The humans were too slow for the god to maintain a comfortable pace. It hovered, settling at a specific distance ahead, then waited for them to follow. Erjang was struggling until it put something in her arm that made her feel young again, in body at least. In her mind she had always been nineteen.
"Who are you?" asked the elder.
"Heartworm," said Heartworm.
Erjang nodded. What was not said sometimes told more than what was.
"You have been waiting for us, no?"
"Correct."
"So you have something to say."
Heartworm turned to them, moving backwards now. "You are aware that Tauga has received divine modification."
Oyur's heart beat a little quicker at the mention of her name.
"The touch of God, yes," said Erjang.
"I am that God," said Heartworm, lowering itself to perch at the top of a boulder. "Heartworm guided your ships. Xerxes survives by its hand."
"You are Jaan?"
"Part of it." Heartworm was no longer moving. Wherever it was leading them was just beyond the next rise.
"The island of Axotal was reserved for you," said the Emaciator. "Tauga is tied to Heartworm. Xerxes is tied to Tauga. Thus Xerxes is of the Emaciator's domain."
"And what would you have us do?"
"Survive," said Heartworm. "Remember."
They reached summit. Before them fell a shallow sinkhole, greenery spilling over its edges. From its center rose an obsidian statue, four men tall.
With a Sweetheart at her back, Tauga held a rose quartz Heartworm in her hand and locked eyes with it, her other eyes gazing out over the sea.
Ruthar brought them in on a beach black with basalt. It was a dark reminder of how far they were from home. Few of them had seen a coast beyond the Purple Sands before.
Oyur helped Erjang down, supported her with a shoulder until the earth was firm enough for the elder's staff to bear her weight. The rest of the advance guard were cautiously scattering across the beach in pairs. Former rotflies, none of them still wore the badge. That title had died with Xerxes.
But the glass blades they carried had not lost their edge, and the watchmen were no less dangerous than they once had been.
The island- For there was no mainland here, that much they knew- was dark of stone and mountainous. A volcano. Erjang nodded to the heights and vowed to pray to the spirits of this land. There would not be another. The encircling coral had done too much damage to their ships.
Strange plants grew here, things that had only been seen before as weeds, now grown into forests. Ferns as tall as pines, aloes that branched into trees, humble groundsels that now towered over the dandelions that had been their brothers. There were animals, also- Sea lions basked on the shores, and something sang eerie wailing songs in the distance.
Erjang lowered herself with painstaking effort to the ground, rubbed the soil between her fingertips. It had never known the plough or the paddy. This was virgin land.
A tracker with a crocody-doggle approached them from the next rise and nodded to Oyur, still looking over his shoulder with his other pair of eyes. The two humans followed his lead as the cody worried at the trail of a shrew. Even the doggles were hungry for fresh ground.
Oyur adjusted her rucksack and lifted the old woman over the worst of the pillowed lava. She was light and small.
A sprawl of flat earth greeted them on the other side, dotted with ponds. At its center stood a figure. Something with two long, thin legs, and a body like a tooth. Erjang approached it without fear.
They knew they were lost. Erjang had arranged an extensive suicide watch, even before the rice began to grow small. Many of these people had lived through the famine that had preceded Tauga, and the gnarled hand of starvation was close enough to touch. Fresh memories of the gaunt dead were rising from a mire they hoped would die with Usgalo the tyrant.
There was hope, still, for hope is a bitter weed that roots wherever it is defied. But not of reaching the taiga. They were too far east.
Some had said there were islands here, following the earthquakes of some decades ago. They were unexplored, despite all attempts otherwise, but maybe...
Smaller hopes had sprung up between there and the Dark Carnival they had left behind. Water wasn't a problem any more. A long journey left far too much room for twiddling thumbs, and when thumbs twiddled with the Mason's Flesh, results eventually followed.
If the salt filters could be grown on anything other than flayed skin, it would be perfect. Nobody thought twice about allowing the graft-bearers a double ration.
But now there was land in sight and the suffering was about to end. Erjang looked at it with thin old eyes hung with bags. Where one suffering ended, another began.
I accidentally popped something in the IC instead of here. Doesn't matter, I have more posts upcoming so I can edit something in to fill that gap soon.
They knew they were lost. Erjang had arranged an extensive suicide watch, even before the rice began to grow small. Many of these people had lived through the famine that had preceded Tauga, and the gnarled hand of starvation was close enough to touch. Fresh memories of the gaunt dead were rising from a mire they hoped would die with Usgalo the tyrant.
