-Route to my pad -trying to see if you can use it as a shortcut -apparently you can't -but
Chopstick Eyes drew the blade, bright as silver, sharp as a razor, and put it in her mouth. Wincing hard but unable to blink, she pulled it to the edge of her lips and drew it out, dragging it through the left corner of her mouth, opening her face that much wider. When it was done, she buckled, clutching her stomach, and made it into a bow.
"Th-there," she said, wiping the blood into a streak. "I've taught it to cut gods." She offered him the knife.
Chopstick Eyes stood at the edge of the sea, the Lustrous Garden shimmering over rippled waves. She checked a watch she was not wearing, and, realising this, tapped her feet impatiently. The tapping turned into a bored, humming little jig, over the course of which she nearly missed her rendezvous.
She spotted Veradax casting its shadow over the smog of the Pyres just in time, and startled, scrambling back to the spot she was meant to watch. There, as the celestial spheres aligned- not in any noteworthy arrangement, but not random, never random- she spotted it: a mess of foam along the tide-line, a squiggle of sand in a shape that could have been, but was not quite, writing. In another moment it was gone, wiped clean by the waves.
Gotcha.
"C'mere."
The frog refused, flexing its throat as frogs do in a thoroughly nonplussed kind of fashion. Chopstick sighed with her hands on her hips, and looked around, as if for help. There was none, none but the fogbank of Li'Kalla's gate in the distance. And she was fortunate for that, too. She couldn't afford witnesses.
"C'mon, lemme just..." She stretched (some of) her arms into the muddy hole again, and when they weren't long enough, she tried her hair; the strands returned, carrying a fat green amphibian, resigned but by no means beaten. Chopstick looked over her shoulder again, quickly this time, and put the frog to her ear.
"..."
Nod.
"... ..."
Nod nod. Chopstick put the frog back from whence it came. Later that day, she found a marshy puddle, and, splashing her feet into it, disappeared completely.
A dark space, but not lightless.
A fragment of a walkway with no rails.
A door.
Chopstick Eyes stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the Grand Bazaar, wiping the dust of things indescribable off her skin. Lanterns greeted her warmly; street hawkers greeted her too warmly. But it was all grass around her feet and branches brushing the elephant's back. She was God, here. She was in command.
With a hop and a skip and a jump and about eight full-size meals from the intermediary food courts, Chopstick Eyes had returned to her workshop, the one with the monster doodles scattered all over the floor. She picked one up and smiled, half-shrugged. It was funnier now, but she did need something to keep her pad safe, and even with two Chopsticks, she wouldn't be here all the time. Especially now that she had a promise to Li'Kalla.
Her well of ideas had not since become any less dry, but there were other ways around her many weaknesses than trying to muscle through them alone. Donning a trench coat and a black hat, Chopstick Eyes set out for yet another trip to the places few would ever see. This time, it was quick.
The black market was a place of bright lights and dark faces, if faces there were. The floating gloves had lead in their knuckles. The voices were quick and were muted.
The wagon Chopstick ordered were already carrying a heavy load of goods, crude, hefty iron pieces, choppers and maulers and, to her own astonishment, enormous boomerangs. They didn't come back when she threw them, unfortunately. They weren't weighted that way. But good lord were they heavy. And sharp. And remarkably cheap... All of the weapons were. Chopstick made a note to take a good look at this 'Pit of Trials' sometime.
As for the rest, well, she waited until she was back in the workshop. It wasn't much, really: a fancy gold-trimmed black box, a stapled document, and some old blueprints rolled up with rubber bands. She started with the documents.
On Stem-Line Nanyte Replication in Second-Generation Autonomous Cluster-Based Perimeter Monitors M. Salma Lei
Abstract Since their introduction as post-urban infiltration and insurgency countermeasures, nanyte cluster perimeter monitors, colloquially Haze Men, have been field-tested for real-time environmental awareness and perception as well as combat efficiency, measured in terms of algorithmic response coverage, response rate, burst stamina, maximum force output, impact, compressive, tensile and fatigue strength. The lifespan of each unit measured across 800 cycles at periodic maximum and near-maximum performance has
Chopstick stared at the document blankly. It was at least forty pages long.
