Name: Terlina Imythedralen Malophoros Erichthoniusa, known as T.I.M.E.
Aspect: Time. Time is everything that was, is and will be. Time was there before the Gods first appeared and will be after they have all passed but recently, Time gained consciousness in the form of Terlina Imythedralen Malophoros Erichthonius.
T.I.M.E’s powers range from slowing the passage of time, seeing into the past, accelerating time in big areas or around a certain object, freezing objects/mortals in time but she isn’t limited to that. TIME can see the potential futures of her creations and if it suits her, provide them with glimpses of said future.
Time itself touches everything and everyone, be it a simple stone to a creation so vast that it could hold the whole world on its back.
Persona: True Neutral - TIME’s greatest ambition is to create a realm where past, present and future can coexist,
Base Form: The Ferryman’s base form is difficult to put into words. Well, the form - or the shape - comes fairly obvious to those with human eyesight: He, she, they appear as a lanky, bald humanoid in some sort of robed attire - a shepherd’s gown, perhaps? His, her, their hands reveal only a collection of skinny digits and an indication of long nails. The rest of the body hides within the folds and shadows of the gown, showing no further detail beyond the implication of a body.
Facial details appear unclear to onlookers - to some, they are sick and bony; to others, full and fair. No matter who looks, the face is either way always overshadowed by an obfuscating shade, perplexing onlookers further. That being said, the Ferryman can be perceived perfectly fine - he, she, they may just come off as somewhat off-putting.
Aspect: Death (Ferryman of Incorporeal Souls) The Ferryman is a god of death, though not necessarily THE god of death. Death is a natural process, no less natural than being born and living - things are born, they live, they die. Everything from stone to mortal understands this cycle. Yet where the souls go after that? That is not necessarily a natural process. How do souls know how to get to the afterlife? What if there is no afterlife at all, but a reincarnation process instead? Hell, what if the souls don’t even realise that they’re dead?! Well, someone’s got to tell them and take them where they’re supposed to go, whether it be to some infinite field of reeds or inside some pregnant lady’s belly.
The bottom line is that souls, like people, need infrastructure. The Ferryman exists to meet that demand. This gives the Ferryman power to transport souls, as well as a natural affinity for finding, seeing and speaking with the dead. His, her, their powers are split between the self and the vessel (to be constructed IC): The small ferry known as Wellington can traverse air, land and water and carry several more souls than it should seemingly have space for. It exists in all temporal instances simultaneously so that the Ferryman has the chance to correctly pick up all dead souls without too much of a hassle. However, when Wellington exists in any other time than the present, its riders may not exit the vessel or risk being forced back to their own time by the powers that be - often torn apart by the grinding mill of time travel. Even gods may not be spared.
Persona: Despite being a god of the dead, the Ferryman is far from dreary. After all, one can’t be wearing a sullen mug when everyone’s dying to meet you! As death gets the reputation it gets, the Ferryman makes great efforts to ensure that the passing into the afterlife becomes an interesting - if not fun - journey for all parties. He, she, they are quick with a joke and even more interested in hearing the stories of the many dead - as well as sharing stories they’ve picked up along the route.
Alone, of course, the Ferryman understands that life is not all sunshine and rainbows. He, she, they take time to sit quietly on the eternal sea of existence, contemplating the meaning of life, death and everything in between. They fashion themself somewhat of a philosopher, and will gladly sit for hours discussing.
Raff had done it. He had sworn he had done it. It, it had been right there in his hand, right? He, he had surely felt it being there, then in his neck pouch. The earl’s ring! He had had the earl’s ring - he had seen it; he had felt it; for crying out loud, he had even smelt the sweaty gold stink coming off of it! So why… Why hadn’t he had it when he was supposed to turn it over to Hawaldr? What had gone so wrong?!
