[center][h2] The Past and Present[/h2][/center]


	An alpine breeze snaked over a short meadow, mixing the smell of flowers into the air. Olipha shivered and sank deeper into her wooden throne. Only her face was exposed as she pulled her thick cloak tighter around herself, eliciting a laugh from Garravar.

	The man sat on the throne to her right, icy blue eyes studying the Queen. Unlike Olipha he wasn’t dressed for the nip of autumn but rather boasted a simple leather vest tied across his broad chest and matching dark trousers. Long silken hair as bright as a daffodil flowed freely from his scalp, occasionally obscuring his view of Olipha. 

	“Too cold for your liking?”

	Olipha couldn’t help but smile back at the man, his grin as infectious as ever. “No, no, I like it! I think this is a great idea.”

	“Well I hope so, I only carved every throne with my bare hands you know.” Garravar sat back in his seat. “Besides I thought maybe a little fresh air would help clear any jumbled thoughts we may be having here and there.”

	“Oh?” Olipha sat up. “Are you having jumbled thoughts, dear?” 

	Garravar’s smile shivered for a second before he looked up at the sky. “Well, no. I just thought…”

	Olipha shook her head. “It was a wonderful thought, darling. I’m sure all the others will absolutely love it.”

[hr]

Grym sat against the node with a sliver of another prized melon dribbling chunks over himself, in Monica’s form. [i]Cathartic.[/i] He grinned to himself. Whether he could taste the succulent nectar of the perfectly ripe wedge, he’d never directly admit. The view of his expanded realm had him pondering loose ends. Bulldozing the shut-in wizard was a given, but what of his realm and what of Peninal? Being alone had forced him to over-extend himself. It was nothing more than luck that the mortals had chosen to follow him. His blessing did not bind them, even if he had made it sound differently. 

Grym was less worried about his success than he was about the longevity of his efforts. He had acted on the assumption that the South wasn’t unified in the same way that the North was, but there wasn’t any way for him to know that. What distracted him more than the rest was Peninal. Grym never took dad at his word from the very beginning and the missing head further ingrained this hypothesis. Whatever the reason, Peninal’s form retained unique value even after the “reset.” Without the head, Grym was left to wonder what he had instigated with the revival of Peninal’s flesh.

Even now Peninal lingered next to him while he pondered. His body was a strange mixture of accelerated decay due to a particular antlered god’s meddling, as well as a pus-ridden canvas for the cradle’s infection… but there was something more to it. Squinting with Monica’s (usually tear-saturated) eyes, he couldn’t help but feel like something was different about the body, as if somehow it felt colder to be around.

It was ridiculous to think, the body being dead and all, of course it’s cold, and yet it felt unusually cold. As if on cue, a stiff breeze snuck by, pushing that phantom chill from Peninal and right into Grym; he couldn’t enjoy his melon like this, this was too much. Grym pulled the rind away from his (Monica’s) face and reached out towards Peninal.

A flash of blue ice cut across Peninal’s chest before Gyrm could even tap the cadaver. His fingers retreated in surprise, but in that split second the crack of bones and the rending of flesh sounded, hidden behind a blue flash of light. A sharp pain tugged in Grym’s stomach and when his vision fuzzed back together, Peninal’s body was laying on the ground with a large burn covering half of its form, but more importantly, a [url=https://youtu.be/DmD4gRG2ly4]large spear of ice was poking out from his gut.[/url]

A voice not unlike a winter chill sounded from behind the god as the spear slowly was pulled out of Grym’s body, squirming pain through every inch. “Don’t move just yet, it will hurt more if you do.” 

If Grym had a brow to arch in response to the ghosty, yet intimidating, voice he would have. “I don’t really get hurt, but I suppose the sudden chill has hurt my ability to enjoy a certain summer fruit.”

Another tug and the spear was free. Uniquely, there was no indication in Grym’s stomach that it was ever there, except for the aforementioned chill. 

“Good.” The voice answered

Grym turned toward a figure of immaculate stature [and good looks] towering over him. He cupped his jaw, clearly aware of a familiarity he should be shaken by. “You’re um, wait don’t tell me, I know this. Ga-... Gandalf, Gary, Gallahad, Ghirhadeli…” The trail of incorrect affixations continued on and on.

“Garravar,” he answered. “And you are Grym, defiler so it seems.” The blonde man turned from the other god and looked outward over the host of cradle infections and blessed mortals. He pinched a chin and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground to lean on. “Which node is this?” He didn’t turn around to look at the node behind him.

