know whether or not you or your god is as great and as merciful as you say?” Atmav snapped, her old pained anger coming across her face as she took another step back. Her head moved around as if her gaze could not find whatever it was she was looking for. “I suppose,” Thumfatem seemed to ponder the question, “It's all in faith.” “Stop saying that word!” Atmav finally yelled, her anger and confusion boiling over as it was fueled by the paranoia that plagued her. Her direction of movement changed as she took two long strides towards the Selka as she leaned over him. “Say that word again and I will see how much blood I will have to spill to please your god.” “You are asking a Prophet to stop saying faith?” Thumfatem faltered for a moment as he flinched. The other Selka turned to the outburst. The massive hand of the winged one was suddenly on Thumfatem’s throat, lifting him into the air as her grip strengthened. “I told you to not say that word!” Atmav yelled. There was a sudden thump on her broken wing and then another across the side of her face. Rocks. The other Selka were grabbing stones from the builder’s pile and tossing them at her between yells of anger. The pain that shot from her wing made her release the Prophet who scurried away between gasps of air. Falling to her hands and knees as she let out a pained cry, Atmav raised her head with grit teeth as she growled at Selka. Slowly, despite the pain in her wing, she raised herself up before she caught a stone in her hand and with a roar of anger, Atmav crushed the stone. All the Selka fell silent. Those throwing hesitated. Atmav's display put a flash of fear across their faces. A dead moment passed. A mound of water bulged up from beyond the beach. A blurry grey shape breached the surface with a resounding splash, causing the beleaguered selkas in front to stumble out of its way. The head of the shape opened up with two huge black eyes as it flew onto the sand hard enough to make the ground shake beneath the feet of all at witness. A seal many times taller than the largest creature in the scene hoisted itself up on its flippers. "Yimbo...Yimbo is here!" A lone selka voiced. All the rest raised their arms in and called out in reverence. The great seal's slit nostrils flared, then it stretched out its head towards Atmav and roared a beastly, deafening roar through rows of dangerous teeth. Atmav remained undaunted, her own anger flaring as she let out bloodthirsty roar in return, readying herself to be charged at. She gazed upon it for a moment taking a singular step to the side as her undamaged wings spread themselves in a savage attempt to make herself look bigger than she really was. Yimbo licked its teeth with some consideration. It then hefted its bulk forward as selka scattered left and right. The creature lumbered forward on its belly faster than its size alluded possible. Atmav found herself in the way of a wide red maw launching to grab her. She launched herself into the air before the teeth snapped shut, using the wings she could to glide over Yimbo as it snapped just out of reach of her feet. Atmav landed behind Yimbo before she herself charged, aiming to subdue it the same way she had subdued the reptile she had fought days ago. Her form was quick, though her attack was as blind and reckless as any other savage creature could manage as she closed the distance. She felt the tailfin slam into her entire left side before she saw it. Atmav let out a roar of pain, the tailfin disturbing the fragile balance that kept her injured wing in place, only to be worsened as she landed back first in the sand. However, as she quickly got to her feet, she reached her arm and grabbed the dangling wing before ripping it free from her back. A quick peal of thunderous movements brought Yimbo's head back around to face Atmav where she landed. “Come on then!” Atmav taunted wielding the end of her wing as one would hold a spear. Yimbo was already picking up speed again. At the last pace, the monstrous guardian dipped its whiskered head low and to one side to butt her towards the ocean. The woman shoved the fragmented end of her wing into its face hard enough to halt Yimbo's momentum entirely. Yimbo barked in shock. The bone fragments slashed pink lines over its forehead as Atmav used her elbow to slam into Yimbo’s snout when the wing did not stick into its head. The impact sent a wave back across the blubber of Yimbo's entire body. Yimbo waddled back, shaking its head left and right as sheets of blood fell from its huge nostrils. When it let out another roar at Atmav, its eyes were wide enough to see the whites at the back corners, burning with its own fury. It snapped its mouth forward again. Like with the reptile, Atmav quickly moved the hands to intercept the jaws of the great beast, forcing her to drop her wing to do so. Her hands moved along the rows of teeth, breaking her skin as she forced herself to hold open the jaws of Yimbo with a strength unknown to most men. And yet, as low, wet growls bubbled up from Yimbo's throat, her arms began to shudder. Its breath stank of rot and salt. Its jaw felt like a mountain weighing her down. As she struggled, pelts of stones once again started from the angry selka, a few heavy sticks thrown in for good measure. Her arms strained to keep the maw of the beast open, her gaze looking for an escape. Suddenly, she thrust her horns up to strike at the roof of Yimbo’s mouth. Her head felt the texture of her horns scraping at raw flesh. All around her, Yimbo's scream of pain sounded as hot red blood ran down her head and back. The world wrenched up and to the side, and the beach knocked the wind out of her chest as she was thrown from the guardian's mouth. Yimbo now faced her with