"Iiiiiiieeeeeee can't fucking read this," she announced, and threw it in the incinerator. "Black market know-how it is."
She opened the box, then closed it again. When she opened it a second time, everything was just the way she'd left it: a box lined with velvet, and eight bags full of dust. Eight incredibly expensive plastic sachets of black, black dust. She ripped one open and poured it out on the floor.
The cloud that rose wasn't choking, nor did it cover the skin and sink into the floorboards. It coiled, flexed and expanded, then shrank, the dust pouring from the sachet in a continual, impossible waterfall, sucking itself into itself until it formed a solid mass. The mass began to glow.
Up stood a creature like a steel spring, coiled and sharpened for violence. Heads and shoulders it towered above Chopstick, watching her with eyes bored into its face with a harsh, mechanical light.
A Haze Man, once again. Chopstick grinned, and booped its nose. She got almost to its face before its hand seized her wrist, its body and gaze unmoving over a vicious grip.
Very nice.
"Alright, point taken. Lemme go, mall cop," said Chopstick, and it did. "You think you can find your own way to the Palace?" The creature creaked, buzzing in a language that she did not understand. "Yeah? Well, close enough. Meet me there and I'll tell you who not to kill." The Haze Man made a noise like gravel being scratched.
Bit rough around the edges, for sure, thought Chopstick Eyes. But definitely a cutie.
The Palace was one of the largest hotel-restaurant-brothel combinations in the Grand Bazaar, and Chopstick Eyes owned one hundred percent of it. It was certainly the grandest: trimmed with brass and golden statues, it was styled true to its name, with vast, silken rooms, its own private square for dances and performance, and kitchens enough to feast nightly. Sometimes, when Chopstick was feeling particularly lavish, she would sleep in its basement.
It was also, unfortunately, quite empty. Advertised as a place 'where the gloves are leather and lace', they were really just silk for the most part. There were neither guests to enjoy the Palace's premium service nor any staff capable of supplying it. The gloves were great for spanking and such like, but man cannot live on handjobs alone.
Oh well.
Chopstick met the waiting Haze Men in front of the hotel, and promptly instructed them to arm themselves. The Palace was empty for now, sure, but one day it wouldn't be, and on that day she would tolerate no tomfoolery.
...
Well, that was a lie. She'd tolerate a lot.
Probably encourage it.
Probably be responsible for it.
But still. No tomfoolery.
Chopstick crawled out of the earth as she was wont to do, and changed out of her tunnelling overalls. It didn't help much. The rain was remarkably heavy today, and the mud splashing around her feet was awfully lively. Halfway through wrapping her kimono, Chopstick aborted the process and opted for a bright yellow raincoat with gumboots.
It certainly wasn't flying weather. She couldn't make it back to the Gateway if she tried, assuming Li'Kalla was even there in the first place. But that didn't matter much. She'd made another purchase in the deep markets.
From the deep pockets of the raincoat, Chopstick retrieved a wand of curious construction. Its haft was some fine-grained black material, matte and weighty, and a shiny, silvery metal orb formed its head. A thin steel band encircled the grid-like, rippling wirework of the orb, and visible within was some kind of dark foam. It had been sold to her as Michael's Wand of Loudspaken, and she had every intention of testing it out.
She activated the wand and tapped the orb. A fizzy thudding sound echoed for miles around. She inhaled.
"HEY, LI'KALLA!"
...okay, maybe that was a little too loud.
"Whoops! Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you, hey. Hey, I made a reservation for you at my hotel in the Bazaar, so you can pop in any time! Just let the staff know you're in and I'll be right there to meetcha, alright?"
No answer. She probably didn't have a Michael's Wand of Loudspaken. What a sucker.
