[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/355504629527871488/606601704183693315/orbsmall.png[/img][/center]


“Orb wake up!” Tiben shouted. 

The dark haired Nebulite stood over the sleeping form of Orb, their cloak bundled around them like a cocoon, revealing for the first time how lithe Orb’s figure really was. This didn’t even register in Tiben’s mind, his face a wash with anxiety and fury, a bloody animal tied behind him. He frowned at the sleeping figure and raised his foot, jostling Orb with a shaking kick.

“HUH?” Orb rocketed awake, eyes twinkling behind their mask, vision darting too and fro.

“They left without us!” Tiben shouted.

“Context!” Orb hissed back, holding their still waking head. 

“Shengshi, the others, [i]Polyastera[/i]” Tiben paused, “Laurien.” The last name was said with a grain of disappointment.

Orb sat up and leaned back on their hands, “No... They couldn’t.”

“Oh they can, and they did,” Tiben threw his hands up and started pacing, “The bastards left a number of us behind.” He punched a nearby tree, a loud crack and a spattering of white blood smudging over his knuckles. Orb flinched, they had seen Tiben angry plenty of times, and each time was never any less scary. He was a nice man with a thoughtful mind and a caring heart -- but that temper. 

Quietly rising to their feet, Orb shuffled, “What about the others, our supporters?”

“Some left,” Tiben breathed through his nostrils and rubbed his bleeding hand, “Some stayed, waiting for me to return from the woods. I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

“We needed food-”

“I know we needed food,” Tiben snapped and rubbed his temples, “But this is not good.”

“Well, can we catch up?” Orb suggested. Tiben just gave them a silent look and Orb shrugged, “What if we leave too.”

“What do you mean?”

“We take our supporters, your son, and we go-”

“My son isn’t coming,” Tiben interrupted angrily, his voice seeping with venom, “The depraved bitch stole him onto the ship.”

“Well okay,” Orb tried to remain calm, “Just our supporters then, we leave the islands for good. Find a new land, build great structures, live how we want to live, away from all the politics.”

“Maybe,” Tiben surrendered, “But how in the world do you propose we do that?”

Orb pinched the bottom of their mask, “I can think of something... just give me some time.”

Tiben sucked in a large breath, his fury slowly subsiding, “I’ll gather the others, just be ready by tonight-- can you do that?”

“Seven times over,” Orb rasped proudly, inciting a weak grin from Tiben.

“Well at least our cause didn’t lose you.”


[hr]

The loyal nebulites crowded around the shore of the island. Orb’s old paddleboat served as the centerpiece, with the cloaked figure standing atop it next to Tiben. The ring of followers were a wash of murmurs and worried whispers. The sky was purple above, just dimming enough for the green swirls of Moksha to appear next to the stars. 

Orb seemed transfixed on the new sight, a hidden smile plastered behind their mask. But on the breezy sands of the beach, they were alone in their admiration, with the others sick with worry. As the whispers turned to hushed voices and rambles, Tiben finally raised a hand.

“We are all that’s left of our group,” He announced, eyes falling on the one hundredor so Nebulites. Slanting into his cheek he sighed, “We missed our opportunity, and I only hope those who didn’t are still nursing the ideas that we held dear in the face of Polyastera’s claim to rule.” He held out a fist, “She is unjust, she is self serving, she is cruel. The Nebulites were born with the intelligence to spot these flaws but clearly a select few of us were dropped a few times to lose the sense to go against the holder of these flaws, but not you all. You stayed true to your birth, your wisdom, and to the greater good.”

There were some sharp agreements, and a few curses thrown out at the mention of Polyastera. Tiben sucked in a breath, “Our way of life can never go back to how it was at the very start, you all know this, which is why you are here. Polyastera has left, but she will return and bring whatever machinations she had been blessed back with her and even if she doesn’t, she has set a precedent that will echo through time. We have no choice but to abandon this land and strive to build a better civilization elsewhere, one that can stand up to whatever her and her bastard sucklings manage to curse this world with, and one that can someday return in full and claim the life that is now lost to us. She has no right, and should she ever rear her ugly head to push her false rule, we will be ready to cut it down.”

There were some confused mutterings but also some baritone cheers and Tiben held up a hand, “But we are not without guidance in this new quest.” He waved a hand to Orb, “The Queen of flies was too blinded by their own greed to notice a great friend and ally standing under our tree. This is Orb, first and last of their kind, the thinker of the Eye. They have agreed to help us build our new life.”

Orb waved a hand, eyes twinkling, “I’m very excited.” Their rasp was swelled with a joy that not many others shared in the moment, but they nodded and thanked them with genuine appreciation. 