Slowly, the boy felt a strange cold squeeze at his extremities. The pooling blood underneath his run-through torso began to seep between the planks on the floor. Above him, he saw the giant of a man, Hawaldr, the earl’s disinherited brother, wiped clean his sword with a sorry, deflated woolen cap - Raff’s cap. His muscles twitched briefly and he tried to say something - a bloody ball of phlegm was all he could muster. He heard some response from Hawaldr, but his ears felt numb and stuffed - all he heard was a rumbling voice that slowly, yet faster and faster, ebbed out into nothingness. His vision blurred over; he lost control of his limbs, his tongue, his neck. Whatever nerves still lived reported a pressure point coming from the shoulder area - Hawaldr had surely kicked him. Yet Raff could do nothing to retaliate. The last sparks of life faded from his eyes and so did the breath from his lungs. Raff, son of Rudol, was dead.
Just as the fact of death was established, something else was born. Or, well, to say that it was born would be to gloss over its already seventeen year long existence. It was just that now, upon its second birth (perhaps a better term), the soul of Raff had to go on without a body. Only, he hadn’t realised this just yet. The vengeful emotions within the boy boiled over and in a burst of rage, he pushed himself to his feet and stabbed a finger in Hawaldr’s direction.
“THIS IS UNFAIR! I HAD IT IN MY HAND! I SWEAR IT!”
Hawaldr did not reply. In fact, he slowly turned away and mumbled to one of his cronies, “Get rid of him… And have Kraca bring a mop!”
Raff blinked ethereally. “H-hey!”
“Woof! Rough day, huh?”
Raff spun around and beheld a man (or possibly woman, or maybe something in between - its voice gave no clues) leaning over a boathead snaking upwards. Raff followed the humanoid’s puzzlingly featureless (yet also fairly featurefull) face down along a pair of gowned shoulders leading to two slinky arms, fingers interlaced on the tall wooden head of a small dory with an equally long tail. Raff took a moment to rub his eyes as he noticed that, within the warm, cushy longhouse of Hawaldr’s farm, there was now an iridescent river flowing in from nowhere and out into nowhere. Upon this river rested the little boat and its grinning master. The Ferryman shot a glance down and clicked its figurative tongue.
“The ol’ belly shank, huh? Not the best way to go. Usually pretty slow, but you got lucky - he cut into your liver, so you bled out pretty quickly.” There was a small pause. “Hey, look on the bright side - at least he didn’t stab you in the back!”
“B-bled out, wha–?” Raff cast a look down, then slightly sideways to follow his corpse-prison with his gaze as it was being dragged away, leaving a trail of red behind it. He heard Hawaldr yell furiously: “No-no-no! Did your mothers drop you on your heads?! You’re getting blood all over my floor!” Raff felt another sting of rage and clenched his incorporeal fists hard.
“Damn, what an ass, huh?” the Ferryman added supportively.
“I had it. I had the ring. How, why was it not in my pouch?” He patted at the spiritual representation of his clothing and grabbed his pouch. With a deft squeeze, it gaped and revealed its contents - a copper coin and some pretty shells, but nothing else. “Why?!”
The Ferryman shrugged. “Couldn’t say, mister. I usually only show up a minute or two before a passing - must’a lost it before that.”
Raff paced around briefly. “The, the mud pools! The mud pools under the earl’s fence! I had to crawl through to escape the fort and, and…” He grit his teeth and kicked at a nearby chair - his incorporeal leg phased right through. “Damn it!”
The Ferryman’s grin faded somewhat and she rubbed her cheekbone slightly. “Well, if it’s any consolation, mister, I picked up his cousin a few years back, and he had gotten the axe merely for spilling water on this guy in the presence of the earl. To put it bluntly, he’s not the forgiving type.”
Raff deflated. “How is that any consolation at all?”
The Ferryman shrugged. “I guess we can establish that it wasn’t personal?”
“Just… I don’t need to be consoled right now. This is it. My life is over…”
The Ferryman’s grin returned in full and they sat down in the boat with a small chuckle. Raff spun angrily. “What, are you laughing at me?!”
“Oh, oh no, mister!” the Ferryman replied gleefully. “It’s just that your life, well, it’s only just begun.”
Raff blinked and walked towards the boat. “Y-yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” said the Ferryman with a nod. “Consider that whole “living” business the trial package; now the real thing starts.”
Raff swallowed and took a nervous step into the boat. He hadn’t been much of a sailor in his living days, but oddly enough, this little dory felt steadier and safer than the largest longship he had ever been in. He made himself comfortable and the Ferryman gripped a long stick from inside the vessel and stuck it in the (for the lack of a better term) river. The scene of Hawaldr’s house quickly faded into nothing as the boat phased through the wall and soared into the heavens, sailing the ether of souls. Raff sat agape and took in the sights of the world below.