"If anyone else can hear this, uh... Hey listeners, what's up! I have chopstick eyes, and I'm totally open for business right now. Need some goods? Want some services? Just call Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline for a totally free consultation! We do deliveries! We do pick-up! We do deliveries clocked at eight hundred miles per hour directly to your chosen recipients cranium! Want some emotional advice? Look no further! Want some sexual advice? I do too! Just call Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline! Call it with your throat! Call it with your tuba! Call it with a big sack of angry cats you're trying to pass off as bagpipes! That sounds hilarious! Terms and conditions may apply, but I'm deliberately ignoring them! Thank you!"
...
"Oh yeah, by the way, if anyone wants to bring my security staff, like, a cup of coffee or something, sometime, that'd be nice, they look kinda parched."
A nearby mud-clump stared at Chopstick Eyes incredulously.
She shrugged.
Choppy demonstrates use of the Route to smuggle oneself into the Bazaar.
She then acquires eight Haze Men, which are dust golems / nanobot swarms / living shadow creatures designed to protect her hotel in the Bazaar from non-divine threats, and hopefully delay divine threats long enough for her to arrive. Two free points on that.
She also acquires Michael's Wand of Loudspaken, an artifact that amplifies her voice such that she can speak across continents. Unfortunately, only divine and heroic ears are keen enough to actually pick up her voice at that kind of range, but mortals will at least hear her from miles away. One Might on that.
She uses the Wand to announce to Li'Kalla that there's a reservation in her hotel for her, and to announce Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline to Galbar. Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline is a dropshipping startup ability that alerts her to any orders for goods and services that gods may have placed for her, that she will eventually get around to delivering. That's free, because Market Lord lmao
She also starts what may or may not be a Quest: locate the Bazaar and bring her hard-working Haze Men a mug of hot coffee for their services.
Chopstick Eyes stood at the edge of the sea, the Lustrous Garden shimmering over rippled waves. She checked a watch she was not wearing, and, realising this, tapped her feet impatiently. The tapping turned into a bored, humming little jig, over the course of which she nearly missed her rendezvous.
She spotted Veradax casting its shadow over the smog of the Pyres just in time, and startled, scrambling back to the spot she was meant to watch. There, as the celestial spheres aligned- not in any noteworthy arrangement, but not random, never random- she spotted it: a mess of foam along the tide-line, a squiggle of sand in a shape that could have been, but was not quite, writing. In another moment it was gone, wiped clean by the waves.
Gotcha.
"C'mere."
The frog refused, flexing its throat as frogs do in a thoroughly nonplussed kind of fashion. Chopstick sighed with her hands on her hips, and looked around, as if for help. There was none, none but the fogbank of Li'Kalla's gate in the distance. And she was fortunate for that, too. She couldn't afford witnesses.
"C'mon, lemme just..." She stretched (some of) her arms into the muddy hole again, and when they weren't long enough, she tried her hair; the strands returned, carrying a fat green amphibian, resigned but by no means beaten. Chopstick looked over her shoulder again, quickly this time, and put the frog to her ear.
"..."
Nod.
"... ..."
Nod nod. Chopstick put the frog back from whence it came. Later that day, she found a marshy puddle, and, splashing her feet into it, disappeared completely.
A dark space, but not lightless.
A fragment of a walkway with no rails.
A door.
Chopstick Eyes stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the Grand Bazaar, wiping the dust of things indescribable off her skin. Lanterns greeted her warmly; street hawkers greeted her too warmly. But it was all grass around her feet and branches brushing the elephant's back. She was God, here. She was in command.
With a hop and a skip and a jump and about eight full-size meals from the intermediary food courts, Chopstick Eyes had returned to her workshop, the one with the monster doodles scattered all over the floor. She picked one up and smiled, half-shrugged. It was funnier now, but she did need something to keep her pad safe, and even with two Chopsticks, she wouldn't be here all the time. Especially now that she had a promise to Li'Kalla.
