Letters from the Duke of Zhou 1 - The Tale of Chu and Ba
To the respected duke of the Song warrens,
Allow me first to express my most gracious greeting to a fellow, worthy duke - many difficulties plague our lands and lives, so pleasures such as these are too few and too far in between. It has come to my attention that the lightfurs of the Lower Warrens under Your esteemed leadership have grown rowdy and rebellious of late, yet nothing your peacekeepers do seems to mend the situation. As such, our mutual friend, the venerable duke of Qin, made contact with me on your behalf so I may offer my counsel in this matter.
It is in times like these that I remember what happened in the warrens of Chu and Ba. As I’m certain you know, the warren of Chu once had a wealthy gentleman named Sima Wen, and he was beloved by all of Chu. Likewise, the warren of Ba had a virtuous huntress named Zeng Yun, and she, too, was beloved in all of Ba. The day then came when the warrens of Chu and Ba both fell into unrest, darkfurs and lightfurs, warrens high and low - all in a great rumble. So the lords of Chu sent word to Sima Wen, while the lords of Ba sent word to Zeng Yun. Sima Wen and Zeng Yun were both tasked with bringing peace to the Warrens, for theirs was great love and respect among the people; however, Sima Wen could only convince the high warrens to settle down, while Zeng Yun only calmed the low warrens. Thusly fell the great warrens of Chu and Ba into decline.
For you see, respected duke - the wealthy gentleman Sima Wen, while beloved in all the warrens shafts and tunnels, knew not the squalls and hardships of the lightfurs, and thus could not relate to them; likewise, while the virtuous huntress Zeng Yun was beloved in all the warren’s caves and holes, she knew not the rituals and customs of the darkfurs, and thus could not speak to them. The lesson we as scholar-gentlemen - as proper junzi - must take away from stories such as these, is that we cannot expect those of great fame and renown to simply bypass our societal customs. In order to reach out to our warrenmen - all of them - we cannot rely on status alone; a leader with titles and no charisma cannot even lead the bees to nectar.
My proposal to you, respected duke, is therefore to recall your peacekeepers - funnel instead your resources into understanding and learning from your lightfurs. Gain their trust, their respect, their love, but make certain that you do not lose the support of your darkfurs in the process. Do this, and the warrens of Song will no doubt last longer than any hare can live.
I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours, and may the gods forever grant you fortune.
With great respect,
Duke Kong Rui of Zhou.
Kong Rui the rabbit duke offers advice to the duke of Song, telling him that if he can get to know his peasants better, they won’t rebel as badly.
“No, no, no - you have to hold it in, my man. Come on.”
Twilight held his breath, the smoke burning like embers in his throat. Eventually, he couldn’t bear it anymore and coughed it back out. Oscar the thumbling laughed so hard he nearly fell off the flycap he sat on. “Oh, you’re such a sissy, Twi!”
”Easy for you to say! Your pipe’s so small!” replied the man coarse as he pounded his chest with his fist. The thumbling eyed its own pipe, fashioned from a tree splinter, then the long, curved, carven masterpiece which Twilight had seemingly conjured out of thin air. He gave a little shrug and repositioned himself on the flycap as he took another drag.
“I’d say they’re about proportional,” he conceded. Twilight smacked his lips to taste the smoke, bobbing his head from side to side to demonstrate his opinion.
”It’s decent, though. Where’d you say this pipeweed came from?” With a divine finger, he poked out a smouldering bit of grass and eyed it carefully. Oscar sucked thoughtfully on a tooth.
“Plucked it over by berry farmer Larson’s stead. He keeps a patch for when the nights get long and the kids get rowdy, y’know.” He gave the pipe a few smacking sucks and unleashed a plume of smoke the size of his head - or roughly the size of Twilight’s pinky nail.
”Y’don’t say… Any idea who made this?” Twilight mumbled and gave it a sniff in search of divine origin. It smelled, unsurprisingly, of smouldering grass. Oscar shrugged.
“Couldn’t say. Always been, from what I’ve heard.”
”That right…” Twilight mused and clapped his teeth passively over the mouthpiece of his long pipe. A snicker suddenly overtook him. ”Hope you didn’t snatch all of farmer Larson’s grass just for me, now.” Oscar waved a dismissive hand.
“I’m sure he’s got enough. Man smokes like a chimney, so he keeps a stash. Besides, I reckon he’d have no issue sharing with a kind-hearted vagabond. It’s not like we get a lot of strangers passing by.” He gave off a light-hearted chuckle. “Ain’t often people see our humble village for more than hollow stumps and mushrooms.”
Twilight sighed softly. ”Life here’s pretty peaceful, huh?” Oscar puffed out a series of tiny smoke rings that could’ve easily been mistaken for snowflakes defying gravity.
“By Saint Adrian, it’s downright idyllic,” he agreed, pulling the rim of his round straw hat down over his eyes to meet the setting sun. He tapped his tree splinter pipe on the cap of the flycap to dump out the ashes before he started squeezing in a new bowlful. Twilight, meanwhile, was getting used to the soft burn in his lungs, and though the effect of the plant was much too weak to affect him considerably, there was something comforting about a hobby like this. Something to share with others. A moment of silence followed, during which the only sounds where inhales, lip smacking and heavy exhales. Eventually, though, Oscar gave the horizon a squint and asked, “So, where you headin’ off to, anyway? Heard you’ve been talking with ol’ Dick about packing up.”
”Oh, y’know…” Twilight clicked his tongue. ”Got places to see, people to meet… World’s a lot bigger than the horizon, after all - and I’m planning on seeing it all.”
“Heh, is that right? You tall folk sure don’t let nothin’ stop ya, that’s for sure.” Oscar offered him a grin with his pipe firmly held between his jaws. Twilight returned the expression.
”I take it your kind’s not the adventuring sort?”
“Oh, now, quite the contrary, mister.” Oscar raised an objecting finger. “Thumblings are pretty well-traveled if I may say so.” Twilight snickered, but Oscar nodded still. “It’s true! Why, my uncle Roger over in Mossheap spent his youth hiking the continent around - in true Adriannic fashion, mind you! He was no quitter - no, siree. Didn’t lose his grip once, he didn’t. Whether it was elk or a pant leg, he held on like it was about life and death.”
”Your kind sure holds this ‘Saint Adrian’ in high regard, huh,” remarked Twilight with another suck of his pipe.
“How could we not? The man’s a legend. Stories say he rode the moon across the seas and all the way into history. Fought a fully grown askeladd with nothin’ but a pine needle, they say. Every Thumbling knows about that crazy sumbitch.” A plume of smoke punctuated his sentence.
Twilight blew his own plume through pursed lips. ”Rode the moon, huh…” He sucked a deep breath through the nose and knocked the ashes out of his pipe bowl into a nearby patch of swampy, moist moss. ”Adventure ain’t nothing for you, though, huh?”
“Nah. My uncle’s the exception in my family, I’ll be honest - sure, we’re mighty proud of him, but… Us Bumbledrums,” he sucked on a tooth, “we ain’t need nothin’ more than a full belly and a warm hut to come home to after a day in the berry bushes.”
”Yeah, I understand.” With that, Twilight deposited his pipe on the inside of his belt, which was a length of rope simply tied about his waist, clapped his hands over his knees and rose up, stretching his hands over his head. ”Well, I think it’s about time I got back on the road.”
Oscar pushed the rim of his hat upwards a little with the mouthpiece of his pipe to eye the horizon. “Y’sure you wanna be travelling at night, friend? It’s not like that spot you’ve been sleeping in’ll disappear any time soon.”
Twilight pressed his palms into his lower back and bent backwards. ”Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I feel more at home in the night than I do in the day, I’ll be honest. But hey, thanks for letting me stay as long as ya did. Hope I didn’t, uh, eat -all- the berries in your stock.” Once more, Oscar waved dismissively.
“Oh, sure, you might eat for ten thumblings, but it ain’t like we’re starving.” He took off his hat and turned to Twilight with a smile. “You’ll have a good one now, Twi. Don’t be a stranger if you pass by lil’ ol’ Marshstead, now. I’ll tell Lotty to make ya a houllin pie when you get back.”
”Heh, that’d be great, Oscar. You stay out of trouble now.”
“Likewise,” replied Oscar with a tip of his hat. Twilight returned the gesture with a nod and moved eastward through the marshes. He moved ceaselessly through the whole night, except to stop and eat some houllin berries he’d brought along with him. He took his time crossing the swamplands, taking in the sights, smells and textures of the bog with gusto. He hadn’t felt anything in his sleep, but the only truth he knew now was how great it felt to be awake. The coolness of the murky water, the harshness of the air’s scent, the heaps and dips of moss and muck - this place was alive. Twilight adopted a little frog one day, keeping it on his shoulder for a good hour before it skipped off and disappeared into a large puddle. The avatar hadn’t even been sad nor angry - life was blossoming here, even in such dull-looking wetlands. The world of the gods sure was magnificent - and now -he- had that same power.
One night, a certain song overruled the squelshes and squashes of his steps in the boggy terrain. Twilight found himself entranced by its tunes, and he had to investigate closer. The voice was deep and baritone, siren-like in its attractiveness. As Twilight drew closer, the melody was complemented by the rhythm of the ocean waves. The sea came into view across the marshland meadow, reflecting as it was in the moons’ light. There, by a small fire, Twilight saw a colossal shadow dancing beside it. Its every step shook the earth, but there was nothing menacing about it - if anything, it was beautiful.
As I went down to the ocean to pray, Studyin’ about them good, ol’ ways ‘n who shall wear That moonlit crown. O love, show me the way.
Oooh, lovelies, Let’s go down, let’s go down, c’mon down. Oooh, lovelies, Let’s go down, down to the ocean to pray.
As I went down to the ocean to pray, Studyin’ about them good, ol’ ways ‘n who shall wear That starry crown. O love, show me the way.
Oooh, my wife, Let’s go down, let’s go down, c’mon down. Oooh, wifey, Let’s go down, down to the ocean to pray.
As I went down to the ocean to pray...
Twilight was smitten. He had never heard such music before - literally. It was as though his every sense focused sucked on the creature’s every note. He couldn’t help but be drawn closer and closer - he had to know what manner of creature was making this music. His feet felt the transition from sticky moss to cool sand, and the creature’s tremors reverberated through his bones. There was a foul smell on the air, souring the experience somewhat - Twilight surmised it had to be the rotting seaweed on the beach. As he reached a distance of merely three metres from him, he let out a sigh and said, ”You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.
The dancing giant stopped and turned, revealing a hollow-eyed, sinister grin as though made by a terrible amalgam of fish and man. Its skin sagged as though it had once been melting off its face and stiffened midway, and its teeth were vile and crooked. With a grateful nod, it spoke, “Why, thanks a bunch, mate. That’s awful kind o’ you.”
Twilight felt his heart nearly stop from the sight and he tossed himself down in the sand, burying his face in between the dunes in an effort to forget what he had just seen. Into the ground he screamed, ”BY THE GODS, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOUR FACE?!”
The giant blinked and patted its face. “Oh, scentin’ seawaves! ‘Ang on, mate, pardon that.” There came some rustling from behind Twilight and the avatar allowed himself to sneak a peek of what was happening. The giant was facing away, looking to be digging through a large pack until it found a circular, shadowed object, which it put on its face. “A’roight, should be good!” The giant turned back and sat down, its face now covered by a large, white mask with two eye-holes, as well as a smiling mouth drawn on it with charcoal. “Again, sorrey ‘bout that. Wuz singin’ to my wife ‘n, y’know, she likes me better withou’ the mask, if ye catch my drift.”
Twilight gulped and clutched his chest instinctively as he turned back to face the giant head on. The shock within him had yet to subside, but at least it wasn’t reinforced now by a second exposure to that… That face. He was certain it would’ve killed him. The giant looked expectantly at him. “Must say, you’re farin’ much better than other ‘umies I’ve run into wivvout the mask. Most, uhm… Well… Must keel roight on ova’, to be honest. Hurts me to the bone, it does, but gods demanded I look like this, ‘n… Y’know… S’long’s wifey is happy, so am I.”
Twilight conjured forth a lemon and contemplated squeezing it into his eyes. ”Who exactly demanded you look like this?” he replied sourly.
“Why, that’d be Lady Moon, of course,” the giant replied faithfully. “I’m a troll, after all.”
Twilight curled tightly his fists. That useless goddess!
“Not bitter about it, though!” added the troll, as thought it could sense what Twilight was thinking. The avatar blinked curiously at it and the troll nodded. “That’s roight. Oh, sure, every now ‘n then, it really isn’t pleasant to scare people to deaff, but you eventually learn to git aroun’ that, y’know?” He pointed to his mask. “Wearin’ this makes it pretty nice to interact wiff people, actually. Some’re nicer than ovva’s, of course - ‘umies tend to be pretty bitter against my kind. Not wivvout reason, of course - my kinsmen’ve done some mean fhings. Makes me curious, though - why ‘aven’t you run for the hills yet? ‘Umies usually do.”
”That so?” replied Twilight somewhat sarcastically. The troll didn’t react much, though. The man cupped his face in a propped up hand and sighed. ”Well, let’s just say I’m not like most other humans.”
The troll nodded sagely. “Yeah, that’s about roight. Seen many ‘umies fall over like you did, but very few get back up. Whot’s your secret? Might be nice to share with the rest of my kinsmen.”
Twilight frowned as he contemplated his reply. As he did so, he pulled out his pipe and patted some of the pipeweed he brought along for the journey into the bowl. “It’s, uh… It’s -this-!” He held up the pipe. “This, uh, grass keeps me calm and focused.” The troll leaned down and eyed it thoroughly.
“Ain’t that somefhin’... Where’d you get that?”
Twilight thumbed westward. “The grass is from the bog. The pipe, I made myself. I could show you how, if you’d like.”
The troll smiled even behind the mask. “Why, I’d be ‘appy to learn!”
And so, Twilight and the troll sat down together - Twilight with a knife and a small log; the troll with a flat boulder and a tree trunk - and got to whittling. They whittled together for a day or two, moving back and forth between the beach and the troll’s cave in the night and day respectively. They shared stories and jokes, and the troll, who Twilight learned had been honoured with the name Tidemand, explained to Twilight the nature of his kin and why he would spend every night singing for his wife to come back to him.
“See… Draug wives, they like the seas a bit better than us lads. They go swimming for long periods of the years, or they move way, far away down the beach. Only way to guide ‘em home is to sing to ‘em.”
”Has it worked?”
Tidemand’s gaze had lowered somewhat at this. “My wife’s gone for a long swim this year… I pray to the gods every day that all is well wiv’ ‘er.” This left Twilight with a clump in his chest.
After four days, their projects were completed: Twilight had carved himself a wholly new pipe, this time from scratch, and Tidemand had fashioned himself a similar craft, only that it was longer than Twilight was tall. The avatar had conjured forth some pipeweed, pretending he’d harvested it himself, and the two had spent the fifth night admiring the sea to the sound of smouldering grass and exhaled smoke. Tidemand had carved a small hole in his mask for the mouth piece to slip through. After days of conversation and banter, they sat in complete silence, enjoying each other’s company.
”Say, Tidemand?” Twilight suddenly mumbled.
“Hmm?”
”I, uh… I heard you singing to the seagulls earlier. I mean, you know I always love hearing you sing, but… Are you doing alright?”
The troll gave him a curious frown, then burst out into a guffaw. Twilight was a little taken aback. ”Woah, hey, I’m just asking!”
Tidemand sniffed and wiped a tear away from underneath his mask. “Oh, Twilight, forgive my laughin’, but… ‘Aven’t you ever ‘eard of the Worldsong?”
Twilight frowned. “The what-song? Is this a troll thing?”
Tidemand chuckled again. “No, friend, it’s the gift o’ Macsal to the world! I can’t say I’m an expert at it, but, well… It helps with keepin’ the gulls out of my food.” With that, he started rumbling in his baritone voice, a fantastic hum that seemed to calm the oceans and the winds. Twilight watched in awe as seemingly godly feats slowed down the natural forces as though they were sung a lullaby for. Then he heard it, ever so faintly, a million small voices singing back. He looked around searchingly and Tidemand nodded sagely.
“Ah, it’d seem you, too, have the gift of spiritsong.”