“By the gods…”
“Yeah, it’s a sight, isn’t it? Doesn’t get much better than this.”
Raff swallowed again and sheepishly tucked his hands between his legs as he looked down at the floor. “So… What’s our destination?”
The Ferryman hummed in thought. “Well, I hate to break it to ya, mister, but we’re going to Aldion.”
“ALDION?!” Raff squealed in fear.
“Y-you’re sure it’s, it’s Him, right?” Raff mimicked horns on his head with his fingers.
For a brief moment, Raff sat still in shock. Then, with the vigour of a spooked rabbit, he shot up and tried to jump ship. However, before the Ferryman could warn him, the ghost hit the invisible wall at the vessel’s edge and bounced back dazed into his seat. The Ferryman sighed.
“Are you okay, mister?”
Raff quickly regained his senses and pushed himself to a stand once again. “Why?! Why am I being sent to Hell?! Explain it to me - WHY?!”
The Ferryman pursed his lips and pulled out a small scroll from the inside of his gown. “Let’s see here, Raff Rudolson… Well, I’m happy to tell you that your atonement, Mr. Rudolson, will likely be a short one. Theft, while a crime, is not at the top of Aldion’s naughty list. You should be out of there in no time– oh… Oh, oh, wait, wait, wait… Brokeoathto… Huh… Uh-huh…”
Raff furrowed his brow. “What? What?! Spit it out, man - am I just dropping by or…?”
The Ferryman frowned sympathetically and flipped the scroll so he could read it. “Yeah, no - see, your theft was at the top there, so I read that first - my bad. Says here, though, that you’ve been in the earl’s service for a good while - your whole life, it seems. Your father was a huscarl, right?”
Raff rolled his eyes. “More of a steward, that old geezer, but yeah…”
“Mhm, making you a serviceman by blood - you were a servant at court too, no?”
“I guess. Why?”
The Ferryman tapped the sentence under. “Looks here like you swore an oath of service to him at some point. Last year, was it? Stealing from your master, well… Aldion might not care all that much about theft, but breach of loyalty - hoo boy…”
What colour remained in Raff’s face drained. The Ferryman re-furled the scroll and put it back inside her gown. A half hour passed without a word before Raff whispered, “I… I thought I would have time to make up for it…”
“Mhm. Lotta mortals seem to think that way.”
“It… It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”
“It never is, is it?”
Another pause, this one shorter. The Ferryman eventually offered Raff a smile and said, “Actually, I had this other passenger whose story reminds me a lot of yours!”
“Please, I appreciate it, but…”
“No, no, no, you’ll love it. Now this guy, hoo boy… See, about a century back…”
The Hanged One. An allegorical aspect representing the journeys of those that have become trapped by the lack of transcending their lies and limitations - those that have betrayed themselves. Continual defeat and catastrophe leads to the feeling of suffocation, like a noose around the neck, choking the fire of life until it is eventually extinguished. Suffering in stagnation cannot be cured aside from the act of being hanged, and so the symbol of Desire is herself as she slowly walks towards that which will heal her. The Aspect of the Hanged One commonly depicts this macabre march towards sacrificing the self and surrendering to the liberating touch of strangulation, though this is only one version of this Aspect.
To suspend the self requires strength to resist the influence of the cosmos and endure mystical isolation. Desire can cut the connections between the material and the otherworldly, severing the ethereal elements that construct sacred change such as communication, imagination and perception. Her presence brings solitude and grants her an aura that blinds others to the world around them, enforcing those afflicted into embracing suffering and strife until the only salve to all of the agony is complete suspension - to be hanged. Only afterwards shall solace be had and all, including herself, may ascend further. However Desire refuses to invert her perspective, to comprehend the glimpses that the aspect of the Hanged One offers by altering her position, and thus she is both the epitome and opposite of the Hanged One.
