[center][h2]Negotiations where long[/h2][/center] Clouds slowed until utterly and eerily still, the sky around them dulling to grey before flashing a scarlet that consumed the horizon. Grym felt intuitively that this phenomena was probably not localized and would continue outward until every being in the Crucible had seen it, the marking of a dead God. It reminded him of a similar instance that occurred during the march South, though lacked context that now had been provided through first-hand experience. If anything, such a sign would only provide more credibility to the thread he’d spin — assuming anyone would hear him out. Garravar wasn’t wrong to be suspicious, but this wouldn’t be fun without a gamble. Plenty had to be done before Grym could leave the 22nd realm. Of course he’d claimed the node at this point but, unfortunately, Brey had made it more difficult by hiding his wealth of knowledge and evacuating the main city to surrounding settlements and safe havens. Grym tasked Nea with finding and relaying Vatarr’s brutal murder of Brey to the peoples, lending Akky to facilitate the process. She was better suited for the job and he knew better than to personally interject, considering the last time he’d visited it was with an army bent on conquest. Meanwhile, Grym scryed into Brey’s memories using his skull as a medium to determine where the geezer hid an entire library’s worth of knowledge. Finding out was simple enough, but returning the vast amount of texts to their shelves (and cleaning up the library itself) was an incredibly time consuming task. Luckily the offspring proved immensely useful in this regard, acting as manpower and being particularly proficient in organizing the library properly through their shared network of information. The offspring were to restore the library and then amalgamate around the node to create a sub-colony with which to reproduce and communicate with the Cradle. Nea would paint Grym as an interceptor who failed in defending Brey, but managed to force the ruthless Vatarr to flee — and the offspring, ever-obedient guardians. Grym felt comfortable leaving Nea and the offspring to finish tidying up once the projects had been set in motion. No warning bells had been rung in his absence, meaning the Cradle hadn’t been overrun or attacked yet, but it did strike him as strange. Whatever was going on up there, it would be better for him to get ahead of a potential conflict before it’s too late. He already knew next to nothing of the northern realms, aside from Monica’s retelling and that was ages ago it felt. So he fashioned an extremely large saddle for his new flying, fire-breathing megalodon and made haste for his home. After passing the threshold to 18, he made a few quick stops along the Southern settlements to inquire about any potential developments. Most mortals didn’t travel north out of fear of the Cradle, even though they’d not been bothered, but the few who had mentioned minor skirmishes with an unknown force toward the northern border. Grym boarded his noble steed once again and made a beeline for the Cradle. It was probably too late to prevent a battle now, but that didn’t mean all was lost. For now, he’d have to see the situation for himself and decide from there. [hr] The brave mortals of the eastern army who had marched out to face the insidious eldritch hive glowered out from behind their fortifications at the mosterouse legions that their invasion had stirred from slumber. Incidentally the fortifications they were currently holed up in were exactly the same ones that they had marched out from, because their glorious leader had taken one look at the hordes of offspring and had about turned the army and marched them right back on the double. Opinions were, to be frank, a bit mixed on this strategy. “Look, I know it doesn’t look good, but we are now at a strategic advantage!” The heavy set General Damio insisted from atop the walls of a fortress of dirt which were overlooking the siege line. He was speaking with a delegation from the Eumonian council who wanted to know why they had received reports of him setting out, only to then find him having returned back to his initial position without drawing a single drop of blood. “The enemy is right at our door, yes, but that is what we set up to do in the first place! Really you should be mad that I jumped the warhorn before the east finally got its act together not that I came back” he insisted, which got some grumbling from the delegation but they let him continue “Now we’ve got our defenses primed and ready to meet them, and some new toys to hold them back. We’ll hold them here and grind them to dust if they dare to come at us!” Indeed, the various trenches and forts that were spread across the pass between the 13th and 18th nodes were extensive and well dug in. Not only that, but their compliments of spears and crossbows were now augmented with a fresh delivery of magitech disk launchers and even the odd stone thrower, though those portable magic weapons where fewer in number than even their big brother artillery pieces, the 12th realm still having a way to go till they could start mass producing the intricate personal weapons. Arrayed against them, well out of range of any of the siege weaponry, was where Grym found his offspring, who had acted on instinct to respond to the invasion and now that it had been chased back to its starting