[centre][h3]ZIMA the ZIMMER[/h3] & [h1][sub]Mish-Cheechel the Avenger[/sub][/h1] [img]https://i.imgur.com/LDRtUBd.gif[/img] -v.- [h2][color=a2d39c]Phelenia[/color][/h2][/centre] [hr] For a time after the near-death battle with the monstrosity of vile ink and viscera, Mish-Cheechel travelled from clan to clan and dam to dam. He made camp somewhat upriver or downriver, or in the woods, and he traded his knowledge of bear-taming for news on the Green Murder and the happenings with the clans. He followed rumours of wildlife acting out of the norm, but no matter where he went there was no sign of the Green Murder. So far did he and Zima travel that the bjorks they met knew neither of Clan Rod nor of the Green Murder and the horrors it had committed. He did not fail to recount the terrible happening to them, and so they knew to count the Green Murder, the eagle god, as an enemy of bjorkkind. They looked at the burned great form of Mish-Cheechel and were full of horror and awe. In conversing with the wisebjorks of the many clans he crossed, a certain idea blossomed in Mish-Cheechel’s mind - the seed of which had been planted the moment the Green Murder struck those many moons ago. “It is terrible what you say, friend Mish-Cheechel. May the gods aid you on this your quest, for the gods are good.” A wisebjork of some distant clan told him one day. “Are they good though?” Mish-Cheechel asked - not aggressively, but rather curiously. “Well of course they are. The Singing Maker is good, Old Bjork is good.” The wisebjork scoffed. Mish-Cheechel picked up a twig and chewed on it for a few moments. “But the eagle god isn’t good, friend, and it’s a god.” “Well, yes, but-” “And if the eagle god’s a god, and the eagle god’s not good, then it’s wrong to say that the gods are good, isn’t it? The gods aren't all good, that’s a fact. In fact, how do we know that the Singing Maker’s good? How do we know, really, that Old Bjork’s good? Where were they when the Green Murder descended on us? Didn’t they care? If that’s true then they aren’t good. Couldn’t they stop it? If that’s true then how can we call them gods? If not, do they just not know what the Green Murder did? What kind of god isn’t aware of what’s happening to its creations? Say this stuff to your kits, friend, but don’t sit there and tell me that the gods are good.” Mish-Cheechel stood and glanced down the river, then sniffed and chucked his twig away. The wisebjork was silent, watching the half burned giant. “Let’s go, Zima.” Mish-Cheechel muttered, and the misty Zima followed quietly after him. She was often quiet in those days, Zima. No longer did she zip about and laugh with mirth, taking new forms and marvelling at the world. No, she stuck to Mish-Cheechel’s side like a newborn kit to its mother, and when it came time for stopping and chatting she would float by quietly, saying little unless addressed. On the rare occasion that Mish-Cheechel found her alone, she always seemed to be drifting aimlessly. Several times he had to snap her out of whatever she was thinking about to get her back to the present, and each time she would apologize, say nothing more, and they would go about their day. Worse yet, her voice sounded haunted, no longer carrying that youthful charm. Now muted, softer, perhaps even a bit nervous, usually dazed and lost in thought at the initial start of any conversation. It seemed Bear’s death had taken a toll on her soul and it had not been filled with vengeance like his own at the loss. No, she had been filled with sadness instead. Mish-Cheechel said nothing of the change, merely observing his companion and watching for any change. With time, however, there grew within him a conviction that Zima would not be able to handle the arduity of the warpath and had to, in some way, be sheltered from further pain. What truly terrified him, however, as he sat camped by streams and stoking fires on those cold nights, with her hanging not too far off, was how little her suffering made him feel. He remembered the moments of their confrontation against the the demon, remembered with slow detail the manner in which Bear had been gored and how broken Zima had become in that very instant, reflected on the echo of her former self that she now was, and was nearly brought to tears by the fact that [i]he felt nothing[/i]. Nothing, that was, other than the cold rage that burned forever in his heart - and even that rage, even the fury at the loss of all whom he loved, had become a sort of cerebral wrath. He could look on it all with detached coolness, identify that he had been wronged and that vengeance was due. He could identify, in fact, that any sort of wrong necessitated