“And where are we building this new life?” A voice called out.

“The continent to the north,” Orb answered quickly, “It is the closest.”

“How will we get there?”

Orb shuffled slightly, “I have configured two possible solutions to that problem. First we could spend the time and resources to build the appropriate amount of vessels to transport us there.” Orb tapped their mask, “Secondly, we could try and contact a god in a similar fashion to how the others contacted Shengshi. If there is a god of the hunt, a god of these isles, and a god of rivers, there is likely to be a god that shares our ideology or at least can provide the appropriate source of aid to our cause.”

“Which ideologies shall we project?” Another voice called out.

“Freedom, to choose our destiny,” Tiben answered, “Strength, to power through any trouble to come, and might, to ensure that no one can ever take what we build from us.”

He looked up to the sky, his eyes almost lost as they fell on Moksha, “So I pray on behalf of my people, for a God of might, a God who knows conflict -- a God to see our civilization rise among the dregs of whatever the Bastard Queen plagues this world with -- and should we need it, a God who will give us the vigor to take back our lost people and keep us safe from vipers who would see themselves above all others.” 

There was silence. Then, a low, droning hum rose over the gathering's heads. At first, it did not seem to come from any one spot, but as it grew in intensity, it became clear that it spread from Tiben's person. It resounded stronger and stronger, filling the air with stifling vibrations that lightly shook the nebulite's body. A breath of torrid heat rolled over the shore, followed by the smell of blood and metal. And, all of a sudden, a voice like the rumble of an earthquake pierced the tremors.

[color=#CD2626][b]”Pray and you will receive. Light a pyre of death, and my heralds will come to you. They bear what you wish on grey wings. This is my word.”[/b][/color]

The voice fell still, and the tremors in the air were gone. Minutes passed in silence, the group in a heart thumping stupor. The first to break was Orb who roughly jabbed a finger into Tiben’s rib, forcing him out of his awe-stricken trance. “We need flammable material and a heating source.”

“Right...” Tiben blinked, “Gather driftwood,” He commanded to the others before looking at Orb, “Can you get us fire?”

Orb nodded with vigor, “Easily.”

[hr]	

A large bonfire was light on the beach, the tendrils of range flame licking to the night sky above and illuminating the brooding masses. A certain level of solidarity seemed to bind the nebulites in a communal anger, as if the words of their new patron carried just a hint of tinder for the raging fire in Tiben’s heart, spreading it among the loyal. Orb didn’t feel it, but they could definitely tell the others did. Insults were whispered about the nebulites who had left them behind, threats were made, vows cast into the fire.

“They won’t get away with this,” A bulky nebulite swore to Tiben and the fire, “If their hubris doesn’t cut their throats...” 

Tiben put a hand on the man’s shoulder, as if stealing the rest of his sentence and surrendering it to silence, “Should we meet them again, there will be a clash -- but we will be ready..” Was all he said, his voice an eerie calm. 

The night around them was silent. For a long time, the rustling of the waves and whispered howls of the wind were the only sounds to answer their voices from the darkness. The distant lights in the sky come and went behind the drift of thin clouds.

One of them was moving.

Large dark shapes swept over the Garden and Moksha overhead. The crack of leathery wings swooped down from above, arced over the nebulites' heads and landed on the sand far from the fire in a series of soft thuds. The unnatural light had followed it, growing to an orb of pale spectral luminescence. It bobbed some feet above the ground like a ghost, and the dim contours of grotesque shapes emerged as hints in its halo.

"Pyre of death," an innebulite voice drawled from the shadows, a hoarse, primal mockery of speech, "we searched, we smelled. The pyre."

"Long lost in darkness," another rejoindered, just as broken and monstrous, "We could not find. We smelled the anger, but there is no death."

"You did not listen," a third gnashed, "The pyre of death. This fire is bare. You did not give sacrifice!"

"Sacrifice," an entire chorus moaned, "Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Give sacrifice!"

The crowd stood in silent horror, with even Tiben at a loss for words -- gasping like a fish. Orb, however, seemed to be analyzing silently, their twinkling eyes darting at every nebulite and then into the darkness.

“Parameters,” Orb finally piped up, all eyes falling on the cloaked figure, “The initial instructions were unclear, what parameters do you require for sacrifice?”

"Something that lives must die," the darkness growled, "In the pyre, that is the way."

Orb slowly nodded, “Parameter accepted.”

Tiben narrowed his eyes and was about to object when suddenly Orb picked up a big ocean smoothed rock. Orb had no trouble lifting it, the weight pushing their feet into the wet sand below. Everyone looked at Orb with a certain confusion, only slowly understanding when Orb let the rock fall back down.