Her well of ideas had not since become any less dry, but there were other ways around her many weaknesses than trying to muscle through them alone. Donning a trench coat and a black hat, Chopstick Eyes set out for yet another trip to the places few would ever see. This time, it was quick.
The black market was a place of bright lights and dark faces, if faces there were. The floating gloves had lead in their knuckles. The voices were quick and were muted.
The wagon Chopstick ordered were already carrying a heavy load of goods, crude, hefty iron pieces, choppers and maulers and, to her own astonishment, enormous boomerangs. They didn't come back when she threw them, unfortunately, they weren't weighted that way; but good lord were they heavy and sharp. And they were remarkably cheap. All of these things were. Chopstick made a note to take a good look at this 'Pit of Trials' sometime.
As for the rest, well, she waited until she was back in the workshop. It wasn't much, really: a fancy gold-trimmed black box, a stapled document, and some old blueprints rolled up with rubber bands. She started with the documents.
On Stem-Line Nanyte Replication in Second-Generation Autonomous Cluster-Based Perimeter Monitors M. Salma Lei
Abstract Since their introduction as post-urban infiltration and insurgency countermeasures, nanyte cluster perimeter monitors, colloquially Haze Men, have been field-tested for real-time environmental awareness and perception as well as combat efficiency, measured in terms of algorithmic response coverage, response rate, burst stamina, maximum force output, impact, compressive, tensile and fatigue strength. The lifespan of each unit measured across 800 cycles at periodic maximum and near-maximum performance has
Chopstick stared at the document blankly. It was at least forty pages long.
"Iiiiiiieeeeeee can't fucking read this," she announced, and threw it in the incinerator. "Black market know-how it is."
She opened the box, then closed it again. When she opened it a second time, everything was just the way she'd left it: a box lined with velvet, and eight bags full of dust. Eight incredibly expensive plastic sachets of black, black dust. She ripped one open and poured it out on the floor.
The cloud that rose wasn't choking, nor did it cover the skin and sink into the floorboards. It coiled, flexed and expanded, then shrank, the dust pouring from the sachet in a continual, impossible waterfall, sucking itself into itself until it formed a solid mass. The mass began to glow.
Up stood a creature like a steel spring, coiled and sharpened for violence. Heads and shoulders it towered above Chopstick, watching her with eyes bored into its face with a harsh, mechanical light.
A Haze Man, once again. Chopstick grinned, and booped its nose. She got almost to its face before its hand seized her wrist, its body and gaze unmoving over a vicious grip.
Very nice.
"Alright, point taken. Lemme go, mall cop," said Chopstick, and it did. "You think you can find your own way to the Palace?" The creature creaked, buzzing in a language that she did not understand. "Yeah? Well, close enough. Meet me there and I'll tell you who not to kill." The Haze Man made a noise like gravel being scratched.
Bit rough around the edges, for sure, thought Chopstick Eyes. But definitely a cutie.
The Palace was one of the largest hotel-restaurant-brothel combinations in the Grand Bazaar, and Chopstick Eyes owned one hundred percent of it. It was certainly the grandest: trimmed with brass and golden statues, it was styled true to its name, with vast, silken rooms, its own private square for dances and performance, and kitchens enough to feast nightly. Sometimes, when Chopstick was feeling particularly lavish, she would sleep in its basement.
It was also, unfortunately, quite empty. Advertised as a place 'where the gloves are leather and lace', they were really just silk for the most part. There were neither guests to enjoy the Palace's premium service nor any staff capable of supplying it. The gloves were great for spanking and such like, but man cannot live on handjobs alone.
Oh well.
Chopstick met the waiting Haze Men in front of the hotel, and promptly instructed them to arm themselves. The Palace was empty for now, sure, but one day it wouldn't be, and on that day she would tolerate no tomfoolery.
...
Well, that was a lie. She'd tolerate a lot.
Probably encourage it.