point where simply standing there. Menacingly. [hr] “Oh dear,” were the words that reflexively fell from Grym’s mouth upon reaching an almost barren Cradle. The path of flattened earth leading north meant the Cradle had clearly mobilized nearly everything it had, but for what reason? He couldn’t help being excited to see for himself, despite initially intending to wait for Nea to catch up. In his new armor and sword-spear in hand, he followed the treaded path aboard the flying, fire-breathing megalodon. Surely, they’d understand he came to vouch for peace. Soon enough, hordes of offspring appeared over the horizon. They had organized into legions, clearly prepared for an assault and yet stood ominously still just away from the border. It was difficult to say from a glance alone, but the path ended where they stood and there were no signs of a battle waged. “Did I make it in time? How unlike me.” Grym said aloud to himself. “You guys stay right here. Little G’s gonna see what’s up.” He addressed the offspring directly. “And uh, if I’m not back in a few hours you can feel free to kill everything [b]north[/b] of the border.” His orders were met with a cacophony of dissonant groans. [i]I’m sure they get it.[/i] He thought to himself and then turned his attention toward the encampments in the distance. About halfway through no-man’s-land, Grym dismounted the shark and ordered it to join the horde while he proceeded alone; waving a tiny black flag. Until the distance between himself and the trenches was about one hundred meters, assuming the visitors didn’t turn him into a pin cushion on sight, he’d continue waving the flag to signal a request for parley. [hr] “Who in the world is that and what is he doing?” Damio asked out loud when he spotted the parohcing figure, before lifting up a newfangled spyglass and taking a closer look at the figure who aptly matched only one known description. “What the piz, is that Grym?!” the general identified the incoming figure, right before his head snapped to the side at the sound of crackling magics. One of the new disk clauncher crews had done the same identification routine as him and, as waving flags around in no way being a universal request for peace in this place, they responded as they would to an attack, which was to panic and immediately fire at the incoming god. Before the general could stop them, a round shield sized disk when hurling off towards Grym, the hastily fired slamming down into the dirt beside him, kicking up a ploom of dirt before it started flashing menacingly. [hr] Soldiers scrambled in their trenches with the echoes of confused yelling audible enough to hear from where Grym stood, but not clear enough to identify exactly what was being said. One rather decorated gentleman seemed to stick out among them, squinting directly at him. Just as the huss and fuss was dying down, a dangerous looking disc zipped through the air and hit the dirt several feet short of him — causing him to wince. “In hindsight, maybe I should’ve made a sign.” The short-sighted God muttered to himself. Staring at the disk crackling and trembling in the earth, he pointed toward it and loudly asked, “Is this thing dang-” His question was both interrupted and answered by the disk’s shattering explosion, sending shards of metal and a shockwave of destructive energy in every direction. This sent him into a backward somersault through the air, his cape flailing dramatically before swooping in front of him and becoming pinned once his torso smacked the ground. The armor of armorness had definitely done its job, but this is what Grym imagined getting the wind knocked out of you felt like. While dusting himself off and fixing his cape, amongst other re-arranged particulates, an idea came to mind — one he hoped no one on the other side would realize he could’ve done from the beginning. He cleared his throat and again spoke, only this time his voice boomed loud enough for the realm to hear. “Maybe you don’t do that again? I’m gonna start with some questions, cool? Cool. Let’s start with who are you people and why is there an army on my doorstep?” [hr] There was more distant confused yelling mnong the armed forces arrayed against him in response to that, and then once voice broke through the chaos as one man raised a weird cone thing to his mouth and barked loudly at the army: “Anyone else fires without my says so gets a knuckle sandwich from Angela and their pay docked from a month, so hold fire!” before the big bald bejeweled man turned his shouting horn towards the god “and you, stay right where you are!” while holding up and hand for him to halt, and then finally agreeing “and then we can talk” There was a bit more arguing going on atop the dirt rampart between the man, two warrior women and the delegation about that offer, before he raised the trumpet again and informed the god that “We were here to dispose of the abominations you have blighted this land with, but seeing as you are here, Grym, we are here to levy charges against you for your crimes” The man was handed a document by one of the delegation members, who had put him up to this, cleared his throat and then read it out “Grym, on behalf of the council of the 13th realm you are hereby charged with: Breaking the oldest agreement by claiming node 18 Slaughter of a divine creation Theft of said divine creation Property damage Grave robbing Corpse defilement