The stone made a loud thud, forcing frightened squirts of water to jet out of previously unseen holes. With a happy rasp, Orb dove at the first one and shoved their hand through the sand. With a yank, they tugged out a mollusk and casually tossed it into the fire. It took a second, but the roar of the fire was soon overtaken by a slow sizzle and the pop of the shell. A few stomachs rumbled at the smell.

Orb turned away from the fire, facing the endless night once more, “Parameter completed.”

"Small!" the voices howled, "Poor meat, poor life!" Yet they fell quiet, and one spoke. "But you have given. We can see you."

The ghostly light bobbed and advanced, and with it a pack of living shapes crept into the fire's light. They were horrid things unlike any the nebulites had seen before, crawling on six legs or pulling themselves ahead with enormous clawed batlike wings. Flickers from the pyre danced over coarse hides covered in swollen malformations, over blunt heads with too many eyes, and glinted off iron plates and spikes lodged into living skin.

Amid them walked a robed figure, the only one standing upright. Its hands were metal and wood, and its head a blank lantern.

"You called, we were sent and we came," one of the creatures rasped from an unseen mouth, "What is your wish?"

“We wish to leave,” Tiben finally found his voice, the commanding nature of its grain falling back into place, “To be placed on the continent north from here.”

The creatures exchanged looks, then one of them, still largely hidden in the shadows, handed a sack made of skin to those at the fore. A six-armed beast took it and pulled out something that looked like a metallic model of a ribcage, with recurve iron bars ending in inward-turned spikes.

"It is granted," the being said, and tossed the object to the ground at Tiben's feet, "Any who wears this in the skin and eats the flesh of kindred will have the blood of divinity. Spill it in the water. The iron fish will come and take you where you lead."

It fell silent, and one of the winged monsters took up the word. "You have the wish of strength. You can speak one of dominion. We listen."

Tiben hefted the iron ribcage up, his arms flexing under the weight.

“Can you elaborate on the instructions?” A confused Orb rasped.

The six-limbed creature rose on its hindmost pair of legs. "Take it around your body. Let its teeth dig into you. Eat the meat of those that are like you. Your blood will be divine." As it spoke, it mimicked placing the contraption around its chest and pushing the spikes into its body. When it was finished, it snapped the mouth on the underside of its head and fell back on all sixes.

"We listen," the winged one repeated.

Tiben closed his eyes, his nose scrunching up with what could have been disgust, he cocked his head, “You wish for me to eat one of the few people we have remaining?” The iron mess dropped with a thud onto the beach as Tiben opened his eyes, “Was there at some point in this interaction where you figured me to be a mookish buffoon? I haven’t been entrusted to this exodus because of my habit to consume my fellow at the first beast to suggest it.” He pointed a finger, “I prayed to a God of might, not to a God of sinister jokes.” 

The horrid cortege rumbled. Some of the creatures rose on their crooked legs, spreading and flapping their wings, whipping up clouds of sand. The rest crept back into the darkness along with the tall lantern-headed wight.

"Weak," they clamoured, "You cannot grasp might! You do not earn it!" "You did not listen! You gave poor sacrifice!" "You fear the strength of blood!" "You cannot take what must be done!"

"You prayed in vain! You called us for nothing!" The winged monsters crouched, splaying out ahead, "You pay!"

In a flurry of leathery beats, they were on Tiben, claws and teeth falling and closing. A blink later, they were rising into the night, blotting out Moksha until they were gone. Further away, the lone light of the lantern drifted up behind them. The crowd burst into horrified screams and wails, with Orb completely frozen in fear.

A fraction of a second ticked by in complete horror before Orb found their adrenaline and rushed to Tiben’s mangled body. He was a sputter of wet, gasping breaths and leaking blood. Orb peered down at him through their mask, eyes frozen on the rage that burned behind Tiben’s mutilated face.

“C-” He coughed, “Cowards...” His eyes widened and then closed, his chest falling. Orb hesitated a moment, but then placed a shaking hand on the side of his face, black gore rolling through their fingers. Gliding the hand down, they placed it over Tiben’s heart, a weak pulse pushing back against their hand.

“This is my fault,” Orb whimpered a rasp.

“No...” The negative was a soft whisper, barely pushing through Tiben’s shredded lips. Orb seemed to shake, the crowd around them still in a state of panic, with most having run off in fear. Slowly a twinkling drop found its way out of Orb’s mask, landing on the body below.

“I can fix you,” Orb shook, “I’ll make you better.” 