”The gift of what?”
“Of spiritsong! Macsal’s gift’a music to all fhings, from rocks te birds. Takes some time t’ learn how te sing back, but… I’ve found that listenin’ in on it really takes the sorrow out of bein’ alone on this beach in the night.”
Twilight eyed the sand ponderously as he took in the words, as well as the seemingly omnidirectional music coming from everything from the ground underneath him to the clouds above. It carried with it the emotions of everything - every part of Galbar, divine and mundane. It truly was a world song.
”Could you… Could you teach it to me, Tidemand?”
The troll sighed. “No, my good friend. That, I can’t.”
”Wait, why?”
He shrugged. “‘Cuz I ‘ave no idea how! It’s a miracle that you can even ‘ear it after such a short exposure! My, you really are an oddball as far as ‘umies go, huh…” When he saw Twilight’s disappointed expression, he tapped the part of his mask that covered his chin. “Well… I might not be able to, but… I know this ovva’ lass ‘cross the pond.”
”Across the pond? Is it your wife?”
“Nah, more like a cousin. She ain’t draug, though - she’s drighina - my kin, but still a bit different. Much closer to Macsal’s Worldsong than me. Veslemoy, is her name.”
Twilight pursed his lips. ”Which pond’re we talking about, by the way?”
Tidemand pointed at the sea before them. Twilight blinked. ”That’s it?” Tidemand nodded. ”I have to swim across the ocean?” Tidemand nodded.
“It ain’t small pond, I’ll admit, but if you want the experts, you’ll find ‘em on distant Kobasar. That’s whot the land’s called.” Tidemand dumped a bucket’s worth of pipeweed ashes out of his pipe and smacked his lips. “Give ‘er my best if you find ‘er, a’roight? Ain’t seen ‘er for a few years, so I hope all’s good wiv’er.”
Twilight emptied out his own pipe and stood up, stretching his back. ”I’ll have to cross that on my own?” Tidemand shrugged.
“Dunno. Are ‘umies good swimmers?”
”I mean… I might be,” Twilight proposed with a shrug of his own. As he waded into the sea, he turned to Tidemand and bowed respectfully. ”Hey, Tidemand. It, it really was a joy to spend time with ya.
“Likewise, Twilight. Make sure you don’t drown now, alright? Oh, and thanks for the pipe. I’ll make sure to teach this craft to everyone I meet.”
Twilight grinned back and then started swimming eastwards to Kubrajzar.
Twilight smokes weed with a thumbling, then goes east from the Weeping Plains to find a draug on the eastern Toraan shore. He nearly has a heart attack from seeing the ugly sumbitch, but then realises draugs are hella nice. They carve weed pipes together and smoke. The draug, named Tidemand, then teaches Twilight about Worldsong and tells him to seek out a drighina to learn more. Twilight then gets swimming towards Kubrajzar.
Gibbou/Twilight 5MP/3DP 1MP: Teach technology - Twilight teaches draugs to carve pipes and smoke pipeweed. This knowledge will likely spread all over the eastern coast of Toraan with draug migrations. Gibbou/Twilight 4MP/3DP
“Oh, bless you, Kaer Mirh, bless you! Oli, say thank you to the kind druid.”
A boy, barely aged seven by the looks of it, stared down at the leg which, merely minutes ago, had been thoroughly broken under the debris of a collapsed mud hut. Now, it was splinted and healing, thanks to the aid of the white-robed, middle-aged man kneeling beside him and his mother with a warm smile. “Th-thank you, Kaer Mirh,” he repeated after his mother and the druid nodded.
“Oh, it was nothing, my son - just make sure it won’t happen again, alright? Next time, I might not be around anymore,” the druid replied and stood up. The boy’s mother dusted off her son’s tunic and helped him to his feet, the boy wincing as he planted his sore foot on the ground.
“Oh, must you leave, kind druid? You’ve done so much for us here - the fruits have never been plumper; the grains, never been larger. We hardly know what we’ll do without your aid.” The rest of the villagers, who had been eyeing the druid’s craft in a circle around them, all nodded and voiced their agreement.
“Even the wolves don’t come for our goats in the night! How do you do it, kind druid? How?” Kaer Mirh turned to the crowd, brandishing his long branch of a walking stick, upon which crown began to grow small flowers and scented leaves. The crowd gasped in awe at the display and clapped. Kaer Mirh bowed humbly.
“My magic is given by divine mandate, villagers of Lallybroch - it is merely a trade for mortal piety. Remember to be true to the gods and the land - if you treat nature as you would treat your fellow man, the land will reward your compassion with bounties unlike that which you’ve ever seen. After all - that is all I did.” He pointed to a forest border just south of the village. “The wolves attack your sheep for many reasons, friend - primarily, perhaps, because the hunters in your village hunt their ancestral grounds free of game.” He tapped the shell of his ear. “I hear them singing about it in the night - how empty their bellies are; how their teeth miss the taste of deer like that which their parents are.”
“But, but we need the deer to survive!” came another voice. Kaer Mirh nodded slowly.
“Oh yes, oh yes, I can understand why you would think so - when winter comes, you fear your larders will empty, so you stock up as much as you can. But I have kept close watch over your larders this past week - much of what you harvest, goes to waste - and when it comes to waste, much is already too much.” He shrugged. “I have made a deal with the wolves: They will no longer harm your goats if your hunters stay out of their woods for the rest of the year. That will allow the deer to return and rebuild the balance.”
“W-wait, what?” That was a voice Kaer Mirh recognised: There came rumbling a large, perhaps slightly too wide, man with mighty blonde horseshoe mustache complementing an otherwise rather well-shaven face. It was chief Vraendol, and his face had taken on a terribly red colour. Kaer Mirh nodded his greetings.
“Good afternoon, chieftain - what, pray tell, has you--”
“Don’t play coy with me, druid - you mean to say you made a deal with, with animals without consulting us first?” he exclaimed with a fat finger thrusted in the druid’s face. Kaer Mirh nodded.
“Absolutely, chieftain. The -wolves- were quite satisfied with the arrangement, too.”
“Oh, I’m sure they were, I’m sure they were - and what will out hunters do then, hmm? What will become of us when winter comes and our larders are short on meats, huh? What then, druid?”
Kaer Mirh nodded his head from side to side in a lethargic manner. The crowd had slowly begun to move away from the druid and behind their chieftain, who crossed his arms sternly across his chest. Eventually, the druid shrugged. “If you killed a stag tomorrow and brought it to the village, its meat, even when dried, would not last until winter. The plants are still growing and ripening as though it was spring. However, that stag could prove vital for the wolfmothers so they last until this winter’s rut. Kill that stag, and the wolfmothers will take your goats instead, which, in my humble opinion, would bereave you of more than some dry meat shanks.” He turned to the hunters, whose earlier awed expressions had turned to bitter scowls. “Let the hunters work the fields or gather the woods’ bounty instead - the more you harvest, the more goats you can feed through the winter. I, for one, prefer milk over blood.”
“Hah! A milkdrinker, I see!” the chieftain taunted. The hunters snickered. “And what makes you think we’ll keep your little deal after you’ve moved on, hmm?”
“Oh, I’m certain the second I’m past the horizon, your hunters will be out there looking for the largest, fattest stag there ever was - and that’ll be your choice to do. Just keep in mind that the World Song can be heard by many more, and those who break oaths have more to fear than wolves in the night, my friend.”
“The oath isn’t ours to break,” the chieftain hissed back. Kaer Mirh sighed.
“Very well, good chieftain.” With that, the druid knelt down to retrieve his back of herbal remedies and equipment, which he had left on the ground after helping little Oli. He turned back to the villagers and bowed. “I thank you for your hospitality this week. May the Eight forever hold you in their favour.” With that, he turned away once more and set course northwards.
“Thank you so much for your help!” one of the children, little Oli, most likely, burst out. The chieftain could be heard scolding him, but only briefly before another, this one a girl, joined in: “Thanks, kind druid!” Before long, many of the villagers ignored their chieftain’s orders to pipe down, shouting their appreciation for the druid’s help. Kaer Mirh didn’t turn back, but under a long, greying brown beard, a smile shone through despite his neutral appearance.
Gibbou had taken a moment to leave Genesis with Oraelia while she strolled around the Antiquity for a moment. Its facades were cold and a little too bright for her liking, but at least there were plenty of corners and crevices where shade was plentiful. She would occasionally settle down by one of these corners, pondering the state of mortality below. That was when she heard it:
Sweetest Lady on the Moon, ‘Tis I, your admirer - I for none but you will swoon, For you, no love is higher
Source of lighting in the night, I reach with wanting in my heart. Insolent, my wish be might, My song, say sorry, will, for start.
Darkness hugs my every turn - I have no shelter yet. I rest tonight in moss and ferns - Can sleep be granted without threat?
Lady Moon, you are perfect, For you, my song’ll never end. Please, oh Gibbou, come protect This humble druid’s life, defend.
There was a pause in the song, through which Gibbou was uncertain of what had happened to the singer. She knew this voice well, for he had sung for her before - she conjured forth an image of the mortal, a white-robed man halfway through life, lying comfortably in the moss in the woods staring at the sky. Her heart jumped a little and she couldn’t help but smile - he looked so happy despite there being no roof above his head. From what she could see, his eyelids quickly grew heavier and heavier as he rolled onto his side.
Wond’rous Gibbou, be with me As I rest… I’ll...
The rest of the verse seemed to be snoring, but Gibbou had already heard what she needed. The joy of such pious mortals - mortals like this, well… She didn’t know his name, actually, but she knew most things about him regardless! The spitting image of the druid she had imagined all those years ago!
She had to tell someone - anyone! Mortals like him needed to be taken care of by the gods, so that they may spread and multiply! She saw a portal open itself in the distance and walked towards it.
As she stepped through the portal, she immediately found herself standing upon what seemed to be an island made out of clouds, floating in the midst of an endless blue sky. She was standing on a cobblestone path, which led to a rather large and imposing fortress of black stone.
“Gibbou? Is that you?” Cadien’s voice spoke in her head. Just then, the sky suddenly darkened, as if transitioning from day to dusk - although there was no sun to be seen. This was not her doing; it was almost as if Cadien was trying to make his realm more welcoming to her. “Come in, come in! I’m in the keep!”
The moon goddess admired the surroundings as she skipped along the cobblestone path until she reached the fortress gates, taking in the sights in the shadow of the dark sky with glee. “I love what you’ve done with the place!” she praised as she entered. She found herself standing in a grassy courtyard, the path continuing onward past two fountains of pure sparkling water, and leading into the fortress’s main building. She went over to one of the fountains and marveled at the fizziness of its water. “Is this mineral water?”
“Pure water,” Cadien answered in her mind. “The sparkling is purely a visual effect, meant to make it more pleasing to the eye.”
“Oh,” cooed Gibbou in a somewhat let-down manner. “Anyway, Cadien, I’ve caught something and I just -had- to tell somebody. See, there’s this druid…”
“A druid? I think I’ve heard that term before. Remind me, what are they?”
Gibbou stepped inside the palace, a cup of sparkling normal water in her hand. “Well, see, druidism is this type of magic my sister and I thought up to help mortals protect themselves without our help, and-- Oh, sister, what are these?!” She gaped and looked at the statues all around.
Standing in the hallway, on either side of the velvety purple carpet, were anatomically correct statues of every single one of Galbar’s species; one for each gender, and in its idealized form. All of them were anatomically correct, and none of them were clothed. The statue of the Female Night Elf in particular happened to look very similar to Gibbou. “Oh, those? I sculpted them over the years. What do you think?”
Gibbou approached the Night Elves and looked them up and down through her fingers, plum-like cheeks flushing in hiding. She cleared her through unnecessarily thoroughly and swallowed before answering. “Uh-uhm… They’re, uh… Wow.” She sniffed once and pinched the bridge of her nose. “They’re nice - really nice, ahem.”
“I’m glad you think so! Anyhow, I’m in the next room. Sorry for not coming out to meet you; I wanted to get an honest reaction to what I’ve done with the place.”
“It’s fine!” she replied with a cracking voice. She corrected herself: “It’s fine. I’ll be right there.” She moved into the other room while burbling bubbles into her cup timidly. The doors to the next room opened on their own accord, and led into a vast open chamber that was unfurnished saved for a marble throne at the very end, a golden chandelier on the ceiling, and several side doors leading off to different rooms.
Cadien was seated on the throne, though unlike any other time she saw him, this time he was actually clothed. He was a clad in a set of shining golden armour, with muscles engraved on the chestplate. Upon his brow sat a golden circlet studded with amethysts, and on his back was a vibrant violet cape, which matched the colour of eyes.
Cadien rose to his feet and clapped his gauntleted hands together. “So!” he said, as she stepped into the room. “What do you think of my new look?”
Gibbou squinted somewhat. “It’s bright. A, a nice shade of it, though - since, y’know, it’s shady out.” She prodded her fingers together. “It suits you.”
“Oh, I see,” Cadien said, as realization dawned. He snapped his fingers, and the gold turned to black. “Is that better?” Without awaiting a response, he stepped forward and waved his hand. Two comfortable-looking armchairs materialized in the center of the room. Cadien sat down on one, and waited for Gibbou to take her seat on the other, which she did.
Gibbou’s squint turned to a frown. “Don’t get me wrong, but black isn’t, isn’t really your colour. You’re so bright and, and, and awesome - gold’s more your thing, y’know.” She punctuated the sentence with the sheepish suck of a tooth. “Sssssooo… Right, druidism! You wanted a reminder?”
Cadien nodded, as his armour once more morphed back into its familiar gold. “Yes. I’ve heard about this form of magic before, but I don’t know the specifics. Could you tell me more?”
“Right, so - like I was saying before - it’s a form of magic that allows mortals to perform miracles in our names in return for their pious behaviour and the spreading of such behaviour to the masses. It’s unlocked using this horn that me and a bunch’a others made, called Hir, which, uh, must’a been circulating a lot around the world, for the druids are praying away like they’ve realised the gods are coming back.” She tapped her chin. “Actually, that’s exactly what I came to talk to you about - the most pious of the druids!”
“And who would that be?” Cadien raised an eyebrow.
“... Okay, so I might not know him by name, buuut he’s a great guy - just making life for mortalkind around Toraan so, so swell! That’s why - hear me out - that’s why I think we should give him our blessing; y’know, so he can gather like-minded druids and form some kind of organisation and spread that wonderous piety all throughout the land!”
“Really? What sort of blessing did you have in mind, then?”
“Something… Something that’ll help them stay on the road in peace. People often depend on these druids to come heal their wounded, treat their sick, help the crops. I feel like we ought to help them do that job to the best of their abilities. Let them sleep in peace at night so they can move further on the road the next day; give them perhaps an aura to ward off brigands and beasts seeking an easy meal? Hmm?” She winked at Cadien. “Something like a perfect smile?”
Cadien replied with just such a smile. “Mmm yes, I see. I’m not sure what a smile will do to deter cannibalistic brigands, but I suppose it won’t hurt. Mayhaps I could also increase their strength, or their stamina. There’s an idea.”
“Stamina, perhaps, so they at least can outrun threats. I’d rather not turn my precious druids into fighters, Cadien,” mumbled the moon goddess. “But, uh, yeah, sounds good?”
“Sure! You did tell me how to create that moon, so I suppose I do owe you something. Hmm… I never did get to ask your opinion on that purple moon, actually. Did you like it?”
“It’s, uh…” She hummed. “It reminds me of you. Really, uh, stands out in the night sky. Anyway,” she cleared her throat and brought up an image of the druid in question, who seemed to currently be journeying over a hill along with a colleague, a human woman dressed in the same white robes. “Shall we get to it?”
“Very well,” Cadien nodded. “You start, and I shall follow your example.”
Gibbou nodded and drew some bright circles in the air with moonlight, filling in the spaces between the circles with runes. “All druids who follow this man, wherever you may be on the world below…” In the image, the cloud cover seemed to darken over the pair, and the mortals looked around with puzzled expressions. “... I hereby name you the Circle of the Long Stride, and yours shall be a unit devoted to helping villages all throughout the land.” In the image, flashes indicated the presence of thunder. “You will found a moot to meet once every year - there, you will lay your routes for which villages you are to aid every season. Go out - spread the good words of druidism to every corner of Galbar. For this, no beast, brigand nor bereavement shall befall you after nightfall - your every evening shall pass without issue. This is my blessing to you, Circle of the Long Stride…” With that, Gibbou passed the circle on to Cadien.