blood dripping from its mouth as well as its head and nostrils, but it was no mere jungle reptile. It brought its head high, dipped its entire body forward, and bent up with enough force to launch itself off the beach and into the air. Atmav felt a chill in the shadow of its midsection. With what little time she could, she got to her feet, attempting to ignore stones that only angered and bruised her more. The woman launched herself to meet Yimbo, her hands digging into the blubber of his underside. With an almighty [i]thud[/i] and a cloud of hissing sand, she was silenced. But Yimbo did not show any relief. First, his midsection arced up through no effort of his own. With great struggle and equally great strength, Atmav pushed the the massive form of Yimbo up to reveal herself. Yimbo let out a panicked roar when it realised and tried to roll away too late. Atmav let out a cry of defiance before she threw the monstrous seal into the crowd of selka. The selka screamed as the giant seal came crashing down. Bones cracked and blood spurted as a few of the builders and onlooking children were crushed under the weight. Those who had the luck to escape the blow scurried off, yelling wildly. Hoshaf hid behind the altar, only peeking out to watch the scene unfold in horror. “Is that enough blood for your god?!” Atmav yelled to the survivors, holding her arms open to invite any other challengers forward after her display of might. She breathed in and out, turning in a circle to any survivor who would be brave enough to continue watching, “I will leave! And if any of you follow, I will come back to finish what I started!” Yimbo twisted to roll off the victims under it. This time its wild eyes twinged in a horrified sadness. It put its body between the selka and Atmav protectively and shouted out at her. Once out breath, its nostrils flared and it roared out again. Atmav’s only response to Yimbo was a long gaze, before she went to retrieve her wing which had been partially buried in the sand. Her back was turned to Yimbo and the Grottu as she merely stalked away from it all. One last long, pained shout emptied from Yimbo's throat. Helpless, he turned and nuzzled at the half-buried bodies to find any survivors. A few crumbled bodies flinched to life, but it was clear the damage was done. Hoshaf left his hidey hole and walked up to the scene, a blubbery Thumfatem trailing behind, hand on a reddened throat. Other selka approached, mostly workers, who did so carefully. They committed their movements towards Yimbo and gave the great seal a sobbing thanks and pressed their palms on his thin fur with reverence. “What have you done,” Thumfatem rasped. Hoshaf recoiled. “Me?” “You’re a weak leader, and because of this our people are weak, I see that now,” Thumfatem seemed to choke on his words as he scanned the dead, “Father Kirron had sent her here to show us our weakness, to show us how wrong we are.” “No- no!” Hoshaf furrowed his brow, “That’s not what happ-” “You’re weak!” Thumfatem threw a fist to his side in a huff, “You aren’t a leader, and now look. We bury our dead again.” “I’m trying-” “Stop trying,” Thumfatem growled, “And do or we are all doomed.” “I will lead,” Hoshaf growled back, “I will be strong, I will be the strongest.” “Then do it!” Thumfatem shouted, “Because all I see is a mistake!” Hoshaf narrowed his eyes, and pointed to a scared worker caste, “You! Get the others and start collecting the bodies.” He looked at Thumfatem defiantly, “Father Kirron will hear our cries during the sacrifice, and he will see how strong I can be.” Thumfatem huffed, “For our sakes, I hope you’re right. If you’re wrong, it’s probably best you leave before anyone notices.” With little else the prophet stormed off, a vexed look on his face. Hoshaf watched Thumfatem leave and looked back down. His eyes fell on a young girl, the top of her head broken open by a red stained shard of bone. Her was was one similar to one in shock or perhaps someone drowning. Hoshad squinted, her face looked like Panganeem’s. He pointed to her and shouted at a worker, “Bury her first.” [hider=Prestige] 6 Prestige. She -1 Prestige to [b]perform a feat[/b] to hold up Yimbo and throw him into the Selka +1 from Minor Involvement in post +1 from Major involvement in post +1 from collab. 8 Prestige. [/hider] [hider=Summary] Thumfatem is orchestrating the building of an altar for Kirron when he decides to berate Hoshaf for being weak. A selka by the name of Panganeem is out hunting for the perfect sacrifice for the altar. Atmav shows up and despite his best “Walooloo” Thumfatem only brings her to the brink of conversion before she suddenly snaps and assaults him. The selka respond by pelting her with stones. She releases Thumfatem but then decides to go on a killing spree. Yimbo shows up and they have a tussle. Atmav eventually tosses a heavily bleeding Yimbo into the crowd, killing many innocent men, women and children. This breaks everyone’s heart -- except for Atmav who threatens to come back and finish the job if they follow her. She leaves. Thumfatem berates Hoshaf for being weak and blames him that they couldn't defend themselves. Hoshaf resolves that he will be strong and he will lead, while Thumfatem is starting to have doubts. Panganeem’s daughter was killed by Atmav. [/hider] [hider=thing] Like with the reptile, Atmav quickly moved the hands to intercept the jaws of the great beast, forcing her to drop her wing to do so. Her hands moved along the rows of teeth, breaking her skin as she forced herself to hold open the jaws of Yimbo with a strength unknown to most men. Fateful words in a mysterious language emerged from Yimbo's throat: "Omae wa mo shindeiru…" “N-nani!” Atmav cried in response. [/hider]