Tiben didn’t respond, his hand weakly falling on top of Orb’s, fingers limp. Orb shivered, slipping their hand free and placing it over a gushing wound. Tiben’s closest friends lingered by the kneeling Orb, doing their best to stem the other wounds with palm leaves and even sand -- but Orb just sat there frozen, their hand covering a deep gash, Tiben’s heartbeat pulsing through their fingers. 

An hour ticked by before Tiben’s heart finally stopped, two hours ticked by before Orb was finally moved by another nebulite, a gentle shake forcing them off of Tiben’s lifeless body. Orb refused in silence at first, but was eventually coerced to stand up, their cloak drenched in blood, their only friend a shredded mess. 

Orb’s knees weakened and tears dropped out from under the mask. A hand comforted their shoulder, a voice simply telling Orb that ‘Tiben did the right thing,’ and that ‘His efforts will be remembered.’ Orb shook the hand off without a word and slowly began to wander off, stopping for an instant, the iron cage slumped in the sand before them. With a heave, Orb picked it up and continued their walk forward. 

[hr]

Days went by without talking. Orb would slowly forget what their own voice sounded like throughout each day, curing it with random mutterings and monologues. The iron cage was always by their side while they worked in solitude. The other nebulites seemed to have forgotten them quickly, the shock of Tiben’s death enough to scatter the once praised plan. The exodus was as dead as Tiben, but even still, Orb didn’t want to stay, they couldn’t.

It didn’t feel right anymore, it never did, but now it really didn’t. Their godly benefactor had abandoned the settlement to Laurien, who then abandoned the settlement themselves. Tiben was their one and only friend, the only one who showed care or interest in their well being, and now he was cold and dead -- because of Orb’s own plan.

They looked down at the iron cage, divine demands of cannibalism wasn’t a factor that Orb had considered, and it cost their friend their life. A seed of hate curled and fought a nauseous depression in their stomach, watered by guilt. Sometimes Orb would find themselves crying without warning, even as they worked.

Their new project was simple enough. They had collected their paddle raft and began modifying it for longterm oceanic travel. They widened the base, formed a hull of sorts, and increased the paddle leverage and deepened the rudder. They managed to fit enough rations and water to survive the straight cross to Kalgrun and even managed to calculate the additional weight of the iron cage.

Keeping the cage almost felt like an ironic justice. To activate it you needed to eat the meat of another one of yourself, but Orb was the one and only -- the cage was useless to them. Orb sucked in a shaking breath, all this thinking poking tears back into their eyes.

[hr]

More days flew by, and by the start of the third week, Orb was ready. The sea was calm, like the surface of their heart. Orb just hoped it wasn’t as stormy on the inside. With little fanfare, and no one to see them off, Orb set out for Kalgrun.




 [Hider=summary]

Orb and Tiben realize they were left behind with a number of their supporters. Tiben’s ex-lover had stolen his son onto Shengshi’s ship. The pair decide that they and their supporters will leave the eye for a new life -- Tiben leaves Orb to think about ‘how’.

They decide to pray to a god of conflict to aid them in theirs and to help them leave the eye for Kalgrun.

Narzhak demands a fire(pyre of death) and so they build one, then his messengers arrive and clarify that it was not a fancy way to say fire and want a sacrifice. Orb demands parameters. The parameters are easily loopholed, and Orb grants them a single mollusk as sacrifice.

The beasts accept it and then give Tiben an artifact that will bring them to Kalgrun, IF and only if he eats another nebulite. Tiben is disgusted and insulted by the suggestion and lets ‘em have it. The beasts are as stubborn as Tiben and claw and bite him into a mangled mess before leaving.

The nebulites are in full panic while Tiben is bleeding out quickly. Orb fuddles over him for a couple hours. Tiben dies. Huge Orb monologue. Orb leaves the eye on a boat, taking the artifact with them.

[/hider]


[hider=Might et al.]
[b]Narzhak:[/b] 

[i]Starting:[/i] 8 MP, 13 FP

2 FP spent on forming the Grey Heralds, a band of kostral and skestral that act as Narzhak's messengers.

2 FP (discounted from 4 by the Cannibalism portfolio) on the Goregrasp, an artifact that gives its wielder's blood a spark of divine power as long as they eat others of their kind. This manifests as unnatural strength, an increased lifespan and the blood itself having some miraculous properties when spilled, depending on the wielder's creator deity.

[i]End:[/i] 8 MP, 9 FP

[b]Grey Heralds:[/b]

[i]Starting Prestige:[/i] 0

+1 for minor role
+1 for collaboration

[i]End:[/i] 2

[/hider]