[centre][h3]ZIMA the ZIMMER[/h3] & [h1][sub]Mish-Cheechel the Avenger[/sub][/h1] [img]https://i.imgur.com/LDRtUBd.gif[/img][/centre] [hr] [center]Death’s Road is Wide[/center] The heavens did not darken and the earth did not tremble when Zima the Zimmer and Mish-Cheechel the Avenger both let up the spirit and died. Sure enough a god descended from the whitened head of Galbar to war with the Green Murder, but such things hardly happen due to the death of any one mortal - mortals die all the time, after all, and gods choose to fight or not as they will and please. Just as the moon did not eclipse for the death or misery of mortalkind, the gods - like eclipses - did not fight or rage for such. Over these things mortals, alone, fought and raged- fought, raged, and died. The two of them stood in the treetops, dazed and confused. Mish-Cheechel looked at Zima and spoke. “Where are we? What happened? Why are we so high?” He glanced down, trying to see through the thick tree canopy. “Where’s the Green Murder?” “Over there.” Zima whispered from where she floated. Her form had lost its gleam and mist and had become static and dull. She wore no change to it and all that came from her was a disembodied voice, which wasn’t all that different. So it was quite hard to figure out where ‘over there’ was since she did not point, or have eyes to make it any easier. “I feel… distant. Like, no longer belong. I do not feel the wind or the air. I think… papa?” Mish-Cheechel glanced at her with furrowed brows, as though remembering something. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put? Didn’t I tell you to go home if I didn’t come back to you?” But Zima wasn’t listening. A giant orb had descended a long way off, and to a keen eye there was something green too. Zima began to fly. “Papa! It’s me! Zima!” She yelled excitedly. But she had no sooner sprung from her place before a flying squirrel of gigantic proportions landed atop her and gripped her in one of its paws. It turned on the surprised Mish-Cheechel and likewise grabbed him. Before either the manbjork or the nisshi could protest or resist, the great thing launched itself from the tree and went soaring across the sky. It flew higher and higher in no way a flying squirrel should have, and both Zima and Mish-Cheechel beheld the unrolling forest and riverlands beneath them with some awe. Mish-Cheechel, at the least, had never been so high - had never thought it possible a bjork could soar thus. “Where going? Where papa? Where?” Zima asked, her voice growing more and more frantic. “Papa! PAPA! IT’S ME! YOUR NISSHI!” she screamed to no avail. The squirrel did not seem to care much for her screaming or either of their struggles. Its grip was as rock or the hardest wood and nothing they did could garner them freedom. When the creature landed and released them at last, they found themselves on the bank of a great lake in the midst of the forestlands. It was not a lake known to Zima or Mish-Cheechel. But known or otherwise, it was immediately noticeable that it was no normal lake. There was a gate of enormous size at its epicentre, simply floating there in the air. “You have arrived at the Gate of Nebel,” a cloaked figure said, rising from the waters. “Only the worthy dead may pass.” “W-We died?” Zima said aloud. “No… No no no! I have to go back! Take me back! I need papa!” she cried out, becoming very small. She looked around, trying to find a means of escape but it was fruitless. Instead, she drifted down onto the bank and there she grew still, soft weeping the only sound coming from her. Mish-Cheechel glanced down at her impassively, then approached, bent low, and picked her up. He patted her comfortingly but Zima did not have it. She squirmed out of his arms for the first time in her life and huffed. "No! I have to go back!" “It’s only death, Zima. We’ve been through worse, haven’t we.” He turned to the cloaked figure. “Well, we’re dead. What’s this about being worthy now? We not good enough as we are, eh?” “If the soul is to pass,” the hooded figure spoke coldly, “the body must be suitably… [i]disposed of[/i].” Turning away and sinking back into the lake, it spoke a few last words. “The nisshi may pass - but [i]you[/i] now, you are not dead. You will be dragged out, so do not pass.” Ignoring the words of warning, Mish-Cheechel stepped out onto the lake with Zima waiting on the shore and found that he did not sink, but passed along as though the lake was frozen solid. “He…” Zima muttered, “The curse. You will return Mish! The Keeper said so. And Zima… I'll be alone?” Her last words were full of panic. The manbjork turned around with a raised eyebrow, then chuckled. “They’ve not been born who’ll part you and me, kit. You’ll never walk alone. Now come, we’ve got places to be, things to do.” He turned back towards the gate towering ahead and continued walking with purpose. “We’ve fought gods, Zim, what’s death?” Zima looked to the sinking cloaked figure, to the gate, then behind her towards the distant trees. Then the nisshi looked to Mish-Cheechel who walked ahead. She seemed to deflate, if her form could even do that and like a kit she followed after her parent with nothing else to say. They walked in silence until the gate hung above them, and Mish-Cheechel paused to inspect it as Zima caught up. Beneath the gate was only swirling darkness and the cold whispers of those who had passed before. Even as the two stood there, silent ghosts passed them by and disappeared into the tenebrous blackness of the beyond-world. Mish-Cheechel looked at Zima, his eyes steeled, and extended his hand to her. “Well, are you ready?” She took a deep breath, and then from her wispy form grew a small kit’s hand that clasped his. “Yes.” She finally squeaked out. The manbjork smiled approvingly. “Attagirl.” And without taking his eyes off her, he stepped into the swirling darkness. The both of them disappeared into the black miasma and passed on into the echoes of those who had passed and those who with certainty would. It was not a hostile darkness at all. As they walked - their steps echoing amongst the echoing whispers - a strange, deep-seated feeling of homecoming overcame them both, and they did not quite register when the darkness evaporated and wafted away to reveal a great wide path before them. It was so wide that twenty bjorks - nay, fifty bjorks - could walk abreast and still