vengeance; he saw all cries of vengeance as his own cries of vengeance. And for the sake of achieving that vengeance, his life, Bear’s life, Zima’s life - everything - was cheap. And so Mish-Cheechel had come to the conviction that he had to, as a matter of some urgency, remove Zima from his company before she ended much the same way Bear had. It was as they were trekking between the endlessly tall trees of those northern forests, with Mish-Cheechel deep in thought on this very matter, that their path crossed that of the very being the manbjork and his companion were hunting. At first it was nothing more than a green dot high up in the heavens. It flew into one of the darker clouds in the sky, which not soon after started to rain down upon the world. The green dot flew out of it again and then headed in the general direction of Mish-Cheechel, but landed about half a mile away from him on a branch overlooking the nearby river. The Green Murder was looking upstream seemingly in anticipation while it kept flexing its wings, ready to take off at any moment. Mish-Cheechel, perhaps as it wanted, had spotted it as it streamed across the heavens, his coal-black eyes darting after it and snapping, at last, to where it disappeared into the forest canopy. He turned to Zima. “Stay here and don’t move. [i]Do not move[/i]. If I’m not back in a few hours go back home - to your papa or whatever family you have. [i]Don’t follow me[/i].” And without a second word to Zima, he dashed through the trees at the riverbank and rushed stealthily from tree to tree, his eyes alone tearing the trees and his grip causing the wood of his spear to groan. Long minutes passed before his eyes alighted on the creature. The manbjork clenched his great teeth and glared at it. There was going to be no stealth about this - he was going to look it in the eye throughout. “Come down, you slaughterer of innocents, come down you slayer of my kin. There’s blood on your claws, demon, and you’ll be made to pay!” His voice was as thunder and the birds all around and the little creature of the forest scrambled in fright away. He held his spear above his head, an open challenge, and he beat his tail against the earth like a war drum. “This chase is at an end, and if you have a shred of honour in you, you’ll meet death like a god - or better, learn from us and meet it like a bjork!” The Green Murder glanced down slightly to see the bjork and tilted its head. For a second it looked up again, upstream, then flew down to land before the vengeful manbjork without showcasing even a shred of fear or remorse. [color=a2d39c]“You have no idea who I am, do you?”[/color] It asked in perfect bjork tongue, as if it was a natural speaker. Mish-Cheechel did not bother to respond, but stepped forward and leapt with all his might at the creature, spear drawn back and teeth clenched tight against each other. With a great exhalation, he lurched the spear, gripping it still, at the god’s head. It would have felled any normal creature. But as for the Green Murder, it harmlessly bounced off its feathers. [color=a2d39c]“Such arrogance. But it is only born out of ignorance.”[/color] It said as it moved its head even closer. [color=a2d39c]“You have called me a god. Yet you fail to understand what that entails. Do you truly believe your pitiful tool could end me?”[/color] Mish-Cheechel brought his face close too and glared into the god’s avian eyes. “Great though you are, eagle god, you have done pitiful things - and so things as pitiful as we, this spear and me, shall bring your greatness low. By small means shall I slay the greatest beings!” And with that final cry, his two black eyes were suddenly red and alight, and his entire form - his head, his arms, his body and his tail - exploded with a great roaring red flame. The flame engulfed his spear and his teeth, and he leapt forth - a blaze, a great burning flame of vengeance consuming him that it may, in so doing, consume the eagle god. The flames raged and hissed and burned away the leaves and shrubs, ate away at the surrounding trees and were in all ways a terrible thing to feel and behold. But eventually they died down, revealing an untouched Green Murder standing amidst the firestorm’s remnants. It glanced at the spear pressed against its chest, then at the destruction that had been wrought all around. [color=a2d39c]“Interesting,”[/color] it noted. Then its attention returned to the manbjork. [color=a2d39c]“What do you know about pitiful? About greatness? Your life is but a speck upon this world; it is inconsequential and irrelevant.”