“23.” Grym answered thoughtlessly. “You killed Pops, didn’t you? From the old Crucible.” He hesitated. “From the [b]old[/b] Crucible..” Grym repeated, shifting his gaze to directly meet Garavar’s. Gears were turning and Grym couldn’t quite fathom it all yet, but an immense sum of expectation welled up in the God’s mind; so much so that there were no words to adequately communicate it.

Garravar on the other hand seemed to regard Grym with a lazy look, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. “Peninal killed himself. Is the eighteenth node still accessible?”

Nothing could be more exciting right now. Everything that plagued or consumed space in Grym’s mind amounted to ash in comparison to the development before him. He was a child in the face of a real life dream. “Node 18 is mine, along with the map; for now. Why?” Gods, he wanted to know why. Every bone and bit of flesh yearned for what Garavar could provide to him. How could he have been so lucky?

Furrowing a brow like the answer was obvious all along, Garravar answered, “I want to consult my map.”

“Wait!” Grym pleaded more than asked. He composed himself enough to formulate an avenue of dialogue. “You must know why I am shocked. There are no words to explain your being, nor my surprise. You’re an obvious anomaly.  All I can say is I do not abide by Peninal’s words or his dictation of Crucible law. [i]Please[/i] enlighten me. Indulge my ignorance, Garavar.”

The winter god sucked in a breath before looking over Grym, as if acknowledging him for the first time. After a long pause he flicked an empty hand forward. “Why?”

“Because the Crucible is a farce and I wish to break it. Your being is proof it can be done, proof Pops was wrong.” Grym dissolves the illusion of his being for now, presenting his true self to Garavar as a means of transparency; even if his identity had already been deciphered. “I want to know.” Grym insisted.

Garravar shot half a laugh through his nose. “You contradict yourself. If it’s a farce, then what is there to even break. If you want to escape the cycle, however, then the first thing you have to understand is how real the Crucible is.”

“I knew you had a sense of humor,” Grym wagged a playful finger. “I had an idea, but I wasn’t quite sure. Pops lied… or he was wrong, or both. I want more than the struggle, I want it all.” Grym stated plainly, if not vaguely. “I’m eager and impatient, you see. You couldn’t have revived next to a more willing idiot.”

“Peninal was a failure, to put it plainly,” Garravar was already back to being stern. “But he wasn’t much of a liar. Every node must be captured before the triggering event, that much is true and I would like to see my map.”

"What will you do with the map? What do you gain by coming back like this?" Grym felt like he was being dismissed when there were so many questions. Garavar's revival was as fascinating as it was unpredictable and it had drawn doubt in Grym's mind that he hoped to quell. There isn’t a Crucible where he marched on in ignorance, letting the God with the answers walk away; it would drive him mad.

The man dropped the iron look of his visage and the corner of his mouth tugged into the smallest grin. If it was to put Grym at ease, it was doing a terrible job — the smile looked more menacing than inviting. “You want to know everything that I know, don’t you?”

He nodded in earnest, meeting Garavar’s oppressive gaze. From within the void between those two gaping sockets a lively flicker briefly gleamed. His response teetered between bubbling excitement and obsessive curiosity. “What fun is a game if I don’t know how to play it properly?”

“Find a god who already has claimed a node and kill them,” Garravar said as if he was talking of something simple. “After that, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“It’s settled then. You aren’t really asking what isn’t already an inevitable result of the Crucible as it stands. You’ll find your map buried in a gargantuan hive near node 18. I’d request you avoid destroying the hive if possible — that would set me back a few weeks.” Grym climbs aboard his steed and whistles to signal his vanguard to ready the offspring. It was time to move. “Where will I be able to find you afterward, G-man?”

Garravar turned away from Grym, his eyes scanning the north. Slowly, little shards of ice began to prick over his skin. “[i]I’ll[/i] find [i]you[/i].” 

With that, a stiff breeze hit the man, his body shimmering into a cloud of frozen dust.

“What a dangerous fellow.” The God thought aloud before taking to the air toward node 22.

[hider=Summary]Grym had taken a moment to rest and contemplate various loose threads that have been itching in the back of his mind for what has been his entire existence thus-far. In the midst of these thoughts Peninal’s reanimated corpse underwent a reaction which resulted in Garavar being reborn in the new Crucible. He and Grym had a dialogue, though Grym wasn’t able to learn very much from the elusive Garavar. Garavar asked to see his map and agreed to fill Grym in if he was able to kill another God in the Crucible. Grym conditionally agreed and allowed Garavar to set out toward the map while he sought after his own task.[/hider]

[hider=Might Summary]Starting Might: 0

End Might: 0.
[/hider]