Probably be responsible for it.
But still. No tomfoolery.
Chopstick crawled out of the earth as she was wont to do, and changed out of her tunnelling overalls. It didn't help much. The rain was remarkably heavy today, and the mud splashing around her feet was awfully lively. Halfway through wrapping her kimono, Chopstick aborted the process and opted for a bright yellow raincoat with gumboots.
It certainly wasn't flying weather. She couldn't make it back to the Gateway if she tried, assuming Li'Kalla was even there in the first place. But that didn't matter much. She'd made another purchase in the deep markets.
From the deep pockets of the raincoat, Chopstick retrieved a wand of curious construction. Its haft was some fine-grained black material, matte and weighty, and a shiny, silvery metal orb formed its head. A thin steel band encircled the grid-like, rippling wirework of the orb, and visible within was some kind of dark foam. It had been sold to her as Michael's Wand of Loudspaken, and she had every intention of testing it out.
She activated the wand and tapped the orb. A fizzy thudding sound echoed for miles around. She inhaled.
"HEY, LI'KALLA!"
...okay, maybe that was a little too loud.
"Whoops! Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you, hey. Hey, I made a reservation for you at my hotel in the Bazaar, so you can pop in any time! Just let the staff know you're in and I'll be right there to meetcha, alright?"
No answer. She probably didn't have a Michael's Wand of Loudspaken. What a sucker.
"If anyone else can hear this, uh... Hey listeners, what's up! I have chopstick eyes, and I'm totally open for business right now. Need some goods? Want some services? Just call Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline for a totally free consultation! We do deliveries! We do pick-up! We do deliveries clocked at eight hundred miles per hour directly to your chosen recipients cranium! Want some emotional advice? Look no further! Want some sexual advice? I do too! Just call Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline! Call it with your throat! Call it with your tuba! Call it with a big sack of angry cats you're trying to pass off as bagpipes! That sounds hilarious! Terms and conditions may apply, but I'm deliberately ignoring them! Thank you!"
...
"Oh yeah, by the way, if anyone wants to bring my security staff, like, a cup of coffee or something, sometime, that'd be nice, they look kinda parched."
A nearby mud-clump stared at Chopstick Eyes incredulously.
She shrugged.
Choppy demonstrates use of the Route to smuggle oneself into the Bazaar.
She then acquires eight Haze Men, which are dust golems / nanobot swarms / living shadow creatures designed to protect her hotel in the Bazaar from non-divine threats, and hopefully delay divine threats long enough for her to arrive. Two free points on that.
She also acquires Michael's Wand of Loudspaken, an artifact that amplifies her voice such that she can speak across continents. Unfortunately, only divine and heroic ears are keen enough to actually pick up her voice at that kind of range, but mortals will at least hear her from miles away. One Might on that.
She uses the Wand to announce to Li'Kalla that there's a reservation in her hotel for her, and to announce Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline to Galbar. Choppy's Business Delivery Hotline is a dropshipping startup ability that alerts her to any orders for goods and services that gods may have placed for her, that she will eventually get around to delivering. That's free, because Market Lord lmao
She also starts what may or may not be a Quest: locate the Bazaar and bring her hard-working Haze Men a mug of hot coffee for their services.
Heavy rain pounded the trench. Large droplets tattered off Chopstick Eye’s wide brimmed helmet, but no matter how hard she tried to hear the rain, she never could. The rapid fire tak tak tak tak of machine gun fire fought against the ringing after-wave of explosions for dominance in her ears. A mixture of mud and sweat fogged any vision she could have.
PTNK!
A stray bullet slammed into the man to her right, his head jerking back as a spray of crimson erupted behind him. Running on planks raised out of the muddy ground another soldier in red stained beige ran to the machine gun nest of the dead man. Before he could make it, a grenade bounced off the back of the trench and by his feet. Quickly the man scooped it up and as he tossed it outwards it exploded.