As wielder of this Aspect, Desire discovers the prevalence of every step leading towards her hanging, and the act of hanging itself. She can command strength and sight in mortals close to her, guiding them towards blessed asphyxiation by halting the vigorous song and dance of the cosmos. Separating the material and ethereal allows to her lead mortals away from annihilation and corruption, but prevents progress on the Sacred Path described by her mother, which Desire does not actually follow herself. Instead Desire will indulge herself in the defiant cage that she creates and protect the sanctity of life with her own way of attaining serenity, while still struggling just to breath.
She is selfish, and that is an aspect of herself that she embraced, for Desire did not bother to concern herself with that which would not bring her pleasure or benefit her somehow. Neither consistently cruel or benevolent; she knowingly considers herself capricious, changing her attitude and behavior frequently, yet unyielding when coerced by others - it is often very difficult to predict how she will react in various scenarios, which is a factor she enjoys very much. It is solely her love for her family that remains always the same, another aspect of herself that she has accepted with paradoxical feelings which often contradict her way of life.
She is the youngest daughter and simulacrum of Anath Homura, but senses the influence of another within her heart causing her to realize that there is a piece of her family that is missing from her life. She has discerned that she differs from her sisters, as her divine heritage is split between two as opposed to coming only from her mother, resulting in a growing distance with her kin as she seeks to uncover who she truly is, and what it means to be divine. There is a yearning to set out on a journey within her, a yearning that she cannot deny herself.
Desire ever prominently expresses her emotions in every encounter: She would bite her tongue until it bled, when seething with rage. She would swiftly leap and laugh displaying an abundance of vigor, when brimming with euphoria. She would tremble and her eyes would be wet with profuse tears shimmering with sorrow, when overwhelmed with heartache. She commonly conveys her craving to experience both the mundane and the exotic elements of the world, peering at her surroundings with an inquisitive eye.
Aspect: Ice - Ice, the frozen element that to some, can be seen as weak. Especially to heat and fire. Melting away to harmless water. But, ice is more than its weakness. From tjr smallest chunk of ice to the towering glaciers. It can be strong, enduring, and sometimes hiding something beneath the surface. For even icebergs do not show their true size to the wandering eye. Do not fear the man with the hot firey anger but the one with the ice cold calculating anger. As those are the ones that will use their anger to its greatest effect.
Persona: On the outside, Ravdur can be seen as cold, distant, and unforgiving. Which he can easily, especially to those he dislikes But, this is the impression he gives off. Ravdur while stoic and most of the time, does not show emotion. He does have a kinder side to him. Compassionate and willing to help guide others that need it. Ravdur has a code of honor that he follows, and rarely does he break it. Despite his appearance, Ravdur is not easily influenced into fighting or has a bloodlust. While he does consider himself a warrior, Ravdur instead choices to pick his battles and use a weapon when he needs to. While following his code and tends to look down on those that violate said code.
Aspect: Seele is the personification of Pride, in all its terrors and all its glories. Seele does not display Pride as wanton pettiness for insignificant slights, for to admit that someone can easily tarnish your Pride would be to showcase its fragility. She cares little for the insults of others, and frequently finds their attempts as amusing as they are pathetic. Seele takes Pride in much of her abilities and power, but more than anything, she takes Pride in her patience. She is not an omnipotent being, this much she knows, but those who dare to boast their power or make overtures of superiority simply play into her hands- for her all-devouring Pride see's the power of others and refines it to more suitably fit a more perfect master. Many skills and powers Seele possesses seem unusual, but they are the simple result of pompous individuals attempting to eclipse her infinite Pride. If you boast your superior knowledge of magic, you will soon find yourself second to her. Display the capacity for a hundred bullseyes blindfolded with a bow, and she shall display to you a hundred and one. Proclaim yourself the greatest swordsman of all, and suddenly find your blade can find no purchase against her divine swordsmanship. Usurping the power of a god is no simple task, nor one lightly undertaken, but all those gods who go before the Sovereign of Pride know to tread lightly, for who would wish to risk that the ever-hungry spider might consume that as well?
Seele makes no claims to omnipotence for she knows she does not need it. The universe contains everything there is to obtain, and the universe shall bring to her what she requires, for the Sovereign of Pride is all she needs to be when she needs to be.