find ample space. There were many ambling up the path, many drifting past them. Mish-Cheechel glanced around, his hand still around Zima’s, and after a brief moment they set out on the smooth white road. There were calls, strange lights and what seemed like waving and welcoming hands when one let their gaze drift off the road; they were seductive, alluring, and the manbjork was very nearly drawn in. But it was a moment of brief weakness, chased off by the cold frown that set upon his eyes as he turned his gaze to the road and their ultimate destination. All the while Zima floated quietly alongside him. If at all she was enchanted by what they saw she made no attempts to have a closer look or chatter. Her hold on Mish-Cheechel just tightened and she went on with him. They walked at a steady pace, neither hurrying nor idling about, and in time another gate rose up before them. As they approached, one of those strange cloaked shades met them. “They who venture through the Gate of Chailiss must walk alone.” It commanded dispassionately. “Chailiss…” Zima whispered to herself. “We walk together.” Mish-Cheechel responded. “Then you shan’t walk at all.” The shade spoke simply. “You are born alone, life presses down on you alone, and you die alone. Alone, too, will you pass the gate or fail.” “That’s stupid. You’re stupid. And we’re going together.” Mish-Cheechel grunted. The shade did not respond immediately, but after a few moments it started chanting: [indent]“Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer; Sigh, it is lost on the air; The echoes bound to a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and all will seek you; Grieve, and they turn and go; They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many; Be sad, and you lose them all,— There are none to decline your nectared wine, But alone you must drink life’s gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no one can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a large and lordly train, But one by one you must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.”[sup][abbr=Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, with slight changes]*[/abbr][/sup][/indent] The shade fell silent, and then turned its lightless, hooded face towards them and enunciated with finality: “Alone.” Mish-Cheechel glanced down at Zima, and then with surprising speed lurched at the shade, his fist tearing its head right off. There was a sigh as the thing dissipated. “Alone, poor fools, alone.” “What is gate? What waits on other side?” Zima asked in her quietest voice. “It was a pretty song…” The shade slowly reformed and, ignoring glaring Mish-Cheechel, answered Zima. “It is a doorway along the path to the afterworld. There may be more doorways beyond it; there may be none. To step through to the other side you must pass the trial; you must face it alone. Steel your heart and step forth.” “What is trial?” She next asked, stepping a bit closer to the apparition. “It is a test, a challenge,” the shade responded monotonously, “only those who pass the test can walk through the gate.” Zima said nothing after that but stared at the gate before them. She then looked down at Mish-Cheechel. “We are here now. Alone or not, what is trial to those that fought a god? Zima will be okay.” The manbjork looked up at her, his eyes thoughtful. Then he smiled and approval lit up his face. “It is like drinking water,” the revenger chuckled. “Be well, Zima. I will be waiting for you on the other side.” “Promise me.” Zima said, before she stepped through the gate. The manbjork said nothing, but set his eyes on the gate and, after a few moments had passed, stepped in too. [hr] [list][*][hider=Summary] -Mish and Zima are dead. Both take this differently and witness some of the fight between Phelenia and Chailiss before they get taken by a giant squirrel (one of the angels/daemons/valkyries Voi created, called vahuras) to the north’s Ea Nebel Gate. -They enter the through the gate and walk the path of souls, known as the Death-Road, after Mish bickers with an apparition. -The path of souls is crazy stuff and we get to see what it’s like. Mish is indifferent, Zima is still depressed over the entire thing. -They reach another gate that will start them on a trial but are told they have to do it alone. Mish doesn’t like this but they have no choice. They have a terse goodbye and Zima steps through.[/hider] [*][hider=VIGOR] Voi: [indent]--Create angelic spirit beings known as vahuras. These are invisible spirit beings - akin to angels, valkyries, daemons - who collect the souls of the newly deceased. The vahuras can appear in any form - a harpy, a giant snake, a raven, in this post a flying squirrel. The collection can occur in any conceivable way - the vahura may gulp the newly-deceased up, may catch them and fly off, may tie them up and drag them away, may taken them in some kind of vehicle or throw them in a net, etc. Vahuras generally transport the soul to the nearest gateway to the underworld. Vahuras also patrol the Death-Road, fighting off the siren-like beings that are Iqelis’ representation, known as iqelins. --Create siren-like spirit demons known as iqelins. These beings exist along the Death-Road, never on it, and generally attempt to lure the souls of the deceased off the road to be consumed and destroyed. They generally avoid confrontation with beings such as the vahuras, though a multitude of iqelins may take the opportunity to strike down and destroy individual vahuras if the opportunity offers itself. --Create the Death-Road and the Gates of the underworld, including their trials. Each trial tests the soul on a ‘virtue’ held highly by the god whose gate it is. To pass some trials, one must have exhibited that virtue in life. For instance, Voligan's virtue is strength, and so his trial tests the given soul’s greatest weakness - for a person is only as strong as their weakest point. Zenia, being a goddess of immediate joys, tests the virtue of self-control and resistance to immediate temptations. Jiugui, meanwhile, tests the virtue of moderation - neither utter teetotalism nor complete drunkenness. Ruina, meanwhile, tests the virtue of determination. A complete list of trials is available on the Discord or on request.[/indent][/hider] [*][hider=Spirit] Zima + Mish +1 for post +1 for collab +1 for medium length = 3 Spirit for each. [/hider][/list]