Chopstick was thrown backwards from the blast, and between stinging blurs she saw the man writhing on the ground, dirt soaking in his exposed elbow, his severed arm nowhere to be seen. Another soldier ran up to the man, pressing a hand deep into the dark ooze that was pouring from the wound, he turned to look at Chopstick.
“Daniel! Man that fucking gun!”
Why do you always, thought the creature in the long coat, think you know my name? But out loud she said, ”Okeydokey, sarge boy.”
It was a brief splash and a slog before she made it to the nest of sandbags and wire, set her hands on the handles of the gatling gun. From here, she had a clear view of no man’s land. The rain fell in a heavy blanket, but it couldn’t make leave her much blinder than she already was, or more far-seeing.
tak tak tak tak tak tak tak tak
It was a remarkably effective, and a remarkably boring, tool. Men were leaping from holes in the dirt, running between the wire and the craters in the hope that they could make it to her side before being spotted. They were always men, never women, and they were never right. Chopstick pressed her buttons and the machine spoke and they fell. Every now and then one of their own machines would speak in a different tone, and she’d hear something miss her head with a zip oh wait no that last one hit.
Chopstick fell back into the mud with a big hole in her face, across her cheek and jaw, an ugly blasted tunnel that showed off her broken teeth and jaw and leaked a red slime that might have been blood. Oh, she thought. Oh that’s going to start hurting soon.
It did.
“Fucking hell,” A voice called out. A soldier slided next to Chopstick, a crust of blood and dirt on the side of his face, staining a white band across his helmet. The man stared at Chopstick, shoving gauze onto her gaping wound, and pouring water around the edge, forming brown rivulets down her cheek. She shrieked at him, an injured, cornered fiend with teeth sprouting in a dense forest from the opening in her face.
As the man fought to work on her, she noticed a figure rise above the lip of the trench. The enemy soldier was wearing a dark uniform with N.R.R. emblazoned on his sleeve, and in his hands he aimed a trench sweeper at the medic.
Chopstick met his gaze and stopped, then watched, as, in one small movement, he blew a hole through the soldier on top of her, and a larger, messier one, in her belly.
She shrieked, though she couldn’t hear it any more, and leapt at him, throwing the dying medic off of her one-handed without noticing him. The dark soldier had no time to stagger or pump his shotgun; she was on top of him, screaming, smashing his face with her fists, strangling him with her hands, shaking him back and forth like a ragdoll.
On the ground, they were too close together for anyone to take a clear shot. As soon as she stood up over the corpse, more bullets entered her, leaving holes in her coat and her flesh, and she dropped, leaking, dribbling red.
But there was something very interesting attached to the end of the killer’s gun: a long, thin knife with a single edge.
Chopstick pulled her helmet away from her head and let her hair cover her, let her arms scuttle away, dragging her wounded body like a ghastly cockroach in the direction from which her attackers had come, leaving a trail of mud. More bullets came, but she was a fast target now, fast and low. Her hair cracked like a whip as she reached the first man, opening him with the knife. The hair collected another bayonet, and Chopstick leapt onto the second man. Then the third.
There was a brief whistle that sounded over the cracking of bullets. Suddenly Chopstick’s entire world lit up in a ball of flame. A great explosion landed behind her, sending her barreling forward alongside disembodied limbs and clumps of mud. The pain was something new as it ate up the flesh on her back.
As she dazed on the ground, she noticed a new shape in her peripheral, a mighty metal monster rolling around on treads, spouting massive explosions from a barrel, Rozdeleny painted across the cannon. With a silent whirr the turret repositioned itself again, and slowly the cannon came to bear down on Chopstick, but before it could fire a familiar hand grabbed what was left of the collar on her coat and began to drag her from the scene. It was the Sarge.
The man was bleeding heavily from his forehead and the beige in his uniform was blotted out by stains. He turned on his feet, pulling Chopsticks behind a bend in the trench. Slowly and gradually the sounds of the battle began to disappear behind them. A tension she didn’t know she was holding fell over her, and slowly the world went black.