[/color] A fallen tree that was lodged in the bed of the river beside them started to crack and groan. The current of the water was growing in strength. [color=a2d39c]“What could you know of the things I have done? You name me Green Murder, for that is the only thing you know about me with any certainty. I am entrusted with powers and duties far beyond your comprehension. Abandon this futile quest for vengeance for it has failed. You failed. Go and find a better meaning to the life you still have.”[/color] The flame-eyed manbjork, his fur as cinders and his flesh flayed by his fires, spoke through burst lips. “My life- and their life- is- not- ingownsil- TO ME. VENGEANCE DOESN’T CARE IF YOU’RE A GOD! JUSTICE FALLS ON GREAT AND SMALL ALIKE! YOU’VE KILLED; YOU’LL DIE!” And the flames in the bjork’s eyes roared once more, the spear pressed harder against the god, and all around them was a great conflagration and the hellish fury of he who bore the righteous vengeance of Clan Rod. It was then that Zima darted into that great forest fire, rather clueless to what was transpiring. She looked between the burning Mish-Cheechel and the giant green eagle god, over and over again. Her form became agitated and then all at once with a gasp she yelled out with considerable emotion in her voice. "Mish?!" She floated towards him but stopped as his aura of flame consumed all within its radius. She floated back and forth, eyeing them. "Mish! Stop! You'll burn to death! You'll die! You'll die like BEAR! STOP!" She screamed at him to no avail. Mish-Cheechel’s fire claimed everything around him and the Green Murder. Great trees caught fire. Their trunks groaned. One came down with a thunderous crack. It sent a blazing wind in all directions. Zima was pushed further and further back. Cinders and smoke filled the air around them but the Green Murder remained untouched. [color=a2d39c]“What justice will there now be for the trees that you are burning.”[/color] She said coldly. [color=a2d39c]“What justice is there for the fawn who lost their mother to the wolf? When does the rabbit enact vengeance upon the eagle?”[/color] She inched closer again with her head to Mish-Cheechel. [color=a2d39c]“There is no such thing as vengeance beyond the borders of the conscious mind. Justice is an illusion.”[/color] As she spoke, the current of the river picked up even more. A thunderous noise echoed through the low valley in which both the Green Murder and Mish-Cheechel stood. [color=a2d39c]“You are about to witness true power. Before you leave this world I will give you my name. My real name. I am Phelenia. Goddess of life! Queen of all animals! Protector of nature! Creator of all the beauty in this world! You stand before the steward of both life and death.”[/color] In the distance a huge wave of water came roaring down the riverbend. The burning Mish-Cheechel, barely distinguishable from the raging firestorm, turned with blistering gaze on the goddess and the coming deluge. He opened his great burning maw and a ripple of scorching heat swept the air before him. “ME, GREEN MURDER. I AM JUSTICE.” His voice was a torrid billow that stirred the burning forest around them even further. “I AM VENGEANCE! I AM MISH-CHEECHEL, AND YOU- WILL- [i]WEEP[/i]- MY- NAME!” And then he raised a still-burning spear above him as the deluge crashed towards them, and a single blazing eye fixated on Zima. “ZIMA!” He growled. “ON ME!” There came a moment of hesitation from the spirit. She looked to Mish-Cheechel, to the Green Murder, to the flames, to the approaching water, then stopped and stared at the burning spear. Whatever was going on inside her mind in that moment was a mystery, as her features became blank. Then she roared and leaped into the inferno. She exuded cold to protect herself but still she screamed, whether out of pain or frustration none could tell but she found her mark upon the spear and upon it - within it - she lay claim. Its flames licked her and her chill burst forth like the mighty crack of an iceberg, and thus the flames became a bright blue. The frostfire licked at Mish-Cheechel’s blazing skin, kissed his blistered and torn lips and sent a refreshing breath of coolest air into his two vast lungs. His blazing flame-red eyes did not cool, but his flame met the flame of Zima and all was perfect harmony and concord. Served hot, revenge burned all things; and so in that very moment - with his fiery eyes on the Green Murder - Mish-Cheechel learned that vengeance was a dish best served cold. He gnashed his teeth and felt ice pulverise between them, and he lurched his arm back even as he stepped forth, and with all the might and power he could conceive of launched the spear-that-was-Zima upon the Green Murder even as the goddess’ cascading water froze up before