Cadien accepted the circle with a nod. “To the Circle of the Long Stride,” he said, in a serious tone. “To help you carry out these duties, I, Cadien, give you a blessing. I give you the gift of endurance. You will tire less quickly whilst walking or running, and you will be more resistant to any sicknesses you encounter in your travels.” Then, Cadien’s lips curled into a grin. “I also bless you with perfect smiles. Never again shall your teeth rot or decay.”
“Oh, that’ll in handy!” Gibbou remarked and looked into the image. The mortals seemed to already be noticing the visible parts of their blessing, pointing at each other faces. Before long, they were both laying themselves down in the grass to praise the gods. Gibbou clapped her hands excitedly as the image disappeared. “Oh, they look so happy! Thank you so much, Cadien!”
“You’re quite welcome,” Cadien said with a nod. “Was there anything else you needed assistance with?”
“Oh, uh…” she drummed her chin thoughtfully. “Can’t, uh… Can’t think of anything at the moment. Oh! Did you manage to replicate my, uh, my soul thing?”
“I did,” Cadien nodded, as his smile widened. “My new… avatar, I decided to call it, is wandering Galbar as we speak. As is Qael’s, and Illyd’s. Iternis should be making one soon as well. In fact, as we speak they should already be in the process of informing everyone. You’ve done a great favour for us, Gibbou.”
“Oh, pssshhh. It was nothing! Just gotta ask - are yours, uh… They aren’t, y’know…” She paused. “They’re loyal, right?”
“Mine should be,” Cadien said. “Instead of binding the fragment of my soul to one mortal, I’ve decided to have it move. It changes hosts every few years. If one of these hosts turns against my purpose, it will eventually move on to someone else. Then there’s Illyd’s… he basically just made himself, so I doubt he’ll have too many troubles. I’m not sure about Qael’naath’s - I didn’t ask him for specific details. Anyhow, I have high hopes.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Better to try a lot of solutions! After all, mine, uh… Mine didn’t work so well--Anyway! It was really nice of you to help out, Cadien. Will I be seeing you around?” She started moving towards the doorway.
“You will,” Cadien confirmed, as he rose to his feet, walked past her, and held the door open for her. “As for your own avatar, Gibbou… I wouldn’t worry too much, if I was you. I think that, eventually, he’ll come to realize that your gift to him far outweighs whatever you took away. Maybe one day he’ll forgive you, or perhaps even be grateful.”
Gibbou stood in the doorway, back facing Cadien. She snickered quietly, but it had a cold politeness to it. “Heh, yeah… Doubt it. See ya around, though, Cades. Was nice hanging out.” With that, she made her way towards the realm’s exit portal.
A druid named Kaer Mirh helps people on Galbar, showing just how pious and awesome he is. Gibbou sees how awesome he is, so she goes to Cadien to tell him how awesome she thinks she is. Cadien agrees that this druid is awesome, and together they decide to make the druid and his colleagues on Toraan even more awesome by turning them into a holy order (deets in MP sum). They do so awesomely and then discuss avatars - Cadien says his turned out awesome. Then they part ways.
Gibbou: 5MP/5DP
2DP - Consecrate Holy Order The Circle of the Long Stride: A druidic circle primarily based in Northern Toraan. Druidic circles are sects of druidism that have been consecrated into an order. While Druidic circles gain prestige from its membres starring in posts, they must cannot spend said prestige outside of the Circle Moot, which takes place once a year. Receives the following title from Gibbou:
Nightveil II: Membres of this holy order can sleep throughout the night in peace without fear of anyone or anything harming them regardless of where they choose to rest.
Gibbou end: 5MP/3DP, ⅘ for Respite portfolio.
Cadien: 5MP/5DP
1DP - grant The Circle of the Long Stride the “Endurance I” title, giving them increased stamina while travelling, as well as slightly more resistance to disease.
1DP (discounted to 0 via Glamour Portfolio) - to grant The Circle of the Long Stride the “Shining Smiles I” title, giving them flawless dental hygeine.
He twisted barely, feeling as though a layer of dust trickled off of his face. A foul flavour that seemed to have built up for ages coated the inside of his mouth like a stroke of gasoline. His body felt stiff as if frozen or petrified. He tried to move his fingers, but the nerves leading up to his hands seemed about as groggy as he was. It took a full minute before he could properly flex his digits, and even that was an exaggerated description of the controlled twitch it was making.
“Hnng…” he wheezed again through parched vocal cords. He tried to open his eyes, but found they’d been sealed shut by aeons of dried tears. Once he could move his arms, he sent his hands to his eyes’ rescue and had them wipe away the salt and stone petrifying shut his eyes. That’s when he realised the dust he had felt earlier had not been a mistake - according to his hands, which albeit were still prickling with numbness, his face was indeed covered in a thick layer of dust.
This kicked his survival instincts into gear, and ancient organs pumped him full of hormones to wake the rest of the corpse-like body up. Soon, nearly blind eyes were surveying the surroundings hopelessly, seeing nothing but darkness. He tried to sit up, but his core muscles had yet to awaken.
How could this have happened?! Had he been buried alive? For what?! He couldn’t remember anything at all from--...
The adrenaline disappeared and he calmed down uncannily fast. Remember… That’s right. He couldn’t remember a thing. His breathing intensified and he tried to sit up, the sound of what could be anything from grains to many pounds of dust and soil rolling off on him and down on, what he surmised to be, a flat rock floor. Nothing - he could remember absolutely nothing - where he came from, what he was, who he was - all was blank. He patted himself down - his hair was greasy and stiff, but he had hair, at least. His clothing was thin and fibrous of texture, rank and foul of scent. It covered a surprisingly fit form - bipedal, symmetrical on both sides of the middle. His skin was surprisingly soft, if not a little coarse from the remains of dust and stone. He tested the flexibility of his toes - they had awoken.
Alright. He would try to stand. With a sequence of movements that utilised ancient, untested musculature, he set his two feet down on the cold stone floor and instinctively pushed himself to stand. The action was too much for his groggy legs to carry and he tripped forward, catching himself on something warm and soft. He heard a low growl and instinctively tossed himself backwards onto the platform he had been laying down on. Then, he stepped forward again to touch the warm, soft spot. With some further probing and prodding, he concluded that whatever this surface was, it was not made of the same material as the floor. A short distance from the spot, there came another growl and a loud snore. He jumped backwards again, but collected himself faster this time. He approached the sound of the snore and reached out. His hands came into contact with something warm and wet, and he retracted them immediately. He gave them a sniff and recoiled - it stank of death and rot. He looked back in the general direction of where the snoring had come from. Whatever it was, its scent warned his every system that he should move on. He didn’t know where to go, though.
It was then that he raised his head and saw, high above what looked to be the shadow of an uneven wall, rising and falling as though it breathed, a light, faint enough to be invisible, yet so very evident in this utter darkness. He looked back down again and put two and two together - the wall was whatever was in front of him, and whatever was in front of him was likely no wall at all, but a living, breathing creature. He tried to move to the right, but met only a cold stone wall; he tried to move to the left, but the wall just kept going and going, and he didn’t feel comfortable fumbling around in the dark as he did. Eventually, he decided to climb over the creature.
It was difficult at first - its skin was soft and slippery - but his whole body was awake by now - instincts took him to the top eventually. There, from the top of whatever creature this was, he saw it: It was a distant, faint light of blueish white, patrolling between what appeared to be rows upon rows, columns upon columns, of platforms, upon which laid something or someone sleeping. The light kept intimate watch over every single one, stopping by every creature to inspect it thoroughly before moving on to the next. This gave him a chance to see what this room was: A vast, unending dormitory, filled with shelves upon shelves of life. A prison? Perhaps, but he wasn’t going to stay long enough to find out.
Keeping himself as hidden as possible, he descended from the creature he had been standing on and collapsed into a crawl. Snaking his way along the floor, he observed smaller and larger shadows all around him, cleared now as the light drew closer to his part of the hall. Some were bipedal like him, albeit shorter, taller, furrier or nuder. Some looked like they belonged in the sky or in the sea; some were so large as to take up whole sectors of the hall; others were small enough to share platforms with millions of others. What kind of purgatory was this?!
Something changed before him. A growing, black image formed on the floor ahead of him, and it didn’t take long before he realised it was his own shadow. He twisted onto his back and saw another orb of blue light, this one closing in on him while flaring ominously. He pushed himself back and up against a stone platform, and just as the night captured him, he shouted, “NOOOOOO!”
Poof!
He opened his eyes, then blinked instinctively on account of the lighting change. Around him was a serenely dim room, with jellyfish swimming lethargically around in the air. The atmosphere was uncannily different from what he was certain had been either a prison or a tomb just now. The roof and walls were made of clear glass, which allowed him to see into the vast emptiness of what he could only surmise was the night sky - except that it was everywhere.
“My child… You have awoken,” came a voice like silk from behind him. He turned to see the smiling face of a beautiful, plum-skinned woman, with hair like the midnight sky and eyes like two glistening moons. She was dressed in what looked to be a dress spun entirely from the night sky itself. She wore a peaceful, tranquil expression with a small, soft smile and had extended a hand in his direction, invitingly gesturing for him to approach. “Come, come closer, my child.”
He approached slowly, steadily, his experience in the tomb keeping him on his toes. With a slightly hunkered posture, he gestured at the surroundings and asked in as calm a voice, “What… Is this place?”
The woman giggled softly. “Oh, my dear… I have waited for so long for someone to ask me that question. You are in my sanctuary, a place no one will ever come to harm you.”
The man eyed the outside through the glass dome again. The stars twinkled in the distance; further away, a purple, round stone drifted slower than the eye could observe, as if suspended in thin air; if he really focused, he could just the a different shadow, unlike the one blocking out the outside light. It was almost as if… A different world was there below. He turned once again to the woman and asked, “Where exactly are we?”
The goddess smiled wider and closed her eyes peacefully as she gestured skywards. “We are somewhere between realities - a world where all is in our power, and where the light of the sun will never hurt us again. Suspended in the space between Galbar and the great beyond, we are safe from all danger. Welcome, my child, to the dark side of the moon.”
“The MOON?!” he shouted in reply and the woman recoiled a little, seemingly struggling to keep her calm appearance. He knelt down and clutched his head - yes, he didn’t remember anything about his past, but truths of the universe like the existence of the Sun, the Moons and the Stars came as easily to him as breathing - and to think that he currently was on one of these three celestial objects sabotaged what little sense he had made of his situation even further.
The woman waved her hand soothingly. “Do not worry, my child - I have already imbued you with the powers necessary to sustain your existence here for all eternity. Now, I am certain you have many questions, dear, so go ahead and a--”
“Who am I?!” shouted the man again and the woman frowned slightly.
“Your, your name, my child, is Twilight, champion of the moo--”
“Where did I just come from?! What was that place?!”
“Please, Twilight, don’t interrupt me. It was--”
“It was a tomb, wasn’t it?! Am I dead?! Is this the afterlife?!”
“Twilight!” The woman’s smile had faded for an instant, replaced by an annoyed glare. However, it quickly returned - though much too slowly for Twilight not to notice. The man returned a frown and crossed his hands over his chest.
“What was it?”
The woman sighed softly and stood up, gesturing to the right. A mirror of moon dust coalesced over her hand and she sent it floating towards Twilight. The man peered into the mirror’s image and saw an endlessly long set of tunnels going deep inside the moon, each tunnel ending in a chambre full of stone beds upon which slept both animate and inanimate life, sorted by species. The man drew a gasp and looked back at the woman and asked frightfully, “Are you some kind of, of death spirit? A jailor?”
The woman blinked and recoiled. “Uh--! What?!” She then instantly collected herself and cleared her throat. She put back on her soft smile and approached Twilight with slow, controlled steps. “No, my child… I am neither a death spirit nor a jailor. I am the protector of all life, the Lady on the Moon, and the Guardian in the Night.” She paused to see if Twilight could figure it out, but a skeptical frown was the only answer she got. With a slightly more frustrated sigh, she said, “I am Gibbou - goddess of the moon?” Twilight shook his head again, eliciting a groan in response. “Oh, that’s just great… I woke up an idiot.”
“Wait, woke up? What?”
“Yes, you’ve been asleep.”
“For how long?”
Gibbou shook her head and rolled her eyes, shrugging. “I don’t know - a while, I guess?”
“How. Long, Gibbou?”
The goddess shrunk before the scowling man. Sheepishly, she prodded together her index fingers and focused her gaze on anywhere but the man’s face. “W-well… Around, uh… Two, two thousand years?”
“Two thou--!” The man staggered back as if Gibbou had kicked him in the chest - though she may as well have. He supported himself against the ice cold glass wall, cupping a quivering palm over his mouth. “... I, I can’t believe this? What of my family? My friends?”
“Did you have any?” Gibbou asked before she could really analyse the contents of her question. She immediately tried to fix it by saying, “Look, if you did, I’m pretty sure they’re safely asleep in the Hall below!” She paused. “Or not, but that’s beside the point!”
“How is that ‘beside the point’, Gibbou?! Gods, I was kidnapped 2000 years ago and put inside a, a, a tomb with life from all over the world, wasn’t I?!”
Gibbou gulped, but didn’t respond. Twilight grit his teeth and repeated in a roar, “Wasn’t I?!”
“Technically, it’s a dormitory.”
Twilight threw his hands in the air. “You know what? No, I will not stay here with you. Where’s the exit?” Just as he took a step away from her, he felt something wrap itself around his leg, complemented by, “NONONONONO! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEEEEAAASE, DON’T GOOO-HO-HOOO!” The moon goddess laid weeping and rubbed her cheek against his left calf muscle. Twilight tried to pull his leg out of her arms, but Gibbou held on with titanic strength.
“Damn it, woman - let… Go!”
“Nnno! I don’t wanna be alone agaaaaiiin!” the moon goddess wept.
“Not my problem! Go wake up someone else or something!”
“I triiiieed! The others are so mean to meeee!”
“Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you kidnap someone off their damn planet - now let go!” The man eventually managed to pull his foot out of Gibbou’s grasp, who proceeded to rise to a kneeling position and point a quivering finger at Twilight’s back.
“Y-y-you can’t leave! It’s impossible!”
Twilight turned slowly, menacingly, and stared Gibbou down. “What was that?”
The moon goddess nodded rapidly. “Mhm! Yeah - all exits are sealed and, and, and if you step outside, you’ll die!”
Twilight frowned pitifully. “Didn’t you just tell me you gave me powers that can let me survive this environment?”
Gibbou made a sheepish expression. “No, I said, uh… I gave you powers thaaaaat, uhm… Let you… Revive thiiiis man-pyro-scent--No, come back!”
Twilight started to grow used to the weight of a goddess dragging along with his foot. Gibbou choked down some sobs and went on: “Two thousand years, Twilight - do you know what it’s like to be alone for two thousand years?!”
“Oh, I don’t know, Gibbou - do you know what it’s like to realise you’ve been -asleep- for two thousand years?” He dragged the goddess along with him down a staircase, Gibbou blurting out the occasional ‘owie!’
“You’re even worse than when I woke up that Vrool last millennia! And he ate a quarter of the aquatic section!”
“Well, that’s nice for him. Now where is the damn exit?” He took a left, and Gibbou nearly lost her grip as she slammed into the corner of the doorway.
“Then there was that night elf that I woke up four centuries ago - she was so, so mean! She even tried to attack me - several times! Why are you mortals like this?!”
“Why are you, a goddess, like this?!” He stopped and looked down at Gibbou with his hands on his hips, a stern frown on his face. Gibbou immediately sat up on her knees and looked down at the ground. “Don’t you have, like, other gods you can interact with?”
Gibbou gave a sad sniff. “W-well… I don’t feel like I have, have the right to.”
“Oh, no…”
“See, about two thousand years ago…”
“You’re gonna tell me your whole life story, aren’t you?”
“... Do you plan on letting me?”
“Not at all.”
“... Not even a summary?”
“Will you tell me where the exit is?”