Her eyes snapped open, she was in bed. There was no evidence of ever being wounded on her body, and for some reason she had a feeling years had passed since that day. She even recognized the room as her own, from the war memorabilia down to the curtains.
There was a urgent knock on her door.
Chopstick mmrmphed, cautiously pressed a finger to the side of her head where her cheek had been missing, then pulled herself upright and said, “Fuck off..?”
She reached into the bedside table and pulled out a packet of paper-rolls with black leaves in them, selected one and lit it with a match. “Alright, you can come in now,” she clarified, shaking out the match and dragging on the cigarette.
“Sarge?” A man walked in, the left sleeve of his suit was stapled to his shoulder, his arm missing from the elbow down, “Theresa let me in, but-”
But Theresa can fuck off too, thought Chopstick Eyes. Lemme sleep.
“It's Daniel, he hasn't been answering any calls, haven't seen him around. I want to go check on him, but he- he will listen to you,” the man shoved his hand in his pocket, “I have the Studebaker out back.”
Chopstick considered. She made sure to take the longest, slowest pull on her cancerstick before answering. “Who’s Daniel?”
The man looked at Chopstick bewildered, “Danny? From the war? Our best friend? Took a bullet to the teeth while on the gun. Our Danny boy? You pulled both our arses out of that hellhole... Is this a joke?”
Chopstick sighed. “Oh yeah. That guy.” She grinned, fit to swallow something very large, though the right side of her face seemed to have developed a twitch. “I reckon she’ll b- he’ll be pretty chuffed to see me, ey?”
“I hope so,” the man held the door for Chopstick, “I have a pit in my stomach, you know what they say about some of the good old boys who never adjusted.”
“Eh, don’t worry. I think she’ll be juuust fine.” Chopstick chuckled and slithered out of bed and onto the floor, her white vest hanging loosely from her frame. Now let me just figure out what a Studebaker is and we’ll be right as rain.
Within a few minutes they were on their way. Choppy let her head dangle out the car window like a over eager dog. They zipped by grey sidewalks and brown buildings. People were going about their business and the clouds hung low over them. The man with Chopstick wore a worried look, like he was about to be sick and then finally he cranked the shifter in the car and put her in park. They were outside an apartment building.
The man exited the car with a slam and began to walk up the chipped stairway to the front door. Chopstick followed suite as the man pushed the heavy door open and made his way down a stained hallway that reeked of cigarettes. To her, it smelled of heaven.
Eventually the pair came upon Apartment 2B. The man gave it a stiff knock but there was no answer. He shared a cursory glance with Chopstick before trying the handle, it turned. The man sucked in a breath and pushed the door open.
“Daniel?”
The door opened into a kitchen that was rather unkempt, with dishes piling and the icebox open and thawed. The man made a face as he exited into the living room, and then he froze.
Daniel sat on the floor in his pajamas, tears staining his face and prosthetic right jaw. Burn scars wrinkled the back of his bald head and the nozzle of a gun was pressed into his mouth.
The man held out his hands, “Daniel- what are you doing. Daniel!?”
Daniel met eyes with Chopstick. Her skewers stared at him, unwavering, and the room grew so quiet you could just about hear them creak. Very gently, very slowly, Chopstick stepped across the room, put one hand on Daniel’s shoulder, and pulled the gun away.
“Here,” she said. “It’s much easier if I do it.”
Daniel’s brain peppered the floor for an instant before he fell, his body covering the mess. The other man was screaming, swearing and rushing towards Chopstick. Before he could ever get close enough, a man wearing a nice black suit, smoking a long white cigarette appeared in the corner of the room. He looked over the scene with a long stare to match the drag on his cig. Suddenly the stranger snapped his fingers and-
And then she was awake.
The sea lapped gently at the gravel beach around her feet. Wind rustled in the leaves. Some had fallen to cover her- she’d been here for some time. She sighed. Building the Feasting Forest had taken a lot out of her.