Persona: Seele is neither Good nor Evil. She's often seen as universally selfish, but in truth, she's simply whimsical. She loves and hates freely, shares and takes without regret, and can take Pride in others deeds as much as she can her own(or close to it, at least). Her initial origin was from arachnids, or so she claims, and her numberless children see their Sovereign as their one true master. She is a mother, a teacher, a terror, a calamity, a messiah, she is whatever she wishes to be. The one thing she refuses to be- is bored.
When one falls into the mud in pain and defeat, those who find the strength to look up just might find Seele standing above them, smiling down at them. For Pride is above the qualms of Good and Evil. Pride is about value, and can only find meaning when a spark of it burns in your own heart.
And Seele's favored children and chosen find their Pride as the source of strength they so often desperately need.
Personality wise, she can often surprise many who visit her. While she is capable of grandiose and extravagant mannerisms, it's not uncommon to find her remarkably reticent. Sometimes she is simply not in the mood to be overtly social with others, to the point that she could be described as quiet and soft-spoken, as well as easily distracted by other tasks. It is unclear precisely what causes these episodes of seeming social fatigue, but it is the time she is safest and most dangerous to be around. Those who are polite and respectful find her easier to talk to, but those who annoy her with rudeness or disrespect can find her fatigue translates into impatience, dismissing you from her presence or even growing violent if she begins to interpret defiance as a declaration of hostility.
But one thing is for certain in the enigmatic figure that is the Sovereign of Pride- those who are her allies find her a stalwart companion, and those who are her enemy soon find that their own Pride becomes their downfall.
Myth: Seele leaned back in her throne as she watched events unfold within her domain. Many brave, bold, foolhardy fellows had descended into the deep darkness that lied beneath the ground, all for their own reasons. Their numbers had been many once, but it was not long before their numbers had dwindled, most due to cowardice. It had been a disappointing show at first, watching their numbers rapidly shrink, none showing themselves worthy of attention. Except one.
One remained, and even as she was awash with visible terror, she did not turn around. She ventured further and further into the darkness, a lantern and a dagger all that she had to preserve herself within the caverns, tunnels, and caves that contained so many of her children. She did not stop, even as she began to see the thousands of glowing eyes in the darkness watching her, waiting, pondering.
Her gritted teeth was the preamble to her running; a foolish decision, but it was one not born of fear, but defiance. Well, perhaps a little fear based on the tears running down her face. But she ran forward.
It was a shame that there was a cliff there.
Seele watched as the young woman exited the tunnel and soon found herself in thin air, running off the edge of a cliff without even realizing it. She tumbled down the rockface, bouncing several times before landing with a sickening crunch.
Seele watched as the young woman, barely alive, began to push herself up, but quickly screamed as she fell back down- she wouldn't be going anywhere with those shattered legs. The goddess leaned forward as she watched curiously- as the girl began to crawl. Her lantern in pieces and her dagger lost, she crawled toward nowhere, but her expression...
So defiant. So consumed by willful stubbornness.
"I... won't lose. I'll... show them all."
Seele found her lips curl up at those words as the girl snarled them out. She did not know what had brought this mortal down here, what legends she was chasing- not yet.
The girl began to scream as Seele raised her hand, looking into her palm where a tiny image of the girl laid. She tugged at the girls legs, humming as she worked, listening for prayers for mercy or weakness, but as she expected, she heard none. She heard only curses of pain, the slamming of first against stone and the swiping of her hands at an 'attacker' she could not see.
Soon enough, her work was done. She watched as the woman panted, the pain gone, only exhaustion remaining. The girl opened her eyes, blinking as she now saw in the darkness as she could not before. She attempted to rise from the ground and found the task easier than she expected. Her eyes drifted down at the gift Seele had bestowed upon her- her weak and broken legs no more, replaced by the lower half of a spider, eight strong armored legs and the abdomen fitting an arachnid.
She stared only in disbelief for a moment before her eyes drifted up, for only now did Seele allow her to see- that she was standing in the palm of the goddess hands, a goddess whose perceived size dwarfed her by a magnitude beyond comprehension.
The goddess' smile broadened as she stared down at her new adherent.
"I do believe I like you. Tell me..."
Seele raised her hand to be more level with her face, her eye far larger than the half-spider girl.