“... No...”
“Well, guess we’re stuck here, huh?” With that, Twilight sat down with crossed legs opposite of Gibbou. He rested his chin on a balled-up knuckle. A moment or so went buy when the only sounds were Gibbou’s sniffing. Eventually, Twilight let out a sigh and said, “Alright… Give me the gist of it.”
The moon goddess’ face lit up and she took a deep breath, but saw Twilight raise his brows warningly and cleared her throat. “So, uh… Yeah, about two thousand years ago, I did some bad stuff, uh… Caused some deaths here and there and, well, I got a bit of a panic attack.”
“A panic attack as in?”
“As in let me finish, Twilight! So, I got a panic attack and decided that, in order to be, y’know, protector of all life, I should snatch up some of all life and keep it safe here, right?”
“Great plan, gotta say,” replied Twilight with a flat sneer.
“Weeell, it wasn’t--... Oh, right, sarcasm.” Gibbou hung her head a bit. “Anyway, I was confident in that plan for about, uh…” She scratched her head thoughtfully. “Three months, I think…”
Twilight smirked and Gibbou scowled back. “I’m a goddess, not flawless. I’m not my sister, okay?”
“Oh, wooow, you have a sister? What’re you lonely for, then? Can’t you just talk to her?”
Gibbou looked away, and for a moment, Twilight almost looked sympathetic. “Oh, damn, is, is she--? L-look, I didn’t mean it like that, I--”
“What, you think she’s dead?” Gibbou exclaimed. “No! What’re you, stupid? She’s a goddess! She can’t die!”
Twilight exaggerated a shrug. “Well, how am I supposed to know that?! I literally just woke up after two thousand years of sleep!”
“I dunno, maybe you remember at least -something- about the gods?”
“Well, I clearly don’t, so there!” There was a pause. “So… What happened to you then?” Gibbou shrunk together timidly again.
“And theeeen, well… You know what a hangover is?”
“I’ve forgotten memories, not words, Gibbou,” replied Twilight with a lopsided sneer.
“Okay, just checking, sheesh...” replied Gibbou with a roll of her eyes. “So yeah, I had a regret hangover for, like, a millennium - just kinda regretting the whole, y’know, ‘kidnapping a large percentage of the world’s life’-thing, and I got really, reeeaally lonely, and really, reeeeaally sad during that time.”
“Couldn’t you have just, y’know, put them back?”
“Remember how I said there’s no exit?”
“No…”
Gibbou nodded. “Though you can jump around on the moon as much as you want, there’s no way of getting down to Galbar. You can, uh, you can trust me on that. I’ve trink -numous- times.”
“So you mean I’m stuck here…”
“Yup.”
“With you?”
“That stings, Twilight.”
The man bent his head back and unleashed a pained scream while Gibbou sat there with a very insulted frown. As Twilight sat back down with a hung head, Gibbou opened her mouth, closed it again and then opened it once more to ask, “Do you want me to put you back to sleep?”
“Is that what you did with the others you woke up?”
“Most of them…” she replied with a sniff.
“What do you mean ‘most of them’?” asked Twilight with a suspicious frown.
“Some stayed around long enough to die of old age; others, uh… Found the backdoor.”
“You mean they--”
“They died horribly, yes.”
Twilight started hyperventilating again. She caved down so he was laying on his side, empty, whiteish blue eyes staring at nothing in particular. “... Well, guess I’ve got nothing better to do, huh.”
“Than to…?”
He rolled over so he was facing away from Gibbou and gave a wave with the hand not supporting his propped-up head. “Go on, finish your story.”
Gibbou, not quite sure what to feel anymore, wiped away a chalky tear and continued, “So, at the thousand year mark, I decided to wake up some people - y’know, so I wouldn’t be lonely anymore. I tried the Vrool first - we know how that went…”
“What -is- a Vrool, actually?”
“Real mean squids.”
“Are they supposed to be on land?”
“No, but I blessed them to be able to stay on land.”
Twilight rolled back over to face her. “So, lemme get this straight - you went through the trouble of waking up, blessing and explaining the situation to various mortals for a thousand years, and not once did it occur to you that you could just, I dunno, -make- a conversation partner?”
The scene stilled. Gibbou’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as tears welled up in her eyes. Twilight rolled onto his back. “I can’t believe this…”
“Bad things happen when I create stuff! I didn’t want to accidentally create a giant fluffy dragon that would eat everything in the Hall of the Eclipse every Tuesday!”
“Why does it matter?! Can’t you just make more life if the old life gets eaten? Also, what’s Tuesday?!”
“You told me you know words!”
“Well, obviously not ones you’ve made up!”
“Ugh! Either way, I didn’t want to lose the life I’ve kidnapped because one - it’s life and it’s precious, and two - I don’t trust myself to remake it properly!”
The silence settled again. The time that passed before words were said again was just long enough to maximise the awkward tension brewing. “So,” Twilight mumbled eventually, “you have a confidence issue?”
Now it was Gibbou’s turn to turn around, collecting her knees at her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“You’ve already talked about it plenty, so you don’t have to.” Twilight scooted a little closer until they sat back to back, Gibbou’s face dug deep in between her knees and Twilight’s face looking up at the ceiling. “... But I do think you’re being a bit harsh on yourself.”
Gibbou looked up slightly and the sobbing recommenced. “... R-... Really?”
“Yeah, I mean… You made all this; you, uh, managed to move all this life all the way to the moon…”
“Pushing it…”
“Got’cha. Anyway, I’m still alive, for one! You -can- do things properly, Gibbou! You just… Don’t get so hung up on the stuff that doesn’t work out the way you hoped, okay?”
Gibbou sniffed and turned her head around sideways, choking a sob. “Where’s all this coming from?”
“Well, y’know… I figured since we’ve got a long time together, we might just bury the hatchet right now, yeah? Maybe even become friends?”
Gibbou let out a weak chuckle, which grew into a genuine one. “Oh, Twilight… Now I almost don’t regret infusing you with my power.” She wiped away a joyful tear.
“Heh, yeah, I can be an ass sometimes… Say, what was that about infusion?”
“Oh, see, I put a part of my soul into you, blessing you with eternal life and divine abilities unlike that which any other mortal can receive,” replied Gibbou faithfully. Twilight blinked.
“Y-... Y’mean I can perform miracles?”
Gibbou nodded, still facing away from Twilight. “Oh yeah, yeah! Go nuts. Would be nice to get a fresh, artistic mind around here. I’m almost tired of making gargoyles everywhere - almost.”
There was no response, except for a gentle hum. Gibbou turned her head somewhat. “Twilight?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bright light - it immediately made her turn fully to lay her quartz-coloured eyes upon something that took her breath away entirely.
There, not even four paces ahead, was a glowing, blue ring showing an image of the Boreal Highlands, unchanged as though she had seen them yesterday - and on the other side of the image stood Twilight, surveying the surroundings. Gibbou hastened forward, casting herself at the portal. However, a powerful force knocked her back and into the wall behind her. Quickly, she regained her stance and approached the portal again. “Twilight!”
The figure on the other side turned. “Oh, Gibbou! Heeeeyy…”
“Twilight, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but--”
“Yo, Gibbou, listen… Since, y’know, I’ve god part of your soul and all, I figured it might be wise to, y’know, go down to Galbar for a spell - test this divinity business, y'know!”
“Twilight, I swear on my sister, if you don’t--”
“Oh, I’m sorry, what’s that? I think the portal isn’t transmitting sound anymore.” On the other side, Gibbou started sobbing again.
“What about what you -just- said? About burying the hatchet? Becoming friends?”
Twilight stretched his hands over his head. “Yyyyeeeeaah, about that. I’m sure people say you’re nice once they get to know you, -but- you also trapped me in a prison for most of history. I’m not really sure mommy would approve of me having such a friend…”
“Your mom died two thousand years ago!”
“Proving my point, too, huh.” Gibbou slapped her palm over her mouth and Twilight smirked back. “Well, nice knowing you, Gibs - I’m off to relive some of those lost years.” With that, he started strolling away from the now-shrinking portal.
“No, Twilight - Twilight, come back!” Gibbou pleaded, but all she got back was a sloppy wave over Twilight’s back. The portal finally popped out of existence. Gibbou stared at the empty air for a long time, tears not even able to pour forth. Eventually, she keeled over and screamed her sorrow into the floor. She couldn’t stop bawling - it just hurt so badly. Finally - after two thousand years, she thought she had finally gotten a friend again.
She needed someone - anyone. She laid down flatly against the floor and whispered, “Orey… Orey, help me…” The pain too much to handle, she closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, there was a familiar, gentle hum on the air. Gibbou scrambled to her knees and eyed the phenomenon up ahead. It was a portal, similar to the one Twilight had made, but the image on the other side was different: it looked nothing like Galbar at all, and it oozed of divine essence.
Oraelia’s was among them.
With a explosive movement, Gibbou charged at the portal. She would no longer be alone; she would face the others regardless of what they would say about her. She needed them - she needed her.
“ORAELIA!” she shouted as she jumped through the portal and into the Antiquity.
A man wakes up inside the Hall of the Eclipse. It’s hella dark and he feels as though he’s been asleep for 2000 years (spoiler alert). He tries to Metal Gear his way out, but is found by the sentries first. The sentries teleport him to Gibbou, who greets him like Gibbou wouldn’t greet people. The man is named Twilight and learns that he has to spend eternity with Gibbou. Hilarities ensue as he hates this idea and the two banter with each other until Gibbou explains what she has been doing for 2k years - long story short, she believed she could protect all life in the Hall of the Eclipse for roughly three months and spent the remaining 1999 years and nine months regretting everything. She tried waking up others before Twilight, but they either died or killed themselves, leaving Gibbou pretty sad and lonely. The two eventually reconcile and almost become friends before Gibbou tells Twilight he’s an avatar and can do godly stuff. Twilight immediately dabs off to Galbar and leaves Gibbou to cry. Gibbou then realises she can teleport to the Antiquity and immediately speeds off in search of her sister.
Gibbou/Twilight: 5MP/5DP
0MP (first action): Make the human Twilight an avatar of Gibbou.
0MP (first action): Create a portal from the Dark Side of the Moon to Galbar.
Of course! How could she have been so stupid?! She had been completely useless down here, causing so much despair and damage without even knowing about it. At least on the Moon, she would be able to keep everything under a watchful eye. Oh! What if… What if she put everything up there to sleep for eternity? Then it would be super easy to keep them safe! Hehehe, oh, Oraelia had been right in the end - she was so smart!
Yes, only Oraelia - only her sister knew how hard life could be. Nothing ever went as she hoped it would, but she knew Oraelia would be proud of her for this. Think of the lives saved! The thought made her giddy. She travelled westwards, picking up specimens of all life she saw on the way. She kept them floating safely behind her.
In the early evening, she landed in the middle of the village of Fragrance. She was eager to see Adrian and tell him of her plan. She called out, “Adrian? Adrian, I’m back!” and prayed she hadn’t been gone for too long. Night elves, awoken by the rudely loud calls, peeked out of their caves and huts with scowls aimed at the moon goddess.
"S'up, Toots," Adrian yawned from the mouth of a cave, a long strand of blue hair stuck to his wrinkled shirt and dragging behind him as he approached.
Gibbou squealed as she saw him and immediately picked him up. “Oh, Adrian, I’ve missed you so, so, so, soooo much! Have you been alright? Have the night elves been good to you?” Out from the cave approached Cilantra, Parslie and Bay among others, all armed with sharpened sticks and stone knives.
"For the most part," Adrian leaned to peep behind Gibbou and grimaced at the approaching weapons, "They are a bit superstitious and very much slaves to anxiety."
“Heh… Like maker, like, uh… Makees. Say, Adrian, wanna hear about my newest idea? Oh, I think you’re gonna like it!”
"I bet I will," He blinked, "But, uh, are they gonna like it." He tilted his chin at the armed envoy. On cue, Cilantra opened her mouth in the usual threatening whisper she usually employed:
“Moon goddess! You return to us once again, loud and squealing as ever. What do you say in your defense for the crime of breaking the Great Peace again?” Parslie and Bay folded their arms behind her and scowled all the same. Gibbou sighed.
“Sorry, sorry, I got so excited, is all!” Cilantra and the others motioned for her to lower her voice and Gibbou grimaced. “Sorry. I’ll be gone soon, okay?” She looked back down at Adrian. “So… The plan is… You know how I’m supposed to keep all life safe during the night, right?” Cilantra and the others, meanwhile, felt awfully ignored.
Adrian tucked a knuckle under his chin, "Yeah, I remember that. Whatcha thinkin', Blue?"
“So, turns out I suck at that - I let soooo much bad stuff happen without even knowing it. Did you know that the trolls I made are now actively eating people? It’s so awful I want to just stop existing right here and now--!”
“Wait, trolls that do what?!” came a call from Parslie.
“What’s a troll?” Bay added in her confusion.
“Please don’t interrupt. Anyway, so I got this great idea, right? Just bring as much life as I can up to the moon, where I can keep it safe forever! C’mon, what do you think? It’s good, right?”
"The moon, huh?" Adrian scratched the side of his face, "Seems kinda far, doesn't it?"
“Indeed! Far away from danger, horrors and, maybe even more importantly, other gods! Don’t worry, though, Adrian - you’ll get a front seat!” She placed him on her shoulder and giggled happily to herself.
"Well if you think it's a good idea..." Adrian seemed unsure, "We were all just starting to settle."
“Don’t worry - where we’re going, you won’t even need to settle!” With that, she added all the night elves she could see to the massive cloud above of various animals and mortals she had found along the way. Thanks to the darkness, the cloud had been hard to see, but now that it was visible, the majority of the night elves dove into hiding. Gibbou frowned. “C’mon, people - it’s totally safe! Life here’s pretty dull anyway, right? The moon’s where it’s at!”
"Well wait!"
The majority of Fragrance’s elves managed to escape, but Cilantra, Parslie and Bay were all taken away. To keep him safe, Gibbou also deposited Adrian in the cloud. Later that night, she had circumvented the rest of the world and gathered what animals and mortals she wanted. She then flew upwards through the atmosphere and out into space, bringing all the life she had collected safely with her. She brought them to her precious moon and found her favourite cave. In the blink of an eye, she twisted the stone and dust inside the cave into a great and wonderful barrow with tunnels going deep into the moon’s interior. She giggled to herself and turned to the cloud. “Welcome, all, to your new home - the Hall of the Eclipse! Here, you will all be safe for all eternity.
You have my word.”
Gibbou uses her fight money to buy two of every animal on Galbar; then, she herds them onto a boat; and then she beats the crap out of every single one.
Just kidding - she does snatch up a few of every species, though, and puts them to sleep forever in her new Hilton Hotel Luna, aka. the Hall of the Eclipse.
Gibbou: 1MP/0DP 1MP - Perform godly feat: Levitate thousands of animals and mortals across Galbar and to the moon safely. 2DP, discounted to 0DP with two free titles - Create holy site: The Hall of the Eclipse: Has the following title:
Moonbound II: All non-divine life within this holy site is forever asleep unless awoken by Gibbou. Those asleep will neither age nor die, but they will also never wake up unless Gibbou explicitly awakens them. The holy site also provides breathable air, but non-divine creatures within the site's boundaries can never leave on their own accord. Once that happens, all biological processes will resume.
Gibbou had traveled due south from the temple, but a temptation to check on the trolls she left around northern Toraan had veered her off eastwards. She was now in the Boreal Highlands, taking a small stroll across the endless grass plains. She really had to get back to Adrian soon - she still had no idea of how long she had been gone - and the thought of that calamity Firinn had mentioned began to itch terribly at the back of her skull now that the high of joy and love from earlier had begun to fade.
While passing through the land, she came upon an uncannily frozen lake at the foot of a mountain - uncanny in that nothing else than this very lake was frozen. She moved closer and focused on her reflection in the ice. It stared back at her, and she had the slightest feeling that something else also was staring at her through her mirror image. She pulled away and shivered uncomfortably. Something about this water, this whole area, woke to life those emotions poor Meghzaal and Lucia had spent so much time quelling. She couldn’t let herself be consumed by her anxieties and insecurities again. She had to remember her strengths, too, for their sakes. She turned away from the lake and kept moving. However, an approaching shape made her slow down and observe.