swiftly joining the great frostfire storm. The waters that promised death mere seconds before exploded all at once and the baleful grip of burning ice most unnatural spread everywhere. Zima the Spear's scream echoed throughout the land as she tore through the fabric of the world. She ate icy flame and frost alike as the spear lacerated the stuff that air was made of on her unfailing trajectory for the very heart - what heart! Dead, hardened stone! - of the eagle god. When the steam and cinder and frostfire cleared up at last, Mish-Cheechel could see that Zima the Spear had pierced an inch into the chest of the goddess in her eagle form - something that left even the goddess visibly surprised. The roaring water of the flood was coursing around them. With a wing she pushed away the frozen spear and it shattered when it hit the ground. A drop of divine ichor bled out of the wound. For the first time in her life the goddess felt the pang of pain, real pain! And it summoned such fury within her. [color=a2d39c]“Your name,”[/color] she said slowly, though she said each word with pure venom, [color=a2d39c]“is Mish-Cheechel.”[/color] She was looming over him now. Her green eagle form cast a great shadow over him as well. He was not worthy of basking in the light of her Father. He was not worthy to stand on His world. She leaned forward, and his unblinking, coal-black eyes hovered on the bleeding wound then met hers - there was almost a smile on his lips, a laugh in those coals. [color=a2d39c]“Know that you. Are. [i]Nothing[/i].”[/color] With those words of pure hate spoken, she raised her claw and she rent his bjorkish form open like she had done to the kit on that fateful day oh so many moons ago. But it did not satiate her. Like an eagle she shrieked and screamed and kept clawing until there was nothing left of his body but a bloodied mess. And as she flew up, away from the scene, her will upon the water vanished and both the shattered spear and the remnants of the manbjork were swept away. The Green Murder flew over the flood wave traveling downstream, letting all the bjorks know that this was her divine punishment for their deafness to her words. A bitter wind began to blow down from the north as the flood raged, bringing ominous clouds that foretold only one thing; a blizzard was coming... [list][*][hider=Summary]Mish-Cheechel spreads the wonders of domesticating bears and other animals all over the place, in exchange for news about the clans and in hopes of getting information about the Green Murder. He also spreads knowledge of the Green Murder and its terrible crimes to such clans he passes as don’t know of the COMING GREEN GENOCIDE. He also sits around contemplating how he feels nothing! Nothing but cold rage! But even that rage is now a sorta detached rage. Zima, meanwhile, is seriously traumatised. Mish comes to the conviction that she’s not made for this sort of thing and he needs to send her off home. Anyway, before he can get to that, they cross paths with- you guessed it, THE GREEN MURDER! So they’re sorta talking but fighting, but also shouting, but really going all ham, but also making jibes. So Mish isn’t having any of this and sets himself on fire. Phelenia is like, bro, I AM A GOD. Mish is a bit stubborn tho, so he sets himself alight again, but MORE. Then Zima comes screaming and things get exciting. Phelenia SUMMONS THE RIVER AGAINST THEM. But Mish and Zima don’t even care man, they’re in the ZONE. They do a really cool power-rangers morphing move and BANG, Zima possesses the fire spear, turning Mish’s VENGEANCE FLAMEs into baleful FROSTFIRE. Spear goes flying, Phelenia feels it; that’s gonna scar. And poof, Zimzim dies. :C So, after all that, Mish is all worn out and Phelenia just kills him like his son and lets the flood take their remains away.[/hider] [*][hider=Vigour] Phelenia Start Vigor: 2 - 1: Create a flood in a river Phelenia End Vigor:1[/hider] [*][hider=Spirit]Zima: 13 Spirit [indent]+1 for featuring +1 for collab +1 for 10+ paragraphs +1 for 25+ paragraphs +4 for completing significant mission of finding the Green Murder! -21 to brave the fires of vengeance, become the blue spear of frostfire, and deal a most grievous blow to a god. (Then subsequently die) 0 Spirit remaining.[/indent] Mish-Cheechel: 6 Spirit [indent]+1 for featuring +1 for collab +1 for 10+ paragraphs +1 for 25+ paragraphs +4 for completing significant mission of finding the Green Murder! (6+8=14) -1 Spirit on GREAT VENGEANCE FIREBALL JUTSU! -3 Spirit on EVEN GREATER MORE VENGEFUL FIRESTORM JUTSU -10 Spirit on FIRE BALLISTA STYLE: GREAT ICEFIRE ZIMA-SPEAR OF MUCH KILLING JUTSU! He dead, no moh spirit![/indent][/hider][/list]