Returning an evil thogut slain back to live via incompetence or malic And having a stated intent to attempt to kill the people’s gods“ There was a short pause before the man asked “How do you plead?” [hr] Grym listened to the plethora of accusations being made, most vague and lacking context. He certainly had an idea of what many of the items referred to, but the list itself felt like more of a show of force than formal accusation. From the looks of their encampments, these men had been here for some time. While it was impossible for him to discern the exact reason they’d delayed a direct assault, the fact is they had reason to hesitate. These men, women, and strange folk were nothing like the scholars and peasants of the Southern realms, being well outfitted and organized. Grym got the feeling they wouldn’t be pushed around, but he’d have to feel out their tolerance for his - shall we say - unorthodox demeanor. “It isn’t much fair to paint me into a corner with a loaded question like that, is it? I don’t know of your treaties or agreements and never consented to your laws. I don’t know you blokes, never seen any of you in my life, so [i]why are you here[/i] in my realm, enforcing laws I know nothing about? I am rather preoccupied at the moment, but I get the inclination you’re not just going to leave. If you’ll agree to speak on equal grounds instead of spouting accusations, we could avoid a whole lot of bloodshed.” [hr] A gruff hand wrenched the speaking horn from the general. Captain Pricilla pushed the horn to her mouth and yelled through it. “Or we could smatter you into the next crucible with enough firepower to make a node shit itself.” She stuck out her hand to keep the fat general from wrestling the horn away from her, his face squished under her palm. “If you want equal grounds, you’ll have to give it to us first; your invasion of the 18th node has cut off commerce from the south and endangered neutral parties. Give a show of peace, and then we can talk.” There was another moment of struggle as Angela, Damio’s right hand woman, then proceeded to wrestle the horn out of the captain’s hands in turn, and then man was about to thank her for the help when she raised the horn to her lips and yelled “Your creations are nasty and the world would thank us for getting rid of them” before finally handing it back to the general. He signed and tired to back too it when one last interruption came from the blond haired priest who had insisted he read out the the list of accusations in the first place (and who was a key member of the council delegation) inserted himself into the mix to swiftly add “Ignorance of a law is not a valid defense against breaking it” and at that point the general just gave up and awaited a response from the accused. [hr] “Give the horn back to one of the feisty ladies, robe guy sucks.” Grym booed and pointed a thumbs down toward the priest dressed in what looked like a gaudy dress (priest robes). Not a single chuckle from the crowd, just an awkward cough that felt louder than it should have been. These guys were stiffer than corpses, and he would know. With an exasperated sigh, Grym crossed his arms behind his back and went into boring monologue for the self-righteous invaders. “Whatever your preconceptions are of me, I have no fuckin’ clue who you are. I’m not defending myself against laws that aren’t mine and to which I’ve never heard of. I’ve not prevented trade and I’ve not attacked you. Did you think it a coincidence that your realms remained unbothered, or that you made it to my doorstep without being intercepted? The Cradle is obedient, my people live in peace, and I am trying to compromise with you lot despite your little ambush. I could have met you in force, yet I came alone. Realize the concessions I’ve made and at least speak with me,” A pause. Grym turns and points toward the cluster of docile offspring in the distance, before facetiously adding, “Or we can fight a bloody battle where many, [i]many[/i] mortals die.” [hr] “Being honest here, I’m hearing a lot of words coming from someone we’re apparently not letting speak with us. Only reason you aren't in the midst of exploding is because I have prevented it.” Damio retorted, before continuing “and despite all the air coming out of that skull, all I’ve heard is sidesping of responsibility and now threats.” “But if you want me to spell things out for you: Did you or did you not claim node 18, kill and reanimate Bena’s hydra, defile our shared creator’s corpse by doing the same to it and re-release the blight that is Garravar on this world, declare your intentions to kill all gods before a witness, and then head to the south, which has ever so consistently turned into a right bloody mess at near exactly the same time as you went there? To a place where a god has died? Did or did not these things happen?” he concluded by jabbing an accusatory finger over the long long distance that separated the two. [hr] Over and over these mortals insisted upon their laws and an unfounded jurisdiction over a land they’d never seen. It was proving rather difficult to manifest a facade when clearly their minds were made up —- had Monica really been that convincing of a witness? No, there could be more to it that he isn’t aware of. Letting his impatience steer the encounter wouldn’t prove better than simply failing to persuade them so, for now, he’d answer their questions to