At first, the shape was but a blur, rocketing above the tree-line at a pace that was sure to shock mortals and birds alike, barrelling towards the lake from the east. For a moment, it seemed to slow down, and vanished down under the cover of trees in the distance. The sudden departure of a whole slew of colorful birds from the nearby trees tracked its position through the dense forest until finally; the mysterious shape broke through the foliage and revealed itself to the blue goddess.
It was a pale woman with blond-blue hair and horns sprouting from head and shoulders alike. Deep in thought and bearing an expression that expressed guilt and pain alike, she - despite moving quite a bit slower now - drifted through the air in a straight line towards the iced-over lake, listless feet barely brushing the longer grass and bushes as she moved at pace. If she had noticed the Moon Goddess, she had not yet made an effort to show it.
Gibbou made a frown and pondered momentarily whether to say hello - she really, really should get on with her quest. She then raised an eyebrow at that train of thought. What kind of philosophy was that? Of course she should say hello! Nothing like meeting new people, anyway, and she looked so sad! Maybe she could share a few of those kind words Megh and Lucia had shared with her? And so, Gibbou waved her hand and yelled a gleeful, “Hello there!”
The floating goddess came to an abrupt stop, shocked out of her internal distraction, and her attention turned entirely to the enthusiastic Gibbou. She seemed hesitant at first, a visible internal turmoil as she went through the exact same dilemma the Moon Goddess had - or at least that was to be assumed. It was a conflicted shyness - or perhaps apathy. Still, she watched Gibbou quietly from afar, and then peered back at the lake by which the two found themselves.
Some awkward few moments later, the goddess drifted over towards Gibbou with renewed determination, icy blue eyes settling on the equally blue goddess. Her first words were not a greeting; on approach she questioned with inquisitive distress in her tone. “Did you do this to my sanctuary?” as her arm lifted to point at the lake in a manner most befitting her accusation.
“So it’s -not- supposed to be like that? I knew the ice was fake!” She gave the frozen lake a disappointed frown before looking back at the woman with an apologetic shrug. “No, it was like this when I came, and I’m really sorry to say I don’t know who did this to it.” She shifted between the woman and the lake again. “Would you like some help breaking it apart?”
Another pause, as the horned goddess looked upon the lake and back to Gibbou once more. “...I-...” she offered with pursed lips, hesitation clear. Eventually, she simply nodded, finding words more troublesome than they were worth. With new direction she drifted closer towards the lake, eager to restore it to what it had once been. Her feet touched down by the lakeside, kneeling with uncertainty.
Gibbou nodded back and approached the lakebank with the woman beside her. She knelt down next to the ice and looked over at her with a supportive smile on her face as she raised her fist in the air. “On the count of three, okay? One…”
The pale woman looked back to Gibbou as she spoke, following her features and tracing each creasing line on her face with her eyes. It was as she hung on every word. “Two…” With the countdown imminent, she seemed to decide once more, and looked back to the lake with fresh intent. Tense and uncertain yet still determined, she seemed to hold her breath awaiting the final word.
On ‘three!’ their fists hammered the ice as one, sending a quake throughout the whole surface. The ice didn’t stand a chance - it was pulverised to slush, which melted away in the water below. While ripples trembled through the water itself, true to the lake’s qualities, the ripples faded in due time, leaving the serene pool as it had always been - tranquil and still. Gibbou blinked her wide, bright eyes at the water, whispering a quiet ‘woah’ before saying, “This is the most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes stared skywards, then back to the lake. “It reflects the moon so perfectly!” She couldn’t help but squeeze out a gleeful squeal. “How’d you even find this place, miss--... Uh… Sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”
The woman righted herself slowly, lifting from the ground to resume her dubious hovering just barely above the grass. She too took in the beauty of the lake, lips parting to release an exultant breath - it wasn’t a smile, but somehow they had managed to bring some measure of peace to her previously conflicted features. When she finally turned to look at Gibbou, it was with a softer side than that insidious suspicion of before. “I-.. I followed the river. I liked it, so I made it this way.” she explained with a murmur. “I am Neiya, Goddess of Love,” there was a distinct pause, and the goddess once more managed to look conflicted. “...and loss. Thank you… for the help. You are only the third of our kind I have met.”
“Only the third? Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Neiya - most are a nice, open bunch who’d be happy to meet you. I’m Gibbou, Goddess of the Moon and guardian of life in the night. You are most welcome for the help, by the way. Always happy to be of service.” She reached out to shake Neiya’s hand with a gleeful smile.
“Oh,” Neiya began with soft surprise. She glanced down at the offered hand, a little dumbstruck by the gesture. Still she lifted her own hand hesitantly, doubting herself each step along the way in completing the handshake. “Firinn told me of you, and something about birthing dr-.. hm.. drewdism?” Her slender hand finally accepted the handshake, cold to the touch and uncertain of the ritual involved. Drawing on previous experiences, instead of shaking Gibbou’s hand, she squeezed it gently. The ripple effect of emotions roiling within the goddess offered but a warning sensation, but other than that, it was mostly awkward.
The moon goddess felt the dissonant emotions and shrunk together somewhat. She sheepishly squeezed back, either too weakly or too roughly, before letting go. She immediately gripped her right arm with her left hand and let her eyes drop to their feet. “O-oh, he did, huh? Yeah, uh, he’s, good at… Talking. He told me some stuff too, lots of stuff that didn’t feel all that great to hear honestly. Came out of nowhere, too - like, who says that kind of stuff to someone you’ve just met, and--?” She awkwardly back at Neiya. “... Sorry, ramblings and, and that--uhm! Yeah, I’m making droodism--... Druitism--.. Bleh! Druidism a thing, yes. Did he tell you what it does?”
That seemed to throw Neiya for a loop. “...No. Like, ah, like you said. It said a great many things. I am not sure even the God of Truth understands all what it says. Only enough to push us where it,” she paused to consider, features darkening as she did. “...wants us to be? But it has a burden, just like all of us, I think. For all the beauty of the moon, I imagine not all is as you imagined it would be.” She didn’t smile, but she seemed to find a little confidence, at least. “And the moon is beautiful.”
“Heh, thanks,” came a timid reply, much of the earlier confidence lost like a needle in a haystack. “Y-you, too.” The words lingered in the air for a moment while Gibbou’s cheeks turned from plum to peach. “I-I mean… YEAH! Ahem, yeah, the God of Truth sure says a lot of stuff about the things and, and, woah! Would you look at the, uh, Moon! It’s almost… Midnight, damn it… Uh, uhm! Say, how’s the creation of Galbar going?” At the end of her sentence, she looked as though she had sprinted a mile.
The pale goddess tilted her head slowly, watching Gibbou suffer with a returning tranquility, almost as if she had rebuilt her confidence by sapping the poor moon goddess of hers. “Oh? I wouldn’t know. I spent most of my life watching the ocean, and listening to the emotions of mortals.” Her eyes once more followed the goddess with growing intensity, and her hand slowly raised once more, that unstoppable desire to touch returning. Fingers trailed towards Gibbou’s face slowly, hesitant and sedate. The moon goddess trembled slightly and seemed to look everywhere except for Neiya’s icy eyes. “Let me show you,” Neiya murmured with an enraptured tone, as her hand slid up to rest against Gibbou’s cheek, a gentle and guiding push to make her face the love goddess.
A whirlwind of emotion rushed from the simple connection, Neiya’s eyes seeming to roil with a strange storm as she shared a sliver of her experiences and feelings. The intense grief of the villagers at the riverbank, the joy of creation and the peace of the ocean - all whirling past in an instant. Finally, there was Sanya, Yaian, their loss. Their once still and happy life, torn to shreds. Their memories, and the pain that had transformed them forever. It was a maelstrom of shared emotion, memory, and context.
The moon goddess’ knees buckled under the weight of the emotions and didn’t seem to regain their strength right away. While one leg was submerged in the icy water of the lake and the other was kicking weakly against the shore soil in an effort to stand, Gibbou looked up at Neiya with squinting, leaking eyes, rivers of quartz pouring across her plum skin like a flood. She placed a trembling palm over the icy hand on her cheek and spoke in a squeaking voice choked up by tears: “Why? Why are you showing me all this?” She covered her mouth with her hand and looked back down. “Sanya, Yalan… A troll… It ate their families, their friends. It, it ate them, it--” Gibbou gagged multiple times until she keeled over completely, propping herself up on her elbows, one of which dipped into the lake. Hopeless eyes glared at the mixture of soil and water right underneath her face, half a reflection hatefully scowling back at her. “... My own creations - the ones I created to protect life on this continent… Are murderers… Mortal-eaters… And I saw none of it. Not even the raid on their village perpetrated by humans, did I see.” Finally, her elbows gave out, and Gibbou laid flat on her belly, halfway washed ashore the lakebank, her weeping painting the empty soundscape a deep blue.
Neiya followed her down at first, a paradoxically sorrow-filled fascination watching the moon goddess experience despair. The connection broken as Gibbou fell to the ground, the love goddess touched down on the wet ground beside Gibbou, flexing her hand slowly. A soft breath escaped her, and for a time she appeared lost in thought - she hadn’t expected such a reaction - but then she hadn’t known about the connection, either. With graceful motion, she leaned forward to grasp the crying goddess, and gently lift her head up against her own legs and lap, away from wet sand and icy water. She offered no words at first, allowing the air to fill with the goddess’ pain, but ran a gentle set of fingers over her hair in a serene show of comfort. Eventually, she simply murmured. “I’m sorry,” She sighed as she looked out over her lake, alternating between her vigil over Gibbou and her creation.
In her despair, it didn’t matter to Gibbou whose body she was in contact with - all that mattered was that she found solace in something - anything. The cold, shallow comfort she received from Neiya felt momentarily like that of her sister, but deeper, darker emotions stirred forth within her. She asked again, “why did you show me this?”, but her tone had lost its somberness, replaced instead by spiteful venom. “You knew it would hurt for me to see - why did you show me this?”
Neiya sat quiet for longer than what was acceptable for such a reasonable demand, hand stopping in its gentle comfort. Another sigh, bothered by their shared moment ending. “Because,” she began in answer, a confidence to her voice that made her words unfriendly. “Now you will appreciate happiness where you find it.” Another pause, as she ruminated on their shared words at the beginning of their meet. “How can you protect life, if you do not understand it? This pain is crushing, but it is also purposeful. Now you know.”
“You’re lying, aren’t you,” came a knife-like reply with a hopeless voice. “No one would extract purpose from this suffering - it’s just suffering. What motivation is there in seeing your greatest achievements bring death and ruin to mortal lives. How can I appreciate happiness knowing my creations one day will end it? No, you did this to hurt me, didn’t you?”
The pale goddess seemed to crease her lips into a thin, sad smile, though no one would ever see it. “Oh, my sweet. No,” she offered with a soft tone, “I know it hurts. It feels like it will twist your stomach out of your body. Like an itch in your bones that makes you want to scream and give up at the same time.” Her fingers began to run over and through Gibbou’s hair gently once more. “It feels like it will feel that way forever.”
She gazed down at the goddess listless in her lap, offering another gentle sigh. “But this pain is normal. It will fade - never entirely, perhaps, but you will always remember. And that will make you stronger than you were before.”
“How will it make me stronger? All I feel is weakness, uselessness… Meghzaal and Lucia, my draugs… Next you’ll probably tell me my night elves have slaughtered every living thing in Mydia and that the owlixes feast on human babies in the night, won’t you? Go on. I’m done as a goddess anyway. What good am I?” She dug her nails seethingly into Neiya’s lap. “... I’ve never been good for anything - why should that change just because you’ve proven this to me?”
The alleged love goddess lifted her other hand and gently laid it on Gibbou’s head as well, resting it gently as the other continued its gentle comfort. “You have opened your eyes, my love, and the pain has given you doubt. It hurts, and what you saw was awful. It does not need to stay that way.” Neiya bowed forward in a gentle lean, leaning over the sobbing goddess in her lap protectively. “If this pain makes you give up, how can you ever say you loved the world? Is this sorrow, this new knowledge, enough to stop fighting for what you want?”
“It’s enough to make me question what I want, that’s for sure.” There was an odd, twisted, uncanny comfort in the Love Goddess’ embrace - cruel, cold, unfeeling; and yet, it was so safe, so warm. Hatred and grief bubbled like hot grease atop a thick layer of loneliness and need for praise, love, anything to prove to Gibbou that she had some manner of worth. “You’re just like Firinn. You break me down for no reason and tell me that these feelings are supposed to make me better - stronger. Look, I’m trying, okay, but how can I achieve my highs when I’m always being pulled low by people who constantly remind me of all my mistakes?”
“I’m sorry it did that to you, Gibbou,” Neiya intoned with all the sedate comfort her sorrowful tone could muster. “Fìrinn does not-... did not experience emotion. It does not understand the impact its words will have until it has said them.” she explained, casually side-stepping her own part in the matter. “It can be tough. It can feel like the world is crashing down around you. But that does not mean you cannot find things to cherish. Moments of peace. Happiness cannot be killed, only tempered. If these things worry you so, you can find the drive to make them better. And until then, you can stay here with me. For as long as you want.”
“Give me one good reason not to get as far away from you and your, your words as I possibly can,” replied the moon goddess as a fresh flood of white tears dripped down onto Neiya’s lap.
“Because I feel what you feel. I feel it every turn of the sun. Every moment, a mortal weeps, a chorus sings inside me, of happiness, of guilt, of pain. I cannot take away your pain, my dearest, but I can help you fight through it,” Neiya righted herself slowly, lifting her gaze out over her reflective lakefront. Her hand abated it’s slow stroke of her hair, and moved to rest gently on Gibbou’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone in this. I am here for you always.”
Gibbou scowled up at Neiya’s face and pushed herself up slowly. She dusted as much soil and dirt off her clothes as she could, saying nothing.
Neiya parted her lips as if to speak, but seemed conflicted as Gibbou drew away. She extended her hand towards the goddess once more, hesitant. Pausing halfway, she lifted out of the dirt, slowly raising herself to hover over the ground once more. “...I want you to stay, Gibbou.” She pleaded after a time of silence, uncertainty returning to her voice.
“I can’t… I’ve been going about this all wrong. I think I understand now.” She looked down at Hir and pulled it from her belt. “No matter what I do, I always make things worse than they already were. But if I can’t safeguard life here on Galbar, I should just bring it closer to home!” She turned to Neiya with a smile - it was not a hopeful smile, but one of desperation. “I’ll bring as much of the world life with me as possible and set up a safe and tranquil home for them all…” She looked to the sky. “On the moon!”
Neiya lifted her gaze to the sky as well, narrowing her eyes as she peered at the large orb hanging there mockingly. When she looked back down to Gibbou, her serenity had begun to wash away from her features. Back came that bitter frown. That loneliness. “I’m certain you will care for them. Wherever you go. What you feel now will make sure of that, as it does me,” she breathed out sharply before snapping a last comment. “If that is what you want - then you should go. Go about your life with your new purpose.”
“I will,” came a reply. Gibbou looked down at Hir. “Everything else I’ve tried is useless, anyway.” She then tossed the horn into the lake, where it sank out of sight. She then turned her head sideways and regarded Neiya over her shoulder. “Oh, and Neiya…”
“...Yes, Gibbou?” The discarded horn was nothing but a novelty to the love goddess, who snapped her attention back to Gibbou the moment her name rang out.
“Never talk to me again.” With that, the moon goddess soared off, ready to enact her plan.
The horned goddess stared up towards the sky, trailing the moon goddess with her eyes as she rocketed away. A shaky breath left her lips, before the tears began to well up.
Later that day, on Whakarongo, Mydia…
“Oh, please, great World Tree, make the forest grow back,” came the nasal, squeaky prayer of Robgob the woodsgoblin. His grove had been taken by a flood, and now he was kneeling by the clear, still water where his precious trees once had grown. He opened his eyes and found, to a somber lack of surprise, that the trees hadn’t grown back. He let out a groan and pummeled the ground with a small fist.
Then something bumped into that fist. The goblin looked up and saw the oddest of things - a hollow horn, marked with tattoos and vines as if an artist had made it and left it outside to be reclaimed by nature. “What’s this,” he mumbled, “a horn of sorts?”