There was hope, still, for hope is a bitter weed that roots wherever it is defied. But not of reaching the taiga. They were too far east.
Some had said there were islands here, following the earthquakes of some decades ago. They were unexplored, despite all attempts otherwise, but maybe...
Smaller hopes had sprung up between there and the Dark Carnival they had left behind. Water wasn't a problem any more. A long journey left far too much room for twiddling thumbs, and when thumbs twiddled with the Mason's Flesh, results eventually followed.
If the salt filters could be grown on anything other than flayed skin, it would be perfect. Nobody thought twice about allowing the graft-bearers a double ration.
But now there was land in sight and the suffering was about to end. Erjang looked at it with thin old eyes hung with bags. Where one suffering ended, another began.
* * *
Ruthar brought them in on a beach black with basalt. It was a dark reminder of how far they were from home. Few of them had seen a coast beyond the Purple Sands before.
Oyur helped Erjang down, supported her with a shoulder until the earth was firm enough for the elder's staff to bear her weight. The rest of the advance guard were cautiously scattering across the beach in pairs. Former rotflies, none of them still wore the badge. That title had died with Xerxes.
But the glass blades they carried had not lost their edge, and the watchmen were no less dangerous than they once had been.
The island- For there was no mainland here, that much they knew- was dark of stone and mountainous. A volcano. Erjang nodded to the heights and vowed to pray to the spirits of this land. There would not be another. The encircling coral had done too much damage to their ships.
Strange plants grew here, things that had only been seen before as weeds, now grown into forests. Ferns as tall as pines, aloes that branched into trees, humble groundsels that now towered over the dandelions that had been their brothers. There were animals, also- Sea lions basked on the shores, and something sang eerie wailing songs in the distance.
Erjang lowered herself with painstaking effort to the ground, rubbed the soil between her fingertips. It had never known the plough or the paddy. This was virgin land.
A tracker with a crocody-doggle approached them from the next rise and nodded to Oyur, still looking over his shoulder with his other pair of eyes. The two humans followed his lead as the cody worried at the trail of a shrew. Even the doggles were hungry for fresh ground.
Oyur adjusted her rucksack and lifted the old woman over the worst of the pillowed lava. She was light and small.
A sprawl of flat earth greeted them on the other side, dotted with ponds. At its center stood a figure. Something with two long, thin legs, and a body like a tooth. Erjang approached it without fear.
"Greetings," said the elder.
"Come," said the Emaciator.
* * *
The humans were too slow for the god to maintain a comfortable pace. It hovered, settling at a specific distance ahead, then waited for them to follow. Erjang was struggling until it put something in her arm that made her feel young again, in body at least. In her mind she had always been nineteen.
"Who are you?" asked the elder.
"Heartworm," said Heartworm.
Erjang nodded. What was not said sometimes told more than what was.
"You have been waiting for us, no?"
"Correct."
"So you have something to say."
Heartworm turned to them, moving backwards now. "You are aware that Tauga has received divine modification."
Oyur's heart beat a little quicker at the mention of her name.
"The touch of God, yes," said Erjang.
"I am that God," said Heartworm, lowering itself to perch at the top of a boulder. "Heartworm guided your ships. Xerxes survives by its hand."
"You are Jaan?"
"Part of it." Heartworm was no longer moving. Wherever it was leading them was just beyond the next rise.
"The island of Axotal was reserved for you," said the Emaciator. "Tauga is tied to Heartworm. Xerxes is tied to Tauga. Thus Xerxes is of the Emaciator's domain."
"And what would you have us do?"
"Survive," said Heartworm. "Remember."
They reached summit. Before them fell a shallow sinkhole, greenery spilling over its edges. From its center rose an obsidian statue, four men tall.
With a Sweetheart at her back, Tauga held a rose quartz Heartworm in her hand and locked eyes with it, her other eyes gazing out over the sea.
* * *
The people of Axotal learned quickly from their surroundings, and marshalled themselves into order.
From the pith and heads of the fern trees did they harvest their first meal from the island, and with its bamboo pitched tents made of sailcloth. From the trunk of the aloe they made quivers, and with its juice they made salves.