the best of his ability. “The 18th realm belongs to me. The Hydra attacked me; I took it. By the time I had taken the node, Peninal’s corpse had already disappeared.” A lie. “Garravar is from the previous Crucible if Pop’s memory serves, so how could he be alive?” And another. Grym’s voice deepened with emotional fervour; he was really getting into it now. “Your lot knows nothing of the South, of the alliance that bonded the Southern realm until Vatarr betrayed it.” Even the weather swayed in wake of the tide of meticulously portrayed passion, sounds of thunder echoing while an overcast sky threatened rain. He took a daring step forward, and then another, and another, pacing methodically as he spun his thread. “I watched Brey die at the hands of Vatarr; his people reel from the loss as we speak. Vatarr ravages the South unchecked, Asvarad is absent, and I’ve been left to mend Brey’s realm as well as my own. Any mortal could tell you the same.” That last part isn’t entirely true. There were plenty who still feared Grym, if only for superficial reasons. He’d never actually committed any atrocities against them and none of Brey’s scholars or magi had witnessed the wizard's death — Brey made sure of that. Plenty had witnessed Vatarr attack unprompted, though, including Duncan. It was a compelling narrative, at least Grym thought so. Still, chances were this debacle was rigged from the start, but the God had answered their questions. If relations continued to sour, the offspring would, at least, finally get a true field test. [hr] Pricilla turned to Damio. “An enemy of the Hydra is an enemy of the North, the 18th realm belongs to the Northern Alliance.” She looked down past Damio and towards the other Artack elites who lined the fortifications alongside cannons. Leaning in, she glared at Damio. “We await the order.” “Wait,” Another captain piped up and leaned in to conspire with Pricilla and Damio. “Have him relinquish the 18th node back to the Northern Alliance as a show of faith… do it on the grounds that we would put forth a query to the alliance on helping him stabilize the south (if his claims be true). If he is lying, he won’t agree.” Damio held his fist over his mouth as he thought about this as the priest pointed out that “He has already lied about the fate creator’s body,” something the knew about only from the admittedly somewhat unreliable source of Monica, who had a habit of declaring everyone her enemy, but the priest took Xavior’s theory about that reported reanimation being the source of Olipha’s old foe’s return as gospel, “how can we possibly trust any of his other words” “We’re not, but buying time can hardly hurt us either” Damoi replied at last, before surupticialy sending a few aids away with a few short instructions, and then turning his attention back to the god. “That not one but two divine creations stood guard over the node claimed by our creator should have let in on the fact that it belonged to someone else” he started off by poking a hole in the god’s claim, before offering the concession, “Despite that, we’d be willing to ask the northern alliance for forgiveness on your behalf, and even request aid for your work in attempting to stabilize the south, if you're willing to pay your debt by giving up your claim on the 18th realm as a show of good faith.” [hr] “I’ve no attachment to the nodes or intention of claiming the Crucible, and would gladly grant permission to your Gods, as well as safe passage to your men, but what you are asking for is the impossible. I can’t uproot my base of operations in the middle of a war and the Cradle can’t be moved. Besides, you’ve given me no reason to trust you. Despite that, I would greatly appreciate your assistance. The most I could do currently is offer up the 23rd realm, with the promise of my other nodes once the conflict is over.” Damio furrowed his brow and crossed his arms “Tch. Tricky bastard” he glanced too the others and asked “Thoughts?” knowing they’d be giving them anyway. “We’ve got no reason to think he’d keep his word, and it would be committing to a war with the rest of south with someone who could easily stab us in the back” was Angela’s take, before adding “besides, we’re under contract to remove the hive” and leaving the rest of financial implications unsaid. “He is a foe of our gods and our states, negotiating with him gives him credence and respect he does not deserve” the Priest insisted. Pricilla shook her head. “General, allow me to speak with the god.” She held out her hand for the horn. “Fine,” he said, offering her it but adding a final word of caution “Just remember what it is we are facing” With a nod, Pricilla snagged the horn and held it up. “You’ve been in the south for some time, so I will forgive some of your ignorance — but now allow me to quickly bring context so we can stop floundering. The 18th node has been claimed by you, but it shouldn’t have — to fix this, you are not to give permissions, but allow the recapture of it by the Northern Alliance. Next, you have murdered the Hydra, which was the Queen’s first creation in the 8th crucible — to make amends, you must relinquish its body and ask for the pardon of the Queen herself. Next, you’re at war in the south — you should know that the gods south of the 18th node are lesser in nature to the gods north of the 18th node and are not considered for inheritance, thus the Queen may see fit to