He shrugged. Maybe the village chieftain would like a closer look. He stood up and brought it back to the village.
Gibs is happy schnappy. On her way back to her duties, though, she of course gets distracted thinking about how her trolls are doing. Strolling through Boreal Highlands, she comes across the Tearfall Lake, which she finds weirdly frozen. Enter Neiya, wondering if Gibbou froze her precious lake. Gibbou says she didn’t and offers to help her unfreeze it. The two do it together and the lake is unfrozen! They do a handshake to greet each other, and Neiya uses her emotion powers to make the situation hella awkward, which affects Gibbou, too. Gibbou then asks the worst of all questions to ask Neiya, which is ‘how are you’. Neiya responds by saying, “Lemme show you,” and then proceeds to show Gibbou all the terrible shit she’s been through, including meeting the two humans whose whole village was first eaten by trolls and then attacked by humans. Gibbou collapses knowing she made the trolls and was oblivious to the human assault, and Neiya nurses her sweetly like a psychotic… psycho. Gibbou asks what there is to be hopeful about now, to which Neiya says ‘oh, you know, now that you know the world’s shit, maybe those little happy moments will be better?’ Gibbou is not convinced and instead offers up that she’s done this whole protection business wrong. She needs to take as much life as she can to the moon to keep it under closer watch. The two of them then break up.
Oh, and Hir is tossed into the Tearfall Lake and pops up in Mydia in the hands of a goblin who was praying for its grove to grow back. Hir will now remain there for the timeskip.
With a relieved sigh, Gibbou soared lethargically in a zig-zagging pattern, trying to woman herself up for her encounter with the boar. She wasn’t looking forward to it at all, but if anything could be used for self-defense, it would be stone - that was a truth of reality. She would lay a plan - sneak in, capture the pig’s consent and be halfway across the planet before the boar got wise, and--... Wait, how would that even work? Okay, okay - she’d go in, politely say hi to the boar and just ask, like she’d done every other time so far, and…
Oh, but what if the boar got difficult again? How long had it even been since they saw each other? A week? A year? Millennia? No, wait, it couldn’t be millennia - then Adrian would’ve already died long ago, and that hadn’t happened yet.
Right?
A pang of anxiety slammed into Gibbou like an oncoming meteorite and she wondered for a moment whether she should rocket back to Mydia to check up on him. It would only take her a few minutes and--...
No! No, no, no, she couldn’t have been away for that long. Come on, Gibbou - focus! She just had to obtain the final blessing on her artifact - then, she could return home and offer one of the night elves the first drink. Although, she would then have to take it back to Toraan… And then take it over to Kubrajzar. Wow, it was such a hassle to move this thing! How would mortals even do it?!
She pondered this thoroughly as she approached the tallest peaks of the World Anchor. She landed on the highest zenith, completely ignoring a certain nearby punctured stone with a sword stabbed through it. She sat down on a similar, yet much healthier stone and pondered the solutions some more.
Unbeknownst to Gibbou, the boar kilometers away, chuffed in the crisp fallen leaves of the subalpine. For hours he sought the perfect spot to spoil himself upon. And for hours he rustled the damp undergrowth in his self-pleasure. He deserved the moment of respite. Creating had drained him, and the Lifeblood seemed to need a break itself. What better to do then to disturb the rest of fallen leaves with his nose and break them apart with his mighty hooves and back.
Amidst his activity, the presence of another caught his attention. He froze. He recognized this scent. The moon girl. The one her rump upon his former woman. The boar snorted, blowing leaves every which way. What could she possibly want? Maybe a divine had come through these parts, doing every sort of weird thing. But this one in particular peaked his interest. Not so much as to what she could be doing, but it gave him a chance to reconcile…”past misdeeds”.
And so the boar sunk into the earth, crashing his hooves against rock and anhailiating it until he reached the peak of the World Mountain. Earth shifted and Boris poked his head out of his hole, ignoring the sword and gazing at the god.
”Hello you.”
Gibbou jumped with a ‘waaah!’ and fell backwards off her rock, kicking her legs all around as she struggled to get back up from the snow. It took a few good seconds before she regained her posture and redeposited herself upon the rock. There, she attempted to assume a majestic, formal pose with a raised chin and a partially squinted look, almost as if she was looking down at him. “Hello, mister Boris,” she said curtly. She then looked around, twisting her neck an unbalanced angle further right than left, challenging the seriousness of her composure. “Nice place.”
The boar snorted. ”Thank you. What brings you here? I hope you brought snacks.” Boris intoned curtly.
“Oh, uh, yeah, hang on…” With the snap of her fingers, Gibbou conjured forth a tray of blueberry muffins. She willed the snow between them to pack itself into a table, pulled her stone seat over and leaned her elbows on the table, propping her chin on her two hands. She hardened her squint at the pig and voiced with a mouth hidden behind intertwined fingers, “The muffins are fresh. Baked them just now. Go on… Have a taste.” She punctuated her sentence with a raised brow.
Delighted, Boris dug himself out of his hole and plopped his rump in the cold snow, his body large enough to reach the table. Clumsily, he craned his neck to take a muffin into his gullet and chew. Blueberries exploded in his mouth and Boris’ eyes widened. ”Ohhhhhhhrrrr…how did you know I loved blueberries!?” he bleated between mouthfuls.
“Call it… Intuition,” Gibbou replied, her right eye squinting to the point where it was almost closed. Her voice put on a certain odd wheeze and she took a muffin for herself, biting into it with cold, calculating snaps. She drew a breath through the teeth and clicked her tongue. “Listen, I’ll be straight wit’ch’yu, mister Boris - I’ve a lil’ proposal for ya.”
”Mmmhmmmm.” he hummed, swallowing another muffin.
She extracted the horn and put it discreetly on the table, looking over her shoulders as if someone who definitely wasn’t there was watching them. “This is the ‘package’ - it needs a blessing from the mountains. You in?”
Saucers of white fire became rivers as the Boar’s eyes narrowed.The thing reeked of divinity. ”You ought to explain.”
“Sure, I owe you that much, I can see that.” The stone Gibbou was sitting on formed a chair-like back which she leaned against and crossed one leg with the other. “This is Hir, the druid maker. It’s a tool me and my sister made to help mortality protect themselves. Using it, mortals can summon miracles in our names to do wonders so we won’t have to. Of course, their power is dependent on our willingness to help them - this is why these ‘druids’, as I call them, will piously work to show they are worthy of this help. I used the example of taking care of groves for Mister Tree, but for mountains, uh… Stop exploitative quarries, I suppose?”
If the mountainsmith could laugh, it would sound sort of like a boulder crushing a howling monkey. Such was the sound the boar made. ”In return for my blessings, thinking-things will love and protect my crafts? A fair trade.” the boar affirmed.
“I knew you’d see it my way, mister Boris.” Seeing as the sun was coming up, Gibbou snapped into reality a pair of disks fashioned from black glass, held together by strings of metal. She deposited the central metal string, which was slightly curved, over her nose, and wrapped the others behind her ears. “Please, if you would offer it its blessing,” she said and gestured at Hir.
The boar nodded, and summoned from the depths of the earth a great energy. The mountain quaked, and the foundations of Galbar twisted under the weight of the mountainsmith’s power. And granting himself the power of the world, the realm of Actuality folded upon itself, and from the depths of his throat he hacked and coughed and spit a loogie the size of a pea upon the horn. And all stilled.
”Be sure to rub it in now.”
A frown formed behind the glasses. “Do, do I have to? Caaa-, can’t you do it?”
Boris tilted his head. ”Hooves.” he said flatly.
There came a groan, followed by surly mutters as the moon goddess flexed every muscle in her face and started rubbing the ‘blessing’ all over the horn, releasing quiet squeals of displeasure every now and then.
The boar nodded. It was done. ”The blessing of the mountain is yours.”
In the hands of a god the small increase in weight would go unnoticed, but the spirit of the mountain had been imbued in the artifact.
Gibbou washed her hands thoroughly with the ice cold snow, sobbing dryly a “boo-hoo” to show that she felt sorry for herself. She took the horn, tied it to her belt and eyed Boris where he sat. “Know that this only accounts for -half- an apology for what you did to my moon!” she scolded with the point of a finger. “I won’t forgive you that easily!”
”Hath no mercy? She has long forgiven me. You need plenty of healing time.” Boris surmised. She and Moon were nothing alike honestly.
“Has not! She, she would’ve told me if she had!” She looked up at the moon, which was retreating away from the scene over the horizon. “You would, wouldn’t you?!” The moon gave no answer and dipped into hiding behind Galbar. Gibbou was stunned. “You, you cheater!”
A gaze followed the moon. ”O Moon, O Moon, fair and sweet and soft like milk, forgive your keeper. She doesn’t mean it.”
Gibbou sucked in a breath through the nose and pointed at the boar once more. “This isn’t over, mister Boris! I, I’ll be back - and we’ll settle this score once and for all!” With that, she squatted down and jumped, soaring westwards with great speed to outrun the sunrise.
”Farewell.” the boar intoned. Noticing a untouched muffin left over, Boris dove and snapped the thing into his gullet. Divine.
Gibbou boutta grab that last blessing, then suddenly starts wondering how long she’s been gone from Adrian and the rest. Generations? Anxiety overtakes her, but she quickly remembers her mission again and flies to the Anchor top. There, ignoring the sword in the background, she waits for pig. Pig appears. They eat blueberry muffins and Pig spits on the horn to bless it, making Gibbou rub the spit all over it. Gib then goes from mobster to tsundere and I don’t even know what we were writing anymore. The end.
Gibbou had to admit that she was enjoying this little quest of seeking out her colleagues and asking them to join in her little project. It was nice - nice to meet new faces, get to know them a bit better, and then gauge their cooperative nature from the get-go. She grew giddy from the thought that so many of her friends had shown their interest for Hir and the powers it could provide. Oh, she couldn’t wait to show it off to Adrian and the rest once she could make her way back to…
Huh. What was that land actually called? She hadn’t heard anyone actually refer to the land itself as anything special. Not even the elves had given it a specific same, as far as she knew.
She sighed and put on a smug smirk - my, she had to do a lot of things today, huh? She spun around and pointed at the distant specks of land that constituted the eastmost island of those desert-covered, yet also oddly forested, lands. “Hark at me, great clump of, uh, dirt!” she yelled proudly as though imitating Klaar. “Your name, as well as the names of all your island friends - no, comrades! - shall be Mydia!” She paused to taste the word. “Yes! Mydia - the land of deserts, forests and buffalo! Oh, and elves, of course!”
With that out of the way, she flew ever closer to the tree, which by now was clogging up her entire horizon with its mammoth trunk. There was no real way of describing just how large this tree was. It far exceeded the very meaning of the word “large”, yet no other word existed that could adequately capture the very size of this tree. It had to be a god, or at the very least something tightly connected to whomever was responsible for the plants. Gibbou flew over to a rather empty spot on the trunk facing the great sea and spoke, “Hello? Mister tree? I’m Gibbou, goddess of the moon! I was wondering if you had a minute to chat?”
There was some creaking and grunting from behind the bark of the Tree, followed by panting. Then, from an opening in the trunk just a few meters above Gibbou, a wooden face with a crown of wooden horns and two black eyes peeked out.
”Gibbou, Mistress of the Moon. I am the First Voice, The Great Tree graced me with some knowledge about you. You’re the second born, aren’t you? What does someone of such a high stature want to talk about?” The Voice Looked down at the barely visible ground, and then at Gibbou and nodded. ”Would you like to come inside the Tree? Or perhaps you enjoy the-” A strong wind crashed against the trunk of the tree and nearly blew the Voice back inside. ”... the breeze?” It finished with a huff and disheveled leaves.
Gibbou floated a few feet with the wind and soared back to where she had been previously. “Hi! Good point - where’s the entrance?”
The Voice patted the rim of the opening from which he was peeking out. ”It’s not grandiose like most of the entrances on the lower levels, but I believe this should be an acceptable way inside, if a bit tight.”
Gibbou nodded. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot!” With a bubbly hum, she flew over to the chink in the wood bark and squeezed inside, muttering angrily about ‘those damn berries’ on the way. As soon as she was inside, she noticed that the current level the Voice was in, the level she had entered, was rather dark. Almost no openings led to the outside and therefore only a little bit of sunlight reached inside. Instead, the whole area was lit up by all manner of bioluminescent flora. Both immobile and mobile, these plants all seemed to form a whole ecosystem. There were even mushrooms with strange shapes and scents, and fragrantic flowers and herbs strewn about.
When Gibbou set her feet on the mossy ground, vines grew against her skin and stopped at the calves, then their little buds bloomed into bright orange flowers and blew out clouds of pollen. The goddess squeezed silent a giggle as the undergrowth tickled her feet.
The Voice looked at the Goddess, having stepped back, and nodded once more. ”So, what is it you seek here, Mistress Gibbou?”
Gibbou took a second to completely swallow her laughter. “R-right!” She nipped the horn from her hip and held it up to the voice. “I’ll try to be brief. First of all, beautiful place you have here. I love the mushrooms, especially. This here is Hir, an artifact me and my sister created in order to let mortals perform miracles in our names, provided they can be nice and pious otherwise. To you, if you would like to join in on this project, it would mean that the users of this magic would keep your groves clean and healthy in hopes that you will one day return the favour when they need it the most! Sounds like a good deal, right?”
The Voice place a hand over his mouth in thought, and looked up at the ceiling covered in bright vines simulating a wild worldsong. After a moment, he let his hand fall back to his side and nodded. ”The Tree of Genesis seems to like the image of the peoples of the world taking care of their green little groves...” He agreed and as he did so, a small flexible tendril of wood broke away from the floor and coiled itself around the Voice’s wrist, then pulled. The Voice hummed and sat down cross legged on the floor as a similar tendril coiled itself around Gibbou’s wrist. ”So… What exactly do you want the Great Tree to do for you?”
“Just a few words of blessing and well-wishes, as well as Mister Tree’s consent to let users of Hir perform great miracles in their name - nothing much, but Mister Klaar filled it with seawater.” She paused and frowned at the horn. “I’m not sure how he did it, but, well, you can try whatever feels natural to you. The goal’s just that the users’ll be, uh, infused with your power - is that the right word? Yeah, infused!” She glanced down at the tendril around her wrist and politely tried to pull her wrist to herself, which snapped the tendril innocent little tendril in half.
The Voice closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. After a moment of silence, a bigger root came up to grab Hir, running itself all over the item, feeling every irregularity and every possibility hidden inside it. It was then that the root gingerly placed Hir on the uneven ground, a little bit of seawater leaking from the horn… And several different kinds of miniature vines with blooming flowers growing from them wrapped around the artifact, followed by a short flash of light and a dimming in all the bioluminescent flora present on the level.
Of course, the sudden darkness was short-lived, as the natural lights came back in force as soon as another breeze hit the Tree.
The Voice then opened his eyes and looked at Hir, a smile finding its way to his face. ”It seems, as long as those vines are alive, the vessel shall do the Wonders of Genesis.” It seemed like all was done. And yet, this bigger root that had taken Hir and aided in its blessing, eagerly slithered its way over to Gibbou and softly coiled itself around her wrist and palm. ”I have to say I’m relieved you’re this pleasant, Mistress Gibbou… I, uh, haven’t had the greatest meeting with Gods. I’m sure the Great Tree feels the same way.”
Gibbou gratefully accepted the horn and hunt it from the rim of her pantaloons. “Oh? What other gods have you met that have been so mean? Also, which vines’re you referring to? These?” She pointed at the vines now growing on the horn.
The Voice nodded once more, ”Yes, those vines. They may burn or wither due to disease, but you may visit these grounds and have the Great Tree replace them. The blessing is only active when there’s those small vines on Hir, you see. As for the other Gods, I believe it is better to keep those details secret. Incredible, how the world was on the verge of being destroyed and no one paid a second glance to it...”
Gibbou swallowed. “That’s, uh, it’s good that it didn’t happen, at least! Look, if you eeeeever need someone to talk to when it comes to gods being mean or rude or impolite or all of the above, just wave at the moon, alright? I’ll come down to say hello.” She squatted down and patted a small mushroom affectionately, which seemed to glow more intensely in response. “Thanks for the blessing, by the way!”