The broken ships they took apart and made granaries of, and they learned to harvest radiates from the coral. The fossa and the falanouc they tamed, and they bred codies that were good fishers. No Ironheart bronze lay within this mountain, but a club edged with shark teeth would suffice for most things, and of obsidian there was plenty.
Heartworm did not abandon them, though it was not often present. They were taught how to close old sores with Mason's flesh, such that they would not reopen, and how to craft masks with ballooning vessels at the sides, that might store a second breath for them to dive. Tree resin and arksynth mixed with just a little powdered crinoid made a powerful adhesive for them to repair their tools, and when a rockfall claimed the life of a fleshsmith, his climbing partner discovered that the residue on their hands had mutated into something that clung like gecko toes.
They learned that there were five great islands in the Metatic, and many hundreds of smaller ones. They knew this for they came to meet with the Tlaca, who were denizens of the southernmost isles, and a monk with no eyes translated for them.
They learned that Axotal had been cursed for many years, such that no man could set foot there. Its plants were strange, they said, and its animals wailed in the night. Its corals were sharp like glass, and sea serpents slew those who strayed near its waters.
The Tlaca of Ihuian the Tranquil and Xiloxoch the Weathered were glad to see that the curse had lifted, but would not set foot on Axotal the Cursed without a Xerxian at their side. Nor would they venture north to Xanchaladan, the great island, for its people were warlike, and hardened by suffering.
But, thought an older yet stronger Erjang, as she watched Oyur knot together a serpent-saddle in Heartworm's shadow, they are not the only ones.
Oyur finished her saddle and waded into the reef. She lowered her gasp-mask and slipped into the waves. From the shore, Erjang could just about see the Blowfly's likeness on her face.
Tauga's Xerxian refugees have arrived in Axotal, one of the Metatic islands. They find it uninhabited by everyone and anyone not called Heartworm.
Apparently Heartworm has been crafting a unique ecosystem in Axotal, and keeping out the other islanders, all in wait for Tauga's people. It claims that due to Tauga's loyalty to them, it, too, has a duty to stay on their side.
With their newfound patron, the Xerxians set up a colony about five thousand strong. Heartworm's ecosystem (loosely based on Madagascan and East African forests) does them well, and they don't find themselves lacking in food or materials.
The Xerxians have dubbed arksynth Mason's flesh, and after a whole bunch of months spent at sea dying and/or doing nothing they discover a morph that lets living humans filter seawater into (mildly disgusting) freshwater (it's a painful process). They also get better at closing infected sores. Heartworm gives them the dwarven morph that holds air, though this time it's used for diving rather than caving.
Heartworm also helps them invent flesh glue to mend things good, and weird finger grafts that stick to surfaces. Two free points for those morphs.
They also get tropical versions of dwarven sea serpents! These ones are pretty aggressive though, so it's unlikely that they can be domesticated without Heartworm's help. A free point into sea serpents because fuck it might as well make it official that they're my favourite mount.
The Xerxians make acquaintance with the indigenous people of the islands south of them, Ihuian and Xiloxoch, who call themselves the Tlaca. The Tlaca are actually pretty happy to see the Xerxians, since they seem to have lifted the 'curse' that prevented Axotal from being settled, and are now exploring the island with them.
Jvan 10 Might Ambient 8 Might in Ovaedis 0 Free Points 2C / 0D Level Five
Little ankh icon appears at the top right of a given text box, gives a list of saved revisions if you click it when the app is enabled. That's what it does for me, anyway.
If it's any consolation, it's still a very nice post. These things get easier to handle over time. I lost my very first character sheet in my very first roleplay the same way, so we're all with you in the rage boat.
There are browser apps that back up what you type into text boxes, though, to buffer against this kind of bullshit. I use one called Lazarus, which is a touch old but still works fine.
I honestly haven't thought about it. Metera has plenty of Rovaick and Urtelem, so they wouldn't be exactly welcome, but if they're not passing through the valley itself there's probably no reason to put them down either. So maybe one or two have a patrol nearby or circling Bormahven?
there's so much i completely forgot to mention in this post tbh
RIP Phlegethon, you were interesting before you faded into obscurity
also there should be some Phiists(?) who took Sularn's Vow? IDK MAN IDK
I guess Phi could have put them down preemptively, though.
Lord Zee
MarshalSolgriev
urukhai
Alby47
Crispy Octopus
It's not a dig or anything, I just find it hilarious. That background music.