aid you, should it prove worth. If you wish to truly become a friend of the North, it’s not an easy road — we are not the beings of the South. Do you truly wish to begin this journey, or should I mark you as another obstacle?” [hr] “Lesser? Ouch.” The God winced playfully at the remark. “You’ve made it painfully obvious how I’m seen through the lens of the North. Even if I were to concede to your demands, what guarantee is there that [i]you[/i] wouldn’t betray [i]me[/i]? There isn’t. The great northern kingdoms stand above all others, it seems.” He answered his own question, slowly raising one hand and emitting a distinct whistle. Faint rumblings began behind him where, in the distance, a cloud of dust was kicked up by the legions of now advancing offspring. The horde moved, less forward and more outward, fanning into a sprawling formation that resembled a regimented defense. Were there to be a battle, Grym intended to use his home field advantage. He had no reason to meet the northerners at their battlements, after all. “I will avenge Brey’s death on my own and only when that’s done, I’ll secede my lands to the kingdoms of the North; no hassle. You can leave peacefully now and you won’t be pursued or, if you insist-” And he glanced backward. “then we can skip the fuckin' around and get straight to where you find out.” [hr] “Even if he doesn't just attack us while we are trying to withdraw, he would leave the west of the 12th wide open for invasion at any time, not to mention the whole of the 13th” Damio said, assessing the situation, and finding it unacceptable. The fanning out legions were intimidating, but, tactically and strategically, “we need to hold this border one way or the other” be it by repelling the foe or simply standing, expensively, in his way. “Everything behind me already belongs to the alliance, we can hardly leave the front door open for untrustworthy folks to just waltz on in” he informed the god via a reclaimed horn, drawing a line in the sand, and on the map, “so you can either back off, put up your own door, or come and try and break ours down” At that he raised an forearm and fist and sent alertness rippling down the alliance fortifications, soldiers and engineers who had dropped their guard to listen to this protractor argument going back on alert, weapons primed, loaded and at the ready, fliers taking to the skies, magitech devices thrumming and readying to unleash magmatic devastation. [hr] "Oh? How admirable, valiant even." He chortled with what would've been an arched brow. "I don’t know how many times I've got to say it before it gets through your thick skull, fats, but I've no intention of invading your precious Northern lands." Akasha emerged from his shadow in a wisp of ethereal black smoke. She rested her cheek in his hand with which he affectionately caressed in turn, and then saddled himself. "It must cost quite a bit for you to be out here and I expect that number goes up by the day, but the offspring require little; so I can wait. If you choose to fight, then you'll have to command your men to invade my lands and die when unconditional peace was an option." With that, Grym flicked Akky's reigns and took flight back toward his defensive line. [hr] He had a point there, it was very expensive, and nobody knew that more than the merchant turned general. Plus, every moment they sat idle was another where Grym could take more control of the south for whatever ends he had. That said, that did give him an idea. “I say we hold, for now” the general said, and before anyone could protest he pointed out “He’s given a bit of the game away. Seeing as we know he’s fighting in the south, we don’t even need to risk our own to find out what these ‘offspring’ can do. We just need to send people south, and see if he’s as full of shit as he sounds” Pricilla cracked a grin. “General Damio, you managed to talk a horde into waiting. I’ll send word to the Commander of the Pristine Palace — I’m sure he will take delight in knowing the enemy is planning on sitting.” She leaned in close. “And with a few choice words, so long as we hold this position, using Vatarr we can fight him from the south up.” “Hmmm, yeah I did, didn’t I?” he said, cupping his chin and nodding to himself, before adding a correction “Or rather, we did, which I think calls for a celebration!“ “I’ll crack one the wine store then” Angela announced, immediately striding off to do just that. “A more modest celebration” he called after her, to which he only got a “too late!” before she disappeared from view, leaving the man shaking his head while looking forward to the evening to come regardless. “And the troops general?” an aid asked “Hmmm. Stand half down, and a small bonus for those who stay on guard. Just in case” he instructed Pricilla nudged the general and whispered. “No, keep them on alert and put in a rotation, this is still war.” “And then after half an hour, if nothing goes wrong, put em on the paladin’s standard rotation” he corrected, once again thanking his god for having sent someone with propper military experience his way. A subtle nod from Pricilla, and then they were off to celebrate. [hr] Grym retreated to the Cradle, leaving his forces on alert where they stood. At the entrance of the hive he sent Akky back to Nea in the 22nd realm. He entered the depths of the Cradle's cavernous structure and made his way toward Garravar's map located