”I will keep that in mind. But I fear if I get in such a position I may not last long enough to wave at the Moon. I’m powerless against Gods, after all.” The Voice said with a chuckle. ”And now I will make my way down to the ground level.” The Voice grunted as it stood up and then began walking off into the darker part of the level, were a large spiral ramp was located. ”If you need anything else be sure to visit, Mistress Gibbou. I’m sure the Tree of Genesis will be happy to accomodate you.”
“Oh, I see… You’re mortal.” She huffed somberly. “I hope the Tree can change that for you,” she said with a smile and headed back through the crack in the bark and onwards.
Gib visits tree. Voice lets her inside. Tree blesses artifact with powerz. Gib leaves.
Oh yeah, and she names Toastland Mydia from now on.
Tree of Genesis 5 MP - 3 DP 1 MP - Add title: Wonder of Genesis I: Grants users of Hir the power to manipulate plants and plant life in accordance with the requirements of druidism. 4 MP - 3 DP Remaining
With a sonic boom, Gibbou broke into the atmosphere, marvelling at the beautiful lights all around, dancing like living brush strokes being painted across the canvas of the heavens. It looked similar to that odd stream of magic that had encapsulated her moon that one time, and she almost forgot her whole reason for returning to Galbar. A little bump against her left thigh sent her look downwards, where Hir was dangling from a strap tied to the rim of her pants. She snapped her fingers and went, “Oh, right!” and kept descending. She scanned the oceans thoroughly, mumbling “Klaar, Klaar, Klaar…” to herself. Eventually, floating some distance east of the Kubrazjar continent, she drew a deep breath and yelled, “HEY, MISTER KLAAAAAAR!”
The waters around Gibbou remained placid for some time after her initial yell, the sound echoing across the ocean in all directions. She sighed and dove a little closer to the surface. Hovering a few inches over the surface, she dipped her head underneath and repeated her shout, hoping that the water would carry her voice better than the air.
Just below Gibbou a fleshlet, no larger than a balled fist, plopped into existence. The little mass of meat thumped like a heart, squiggling and squirming violently. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, it began to expand. In all directions the meat-polyp blossomed, flowing out into a vast shape of considerable size. Eyes formed, huge and staring, as the multi-kilometer diameter form of Klaarungraxus formed itself below Gibbou. Eyes, previously gazing with empty stares in random directions, circled up and centered themselves to point at Gibbou. With that, the waters shook with the Deepspeak voice of Klaarungraxus.
”Ahhh, little moon, below and above in equal shares,” Klaarungraxus rose from the depths as he spoke, eyes surfacing to observe Gibbou in her own environment, ”Multitudinous expressions of regret for this time left wanting, Gibbou Rux, your soft reflection lit by moon most yearned for. Calm tides and gentle currents, Gibbou of the One-Good-Orb; what calls my name in your heart’s yen?”
“Hello there, mister Klaar - and a wonderfully good evening to you, too! Don’t you worry - you didn’t waste a second of my time.” She flew in a little closer to one of Klaar’s humongous eyes. “Waiting for someone as nice as you is always worth it,” she praised and cracked a smile.
Klaar stared up at Gibbou before wriggling two unsubmerged tentacles in response to the goddess’ kindly praises. It was not particularly understood by Klaarungraxus, for the concepts of niceties were often wasted upon him, but nevertheless the great god of the oceans deep could understand when he was being flattered. The tides calmed and gentled around his huge form as he sat there, treading water, as Gibbou stared into one of his immense, glowing eyeballs.
”Feelings of mutuality abound, Moonlit Face of Bright Smiles. Now, elucidate my minds as to your presence; though, no reason is needed. If the Moon-On-High seeks to offer her presence freely, who would deny such a fetching glow?” Klaar was sure he was getting good at this flattering thing.
The plum-skinned girl giggled to herself. “I would have gladly stopped by to say hi, but I just so happen to have another thing with me here - a teeny little project of mine.” She presented Hir with a proud grin. “Care to listen for a bit?”
Klaar leaned inwards, his eye seemingly pushing out from its socket to observe the horn with great interest. The power that danced along its edges in the divine vision of the great devilfish spoke a story about the item that only drew Klaarungraxus in further. What secrets did it hide beneath its humble exterior?
”What hath you borne to my watery abode, Gibbou? Does it sing? I would hear its sonorous cries, if it can.”
“Sadly not,” she confessed with a hung head. “But I should add a song function to it! Thanks for the pitch! Now, this here iiiiiis Hir, an artifact that grants certain mortals the power to perform miracles! Our kinds of miracles! Without us even doing anything! Doesn’t that sound awesome?”
Klaar seemed to be confused by the function of the artifact thrust before him. His eyes peered deep into the object, as if they were mapping its design in some deep pocket of the huge cephalopod’s mind. Nevertheless, the lack of its ability to speak and make noise as disappointment quickly dissipated. An object that can unleash miracles, particularly those ascribed to Klaarungraxus, must certainly be a fascinating one indeed.
”Awe hath struck me deeply, aye, for storm clouds brew in distant thoughts. Miracles, miraculous, of our own making? Explain further, Gibbou Rux, for my boundless curiosity is not yet sated. What mean thee by miracles sans we?”
“Oh, y’know - say, uh… Hang on… Oh yeah! Say a user of this artifact wanted to, uh, call in a larger school of fish to their village’s shores than usual - they’d be really nice to the oceans, clean beaches, punish overfishers. In return, they get to perform a miracle with your approval for their good behaviour - and all we have to do is nod and give them a thumbs-up, or, uh… A tent-up-le? ‘Course, if they’re not being nice to the oceans, you can just remove their power over it - no problem. Oh, shoot, did I forget to tell Sirius? Ooooh no…”
While Gibbou began to worry about telling Sirius, Klaar’s thoughts turned to other things. Miracles were an interesting concept and not one he’d ever put too much consideration into. Nevertheless, the potential for an entire species to learn of the ocean’s greatness was without precedent when they could directly gain from him in its service. Vo would teem with more than just life if such a thing existed.
”Warm summer rains on cool waters, Maiden-Moon, for this piques interest of most many-minds. I would offer my potency in this matter, for what is the world of miracles without the sea?”
Gibbou snapped back into focus. “Yes! My thoughts exactly! Here, give it your blessing.” She offered Klaar the horn.
Klaar lifted the Hir to his gaze, two forward tentacles gently holding it in their grip. A fascinating little object and one with considerable power born within, soon to contain even more. Ideal, he thought, for such a function. With that Klaarungraxus leaned forward to peer over the little horn, his beak opening ominously. All of a sudden a vast tide of darkness, seemingly from the deepest depths of the sea, vomited out from Klaar’s beak to envelop the Hir. The cloud seemed to suck inwards, pulling to one point as the ocean dove into the item. Across the world, as difficult as it would be to notice, the sea levels dropped an entire inch.
Klaar looked pleased upon his work. ”Truly consummate in its craft, Gibbou Rux. Honored am I to partake in its birth.”
“Yay!” Gibbou celebrated, retrieved the item and weighed it in her hands. “Woah… It’s still so light! Perfect.” She restrung it to where her belt would have been and hugged the nearest tentacle she could see. “N’aaw, thank you, you amazing, big, amazingly big cephalopod!”
”A welcome distraction from numerous endeavors, Maiden-Moon. May thee have success in further efforts, miraculous or otherwise. Waters keep you wise, Gibbou Rux, and may your One-Good-Orb keep high in the sky. With that Klaar descended back into the waves, one tentacle wriggling a goodbye wave before plopping underneath the waters. The placidity of the surface belied the massive entity that had, only moments ago, resided there.
Gibbou, still floating lethargically in mid-air, produced a list of coal-black paper out of nothing and ticked a box next to the label “My favourite squid” with a white crayon. She eyed the following name on the list and hummed.
“‘Whoever controls the plants’...” she mumbled to herself. “Shoot, I should’ve asked Klaar if he knows…” She floated slowly eastwards, scratching her head furiously as she scanned the lands of Galbar. On the way, she stopped on the neat little islands where she had created the night elves. Finding them still a bit too barren for her liking, she put camels, reptiles and beetles in all the drylands, and made sure the islands were rich with grazers and predators to take them on - buffalo would roam the canyons and be preyed upon by black, white-striped tigers in the night. She also made sure insects and mollusks were abundant in the more humid areas, and made plenty of bats and small birds to eat them. Then she stopped and thought to herself, Maaaaybe… What if I made -more- guardians? Something that can keep watch over the whole world?!. And so she jumped over to a hollow tree, stuck her hand inside and pulled out an owl egg. The mother soared down and pecked wildly at her.
“A-ow! Ow! Hey! Your kid’ll do great things, lady, and-- ow!” Gibbou eventually had to retreat, but she still had the egg in her possession. She found herself a nice little butte to stand on as she worked her magic. She ran her index finger along the top of the egg, as if drawing a mental image of where to hit it with a spoon to crack it open. She whispered to the life inside of it, promising greatness for them and their offspring for all eternity as the sentries of the moon. She then placed the egg down on the ground and waited.
It didn’t take too long - a mere hour later, the egg hatched, revealing a white-faced owl chick with feathers black as night and eyes glowing like the moon. Gibbou giggled. “N’aaaw, you’re such a cutie. Here, have a snack.” She conjured forth a dead mouse and offered it to the owl. The owl chick saw it and immediately scarfed it down. Then it grew - it grew terribly fast. Gibbou nearly rolled back as the owl chick became the size of its mother within fifteen minutes of hatching - and it didn’t stop there. Before long, it was twice as tall as Gibbou, covered in thick, black feathers and with dancing, white light dancing around its eyes like a magical fog. It eyed Gibbou curiously - the goddess was stunned.
“Sister, you grew fast. What did I put in that mouse?” She stood up and scratched her head. “Or more importantly, what did I actually say to your egg?” She gave the last hour and a half a rough reflection and tried to recount as much of what she had said as possible.
“... and as the moon cycles across the world, so shall you patrol it from birth to death, over and over…” She eyed the owl again, which now was pruning its feathers. She eyed the moon, which was approaching a waning gibbous, and snapped her fingers, drawing the owl’s attention by accident. “Of course! Your lifespan is tied to the phases of the moon!” She thought about this for a second. “Oh, sister, your lifespan is tied to the phases of the moon!” With budding tears in her eyes, she gave the owl a weeping hug. It stared down at her sheepishly. “I’M SOOOORRRYYYY!” Gibbou wept into its dowy belly and rubbed her moist face all over. “I’ve given-sniff!- given, given you such a short life and, and, and… Oh, I’m sorry!”
The owl looked visibly uncomfortable, pushed gently at Gibbou with its wings and soon took to the sky. Out of the clouds above, more soon joined it, and it seemed to soar off in the different directions of the world. Gibbou stood alone on the butte.
“Come baaaack,” she sobbed quietly.
After sulking for half a day, she eventually remembered her mission and set off again, flying eastwards scanning the lands. She kept going until a certain fuzzy pillar spiked the sky like a leafy spear. Gibbou stopped and stared at the enormous tree so violently appearing in the middle of an empty horizon. She materialised her list and eyed the description - whoever controls plants. She eyed the tree again.
“HOW HAVE I NOT NOTICED THAT BEFORE?!”
Gibbou goes to get Klaar to bless the druid artifact. They meet, he blesses, all is gucci. Forgetting to ask what the plant god looks like, Gibbou flies aimlessly due east. She stops in Toastland to make some more life there (see MP sum), as well as the Owlix, which is now all over (migratory birds ftw). Finally, she spots Big tree and wonders how the fuck she has 20/20 vision. The end.
Starto: Gibbou - 1MP/1DP
0MP - Fill Toastland with more life, this including more insects like moths and beetles, more small night animals like bats. The canyons are now full of buffalo and the apex predator of the deep canyons are now black tigers with white stripes.
1DP, discounted to 0DP with Moon portfolio - Create extraordinary life: The Owlix: An enormous owl species which lives, dies and is reborn with the phases of the moon - being born as a chick on the new moon, growing to their mightiest on the full moon, and dying again at the next new moon. Live all across Galbar and hunt in the night.
As usual for a night elven worknight, it was terribly, terribly dark out. Seeing as it was also overcast, neither the stars nor moon offered much in terms of guiding light, so even several elves struggled to properly see what they were doing. As a result, many performed their tasks louder than usual to signal their position to the others who carefully maneuvered through the darkness. Rozmari was doing her very best to pluck apart mushrooms for stew - it was luckily a job reliant mostly on her fingers and hands, but it was difficult to see firstly, where she had put the basket she actually stored the mushrooms in, and secondly, where she had put the sharkskin bag she was supposed to store the bits in. She was pretty certain she dropped most of the mushroom crumbs on the ground at this point. Put off by her own clumsiness at work, she decided she had pulverised enough fungi, patted the ground for the sharkskin bag, found it and lifted it up. The unmistakable sound of spongy objects rolling onto the stone below sent a pulse of rage through her. She grabbed a handful and lobbed them at the wall - or at least, what she thought was the wall.
“That was unnecessary,” came a murky whisper. Rozmari froze.
“O-oh, dear. Cilantra, I didn’t mean to, I--!”
A huff silenced her apologies and the huntress made her way over as evidenced by the approaching soft slaps of skin against stone. She bumped gently into Rozmari to signal that she was next to her and began patting at the floor in search of the spilled mushrooms. Defeatedly, Rozmari joined in.
“What has you upset, Roz?”
Rozmari smacked her lips as if she was about to answer, but then remained silent, continuing to pick.
“Hey, you know you can talk to me about stuff.”
“Yeah, but… Ugh, I don’t know, it’s dumb…”
“It’s about Parslie, isn’t it?”
The subsequent blush nearby increased the temperature of the air and Cilantra snickered softly. The huntress offered her a pat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you two just, I don’t know… Y’know…”
“I couldn’t do that! He only has eyes for Bay and you know it!” Rozmari almost spoke with her voice, and Cilantra recoiled.
“Woah, alright, alright - I won’t pry.” They sat in silence for a minute. Cilantra then made a shrug that bumped into Rozmari. “Althooouuugh… Why don’t you get him something? Something really nice - y’know, so he’ll get eyes for you, too.”
“As if… What is there around here but… Sand and, and, and landsharks.”
“Well, to be fair--”
“You know what I mean,” Rozmari complained and picked up the last of the spongey mushroom bits. She packed the sharkskin properly together and bound it with a length of sinew. As she got up, Cilantra placed her hand on her shoulder again. “What?”
“Listen - you shouldn’t give up so easily, y’know. How about you go for a little treasure hunt through the canyon, hmm? I reckon it’ll still be a while until sunrise. You could even bring someone along - have them appraise whatever you find so you know it’ll be good.”
“Who would I even bring? What does Parslie even like?”
“Oh, I’m sure he likes loads of things. As for who, uhm…” An approaching pair of feet made both of them turn and sniff the air. Cilantra sparked a grin and reached out to pat the approaching elf. “Hey, Basil! Want to join Rozmari on a treasure hunt?”
"Oh?" Came Basil's voice, "Are you sure you'd want to bring me?"
Cilantra turned the pat into an amiable squeeze of the shoulder and hummed approvingly. “Yeah! It could do you some good, too - you haven’t had much of a chance to just go exploring for a while, now have you?”
"I'm just surprised is all," Basil replied, "I know the others have been putting distance between themselves and me since... Well you know."
“Well, frankly, I’d like for that to change. You’re as much a part of our tribe as anyone else, Basil - and I know Rozmari agrees. Ain’t that right, Roz?” The other elf didn’t respond, the faint sheen in her shining eyes indicating that she was, in fact, looking away. Cilantra drew an angry breath through the nose and stabbed an elbow at Rozmari, inciting a louder-than-expected cough from her.
“Ow! Yeah, sure, whatever.”
Cilantra hissed disapprovingly, but turned back to Basil with smiling eyes. “So, what do you think?”
Basil gave a hesitant pause before a slow, "Sure, what are we looking for?"
“Just, I dunno, something nice, I suppose--”
“Roz here has a bit of a crush on someone -reeeaal- special, and she wants to get him something nice.”
“Cila--! Ugh!”