in the deepest reaches. "Fiddlesticks." Grym exclaimed to himself. The north had been conquered and Vatarr had gone on a bit of a spree in the south, himself. It was a great misfortune that no divine had been present during this little showdown. The mortals proved to be self-righteous and even xenophobic. Nevertheless, he'd bought himself time and they appeared content in leaving their assets on his doorstep — that would be a mistake he'd make them regret. He turned from the map and placed his hand against the Cradle. A low gentle resonated throughout the endless corridors and dugout caverns. The floor appeared to bulge and bluster, as if something was trying to break through, until several tendrils emerged. They coiled tightly around one another in a shape that resembled a flower about to bloom. The 'flower' pulsed with a harsh vermillion glow and then it bloomed, releasing a blinding light that consumed the area. What emerged was humanoid in shape, if nothing else. It was quite a bit taller than Grym and had a slender, dense figure. It was clearly a manifestation of the Cradle, but sturdier and more refined. There was a face with identifiable features; a mouth, four pitch black eyes, and a sea of thin vines sprouting from its scalp that almost resembled hair. It had four arms and two legs, though the rest of its parts remained mostly androgynous. In comparison to its analog offspring brethren, this one gave an impression of purpose and individuality. When it spoke, the Cradle shook as if its words struck every one of its nerves at the same time. "Finally, a voice with which to speak and a body with which to act." The being had a distinctly feminine voice and spoke well, though it could never be mistaken for human in tone. "You know me, chronically late." "So, what will we do? About the fat one and his folk." "Tunnel beneath them. Use isolated tunnels that don't lead back here, of course. Dig deep enough that they won't be found on accident and dig only during the day so any noise will be drowned out." "Oh ho, interesting. Then we strike while they sleep. It'll be a massacre!" Her voice trembled with anticipation. He nodded. "Keep most of your kin at the front for now, though. Make them think we're just waiting — until we're ready to strike." "Pish posh, Little Grym." She protested, before laughing it off. "A mother’s got to put food on the table! And with a meal like that just waiting on my doorstep, I’ll make sure it all goes perfectly." [hider=summary] Grym comes back to the 18th node, and finds that his hive’s offspring have sallied out from their home base. He finds them on the border of the 13th node, where they have (bloodlessly) pushed the invading forces of the northern alliance back to their fortifications. After getting blown up once, he engages in negotiations with the mortal armies headed by General Damio. They first accuse him of a list of crimes before bandying offers, counter offers and finally threats at each other regarding an alliance against Vatarr, Grym giving up node 18, who should withdraw from the border. Nothing is resolved and so the two forces end negotiations by hunkering down for a prolonged standoff. The north thinks they’ve won by getting Grym to back down from attacking them, and scheme to go around his back to contact Vatarr inorder to find out what they are up against, which has always been a concern of the skittish army. Grym meanwhile returns to the hive and creates for it an avatar to act as his own general on the front, instructing her to tunnel underneath the northern forces in order to ambush them from below while they sleep. [/hider] [hider=Might Summary] Starting Might: 2 -1 point spent using Brey’s skull to scry into the whereabouts of his absconded peoples and where he’d hidden the contents of the library. -1 point on creating The Cradle Mother [u][b]Cradle Mother:[/b][/u] The Cradle Mother acts as an Avatar of the Cradle itself. The Mother acts as a “brain” to the Cradle’s “nervous system.” She is a fully realized agent of the Cradle itself and has a will of her own, which she can inflict upon the offspring in the same capacity that the Cradle can. In the same vein she is as connected to the Cradle and offspring as any other of her kind, sharing information and able to communicate through the vast network of offspring that exist within the Crucible. She is capable of speech and projecting her voice through other offspring. Her body is sturdier than most offspring and she can freely manipulate it to suit her needs. Killing her isn’t impossible, but she does not die in the same manner mortals do. Her will lives on within the Cradle and she can even host herself in other offspring if need be, though the creation of another vessel similar to her original would require the expenditure of divine power; as with her initial creation. Her appearance: What emerged was humanoid in shape, if nothing else. It was quite a bit taller than Grym and had a slender, dense figure. It was clearly a manifestation of the Cradle, but sturdier and more refined. There was a face with identifiable features; a mouth, four pitch black eyes, and a sea of thin vines sprouting from its scalp that almost resembled hair. It had four arms and two legs, though the rest of its parts remained mostly androgynous. In comparison to its analog offspring brethren, this one gave an impression of purpose and individuality. [/hider]