Cilantra giggled to herself. “Y’know - something pleasing to the ears or nose. Maybe even the touch. Ooo, if you find, like, a soft animal or something, could you bring that back for me, too?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Rozmari retorted sourly.
Basil popped out of her thinking, "Wait who are we getting this for, exactly?" She turned to Rozmari, "It could help us decide on what to get."
“Go on, Roz, tell her,” Cilantra encouraged.
“What? No, I--... Ugh… It’s for Parslie…”
"Ha!" Basil covered her mouth, "I mean, really? That's so... Nice."
“Just… Let’s just go,” Rozmari decided and stomped off. Cilantra gave a low whistle.
“Hope I’m not giving you lots of trouble now…”
"Compared to the other troubles, finding a pretty stone with a grumpy elf isn't so bad," Basil crossed her arms confidently. Cilantra giggled and patted her back gently.
“I knew we could count on you. See if you can find something fragrant. Parslie does have a sensitive nose.”
Further down the canyons, glowing mushrooms and more open spaces made it easier to see, and the duo could to a greater degree rely on their eyes to see where they were going. Above them, owls hooted in the trees and bats wheezed softly at one another as they snapped up unfortunate moths in the shadows. Feline eyes twinkled in the bushes, and critters would sprint in front or behind them every now and then. Occasionally, the trickle of water would signal a nearby beck, and the changes in sensations under the feet revealed every kind of biome from gravel to grassland to forest. Rozmari held the lead, walking quietly for the most part except for the odd groan every now and then.
"Is there a problem?" Basil said in that stoic if not stern tone she was known for.
Rozmari offered another groan. “No, it’s just…” She paused. “Ugh, nevermind.”
"Well now you have to tell me," Basil offered, "You already started."
“It’s just… Why? Why am I doing this? Parslie’s already practically married to Bay - or, well, kinda. Either way, this is all just-...” She punted a nearby stone into a small creek. “Just a waste of time.” She blinked at Basil before putting on a frown. “But what would you know…”
Basil gave a defensive scowl, "What's that supposed to mean?"
“We both know what I mean, prophet. Tell me, do you have any experience with these kinds of emotions? Or does that thing inside you make you as cold and merciless as it is?”
Basil's eyes widened with hurt before settling into a biting scowl, "Just because I don't want to hump the first gravel face that smiles at me doesn't make me cold." She huffed, a hot snap entering her words, "Find your own damn rock, I don't need this." Basil went to turn around.
Rozmari gasped. “That’s just uncalled for!” she nearly yelled, scaring off several nearby bats. “You’re-... You’re just jealous because nobody likes you!”
Basil flinched, frozen in her retreat. She turned, moon colored eyes stained a frustrated pink, "People like me!" She mulled for a moment, "Bitch!" The execution was weak.
Rozmari scoffed. “Can’t even call me names correctly, can you? Just face it, Basil… You’re a looney, aaand nobody likes you.” She spun on her heel and continued forward. “Have fun walking home alone.”
"Fine!" Basil barked, "I don't need yoooou." Huffing and purple faced, she began her trek back, brow sunken. She angrily kicked nearby rocks as she walked, mumbling about her various sacrifices.
She kicked many rocks. It was no surprise to Basil that rustling came from under one of the abused rocks -- After all, many critters made their homes below the rocks. What was a surprise however was the way the wind suddenly filled with the wafting scent of mint, filling her nostrils and tempting her to find its source.
She knelt down, sniffing comically and spinning in a dizzy circle, "Where... Are... Yoooouuu-ah!"
Her ankle twisted and she rolled to the ground, head bumping off a pillow of moss. She went cross-eyed as her vision narrowed in on a tiny white flower with long yellow pistils and a thick stem for its size.
The tiny flower twitched and turned itself toward Basil’s nose. Then, after shuddering a little, its marble white petals closed around its pistils and a thin cloud of mist shot out of the flower, right at Basil’s face. It smelled strongly of fresh mint.
"PFBT," Basil sneezed. Her nose dripped and she sat up to wipe it. With her clean hand she sent down a finger and poked the tiny plant. It twitched and shrunk a little, protecting its pistils with its petals.
Basil gave out a thoughtful hum and looked around her for more, seeing the faint shapes of a handful more even in the dark of the night, of different colours and sizes, growing from inbetween rocks and gravel.
Grabbing a stick, Basil set to work digging around the first tiny flowers' roots until she had a loose clump of soil with the flower on top. Happy with her prize, Basil rose to her feet and set off into the darkness for the camp.
Already long before Basil had made it back to camp had the strange, yet alluring smell attracted the majority of the villagers. They gathered in a small huddle in front of the main cave, whispering and discussing what the source of this scent could be. It didn’t take long from the fragrance to be tracked to Basil, and Cilantra pushed herself gently to the front of the crowd, backed up by a white-haired elderly man Basil knew well as chief Pinae. Cilantra offered a smile which in itself was completely invisible in the dark, though her eyes revealed it clear as day.
“Basil, you’re back!” she whispered joyously. “What did you bring home? It smells… Oh, by the gods, what is that?”
"It's a flower," Basil recited and held forward the flower. She had taken the walk as an opportunity to spin the discovery in her ongoing plans' favor and with a refreshed voice she continued, "A gift from a god, no doubt."
Cilantra and some others leaned in around it. “Oh, this smell. It’s, it’s just wonderful! Chieftain Pinae, come smell this.”
The chieftain, leaning partially on a walking stick with a dog skull fastened to its head, made his way over slowly and gave the flower a whiff. He hummed approvingly and whispered, “This scent… It stings, yet it cleanses me through and through - there is something divine to it, for certain. Dyll, Time, would the two of you help Basil here dig an appropriate hole for her treasure over by the becks? This flower will be a relic of our village - to be tended to every night as though it was a pet!” He raised his stick authoritatively to punctuate his sentence. What seemed to be small rocks within the cavity of the skull produced a maracas-like sound. Dyll and Time immediately jogged over to the beck to begin their work. Pinae placed a warm hand on Basil’s shoulder and squeezed, “Great job, young one,” he praised with a smile covered by darkness.
"Thank you," Basil's voice defaulted to its stoicness if not with a tinge of social unfamiliarity. She cleared her throat, "So... How's the... How's everything going? For the tribe." Her eyes bounced in the darkness while she stood holding the plant, "Chief?"
Pinae shrugged and scratched at his temple. “Oh, I would say we’re doing well, considering the circumstances. You know how it is - the ibex migrations don’t exactly make it easy to find grub anymore, but at least the cave mushrooms are growing bountifully this year. Some of the kids, too, they… They’ve been making light of the Great Peace. One was playing in the water in the middle of the day earlier. Must’a heard that, right?” As Pinae was talking, he and the rest of the tribe were guiding Basil towards the plant’s new hole in the ground.
"I wasn't here last day," Basil admitted, "but that does sound troublesome."
“Huh, that so? Were you out hunting?” the chieftain offered. “By the way, please plant your wonderful finding here.” He gestured down into the hole.
"No," Basil admitted again, gingerly placing the flower into its new home. She patted her hands and looked at the chief, eyes trying to avoid looking at the crowd, "there!"
As if on cue, the soil began to shift. Like snakes below their feet, the forms of several dozen tendrils became apparent as they snaked toward the lone flower. One by one, they surfaced and revealed themselves to be roots. Thick, writhing roots unlike anything they’d ever seen before. They creaked and strained, some of them covered in mud, others dripping saltwater, and many sporting the telltale signs of a root that had dug through stone for a long time.
One by one, they reached the flower and covered it. Suffocated it. Strangled it. When the flower was visible no longer, they began covering each other, intertwining in what could only be described as a hasty dash toward the center.
As they mixed and strangled each other, they grew still and solid. More and more roots came from under the elves’ feet and they all headed straight for the growing mass. In the end, they settled and what was left was a sight to behold.
A large Kapok tree, a species they’d never seen before in the canyons, suddenly dominated the area. Yet its leaves were different to any other. They were white, and each of them had a different scent.
“By the gods,” mumbled the chieftain and went over to a leaf. He plucked it and gave it a whiff, sighing contently afterwards. “It smells… Oh, it smells like Bay’s cooking.”
From behind him came Bay herself, rubbing her fingers over the leaf roughly and bringing her fingers to her nose. “Oh, wow, if you think my food smells this good, chieftain…” She offered a warm giggle.
Cilantra went over to smell the same leaf, bursting out into a laugh immediately thereafter. “Oh, my gods! It really does! Wow, how is this even possible?”
“I guess the leaves she puts in her stew carry similar fragrances,” offered Parslie, who was busily testing the scents of some of the lower branches, sighing happily with every breath. Chief Pinae dunked the butt of his stick into the ground. “Very well! It’s decided. This particular leaf shall be called, uh… Bay leaf.”
“Woah, fantastically original, chieftain,” mumbled Cilantra and went over to pat Basil on the back. “Hey. You doing okay?”
"I'm..." Basil's face took on a heavy concentration, "going to die a horrible death for this." She blinked rapidly and looked over at Cilantra, "Praise the gods, yeah?" With a gentle pat on Cilantra's back, Basil leaned in towards the chief. "Chieftain, I think it is in our best interest to show our gratitude towards such a blessing by giving open thanks to its creator."
Chief Pinae blinked back before nodding. “A fine idea, Basil. We must pay our greatest respects to the creator of this artwork. The, the, the…” He hummed pensively to himself. “... The Roots of Fragrance!”
“The Roots of Fragrance?” Cilantra questioned.
“The Roots of Fragrance,” the chieftain confirmed proudly. “A fine name for a god, yes?”
"The Supreme Giver," Basil encouraged, "The Roots of our Spice, the Roots of Fragrance." A shiver ran down her spine as she gave a confirming nod to the chieftain, "So says."
“So… Any of those?” Parslie spoke as he broke into the conversation.
“Why not?” Basil crossed her arms.
“Hmm? No, I meant it as in, which of those sounds the best. I do like the Roots of Fragrance, personally,” Parslie whispered confidently.
“I dunno… Supreme Giver sounds more divine. I’m sure the god would find that more pleasing,” Cilantra pointed out.
“Could do both,” Basil offered, “One after the other.”
“Roots of Fragrance, the Supreme Giver?” Bay offered midway through making a little laurel out of bay leaf branches.
“Ooooh, I like that,” mumbled Cilanta approvingly. “Chieftain, I think we have a winner.”
“Wuh? Oh! Right!” Chief Pinae had occupied himself with sampling the lemongrass branches and hastily returned to the conversation. “Yes, what were we talking about?”
“Names for this generous god, of course!”
“Our generous god,” Basil corrected, “Our.”
“Right, -our- generous god. ‘Pologies.”
The chieftain nodded sagely. “Yes - we agreed ooooon… The, uhm… The name?”
“Roots of Fragrance, the Supreme Giver,” Cilantra said helpfully. The chieftain nodded.
“Mhm, mhm. A mouthful, but what is a holy ritual without a long chant?” joked the chieftain and scratched his chin. “Say, Basil, since you found it…”
The Roots of Fragrance seemed to swell for a moment, and then the Gift shrunk and exhaled a large cloud of spores. They seemed to hang midair for a moment, glistening against the occasional ray of moonlight that they could catch in that overcast night. And then, they settled on the ground all around the Gift, and where they settled, herbs soon started to grow. Fragrant herbs, suitable for exquisite and exotic cooking. Herbs they had never seen, or touched, or smelled before.
Maybe it was the Gift’s way of expressing its excitement for chanting?
The crowd clapped their hands excitedly and whispered joyously their praises to the Roots of Fragrance and the Supreme Giver for the fantastic smells enriching their simple camp.
Several hours later, far past early dawn, a sweaty and exhausted Rozmari returned to the camp, her hair a mess beyond compare and the sheen almost completely gone from her eyes. In her roughed-up hands, she held a collection of small, white stones which almost seemed to carry a certain glow in the darkness - or, well, what remained of it. She dragged her feet into the cave and collapsed onto whatever free space was left on the many communal animal skins laid out on the ground to sleep on. Several other elves were already fast asleep, hiding from the sun inside their deep and safe cave.
Sitting up against the wall beside her a sleepless Adrian was picking at his teeth with a piece of dried grass. He eyed the ragged elf and casually walked on over to her gathered stones. Slapping one with an open palm he grinned, “For me?”
Rozmari jumped a little with a quiet squeal and hoarded the stones to herself defensively. “No, they’re, they’re for someone else,” she whispered as quietly as she could so that Adrian could hear and her kin wouldn’t wake up.
“You never get me anything,” Adrian teased and crossed his arms -- a playful glint trapped in his eyes.
Rozmari muttered quietly to herself before taking in some drags of the unfamiliar scents about the village. “What, where’s that smell coming from?”
“Oh,” Adrian sniffed about, “Basil found a piece of a god, brought it home -- makes pleasant plants.” He flicked the grass stem away, “That’s the skinny of it at le-” A thought forced Adrian to pause. He cleared his throat, “It’s actually pretty important. You see, it is a new altar of worship for the tribe, declared by the chieftain himself.”
Rozmari couldn’t believe her over-sized ears. “Wait, Basil did what? A god? Altar of worship?!” Her outburst incited a slap from a nearby sleeper - or attempting sleeper now, most likely. Rozmari whinced and leaned even closer to Adrian. “Where did that little--... Where did she find it?”
Adrian racked his brain, “While out looking for gifts, I think -- for one of the tribespeople.”
Rozmari sank together into a ball on the fur, facing away from Adrian. With a frustrated, sobbing whisper, she muttered, “It’s not fair…”
Climbing onto her arm, Adrian whispered, “What’s not fair?”
“She just came along because she had to, then she was super annoying and then the gods decide that she deserved to come home with a super gift from heaven - like, who does she think she is?”
“Well she is a prophet,” Adrian offered, “I feel like that is her only real claim to fame around here, it fits.” The thumbling sat down, getting comfy, “Can I tell you a story?”
“... Is it to teach me a lesson?”
“I think so,” Adrian pinched his chin, “Or at the very least impart some sort of wisdom -- you see the elder back home would whip out a story whenever thinking needed to be done and he had no direct advice. It always worked, but then again -- I’m not the elder.”
Rozmari didn’t do much other than nod for Adrian to tell the story, adding a hum when she considered the thumbling might not be able to see her.
"Well okay," Adrian started, "So like there was... Okay so my sister Jenny used to..." Adrian waved a hand, "Ugh nevermind -- sometimes silence is all we need." He laid down -- still on her arm -- "Silence... Silence... Silence..."
Rozmari furrowed her brows. “That’s it?”
"I didn't think you were interested," Adrian folded his hands behind his head.
“Well, now I’m not so much,” she muttered back and made herself more comfortable.
"Well somebody is grumpy," Adrian teased.
“I am furious - now will you leave me alone, please?” came a hiss in reply.
“I guess I could,” Adrian’s hidden smile shrunk to a concerned grin, “if you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.”
"Well fine," Adrian scoffed and pulled Rozmari's sleeve like a blanket, settling into an awake silence. Rozmari rolled her star-like eyes before closing them, trying her best to drift off to sleep. She had suffered a terrible defeat today - and part of her felt like she was considerably at fault for doing so.
The Tree of Genesis 5 MP - 4 DP
0 DP Used to consecrate the Supreme Giver’s Gift, The Roots of Fragrance into a Holy Site, giving it the following Title: Herbal Haven II: The Roots of Fragrance will force all kinds of useful herbs to sprout around it once every week. The herbs that grow depend on two factors. Temperature, and requests from the Night Elf Villagers (And only those with the blood of the Night Elf villagers present during its consecration running in their veins). When it is cold, the Roots of Fragrance will spread medicinal or poisonous herbs, depending on the wishes of the villagers. When it is warm, it will spread fragrant herbs well suited for cooking and processing into spices of all kinds, or slightly magically attuned kinds of herbs.
5 MP - 4 DP remaining.
You know me... I'm a Roman, of the old styyyyyle. Also Rozmari wants to bang Parslie so Cataracts suggests finding something pretty as a gift. They force Basil to go. Basil and Rozmari fight and split up. Basil finds a fragment of a god in the form of a flower and brings it back. Everyone confirms Basil is best and they make it a thing. Tree god happy, spice for all. Dune worm.
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