She rubbed her mouth and yawned. The right side of her face had developed a twitch. She looked out over the strait (why was it boiling?) and thought back to the images flashing in her head. A dream. A long dream. She didn’t know what to make of it. But...
There was an odd smell in the air. A smell that she could not quite place.
The moment Li’Kalla crossed the Gateway to the So’E, the smell invaded her nostrils. Now, it wasn’t foul. On the contrary, it was quite pleasant and reminded her of those nights her family would host exotic feasts when inviting another family over for the night. There would be dancers, singers, artist--All kinds of beautiful people with strange skin colours and faces she’d never seen before!
But this scent wasn’t supposed to be here. And this scent could only mean one thing… The kitchen was in use.
Upon gingerly landing on the sandy shores of the So’E, she looked straight at the manor, its facade half hidden behind some trees a scarce half kilometer away.
Her lower jaw twitched before relaxing. A cold sweat formed on her forehead and it suddenly felt as she’d been fastened to the ground. The front doors were ajar.
Li’Kalla looked down at her legs with wide, scared eyes and saw that they weren’t fastened.
She sighed in relief and blinked.
There she was, huddled against a corner of the dark, damp cell. Trembling as she desperately hoped the light coming through the unforgiving metal bars passed her by this time-
The Goddess found herself on her hands and knees, panting as she looked down at a small pool of water. She gagged and gulped as the sand eagerly drank the pool of liquid.
”I guess I haven’t eaten anything yet...” She said quietly, to herself.
II
”Good afternoon, everyone! Aaaand welcome to another episode of Chips and Chops. I’m your host, Chopessa Stickelle, and today I’m going to walk you through how to prepare a Broad River Breakfast. Now, this is a two-course meal usually started the night beforehand, but you can make it any time you like, so long as you have a strong enough oven. So let’s chop!”
Her audience, a mop in a dress with two pears strapped on, watched with great, if silent, anticipation.
”First you’ll want to grab hold of your eel, which is the most important part of the pie. If you just… Hang on. You just grab your eel… Oh wow, slippery- just- grab it and- damnit- damn it FUCK- just grab your eel and whooOOOOPSIDAISY oh shit- hold on, we’re having a bit of a problem. You grab the eel and GUh-” Chopstick lost her footing and disappeared under the kitchen table. ”-fff- just- wait- no- fuck- come back here- I-” Pans clanging. ”-just gotta-” Pots breaking.
Chopstick Eyes emerged from under the table with a skewed hat and popped her pie on the table.
“...Oven bake for thirty minutes at two hundred degrees and enjoy~”
The mop clapped appreciatively, albeit with some assistance. Now THAT’S a wrap.
Something moved outside, dropping Chopstick from her reverie. She looked around at the baked, boiled and fried results of the previous thirty-two episodes of Chips and Chops, and realised that she’d lost track of time.
“...Hold it right there, Moppy. We've got bigger fish to fry.”
With a move between a skip and a snoop, Chopstick made her way to the mansion door, cracked it open wide enough to stick her head through, and gave a tentative, ”Howdy.”
A pale woman dressed in a blue gown was standing outside, looking like a lost wild puppy hesitant to ask for food. It was Li'Kalla, the Goddess of Rain. Her ears perked up upon hearing the greeting and she hid her face beneath the shadow her hair cast upon her face.
“Chopstick…” Li'Kalla grimaced as her eyes stole a peek at the eyes of the fellow Goddess, “... Eyes?”
”...Yep, I have ‘em.”
“I am uh, Li'Kalla.”
There was a moment of silence between the two. Li'Kalla shifted on her spot, waiting awkwardly to be invited inside into her own home.
“... Are you okay? Don't your eyes hurt?”
”Don’t yours? All round and slippery. Like walking on marbles. Uh,” Chopstick looked around. They were the only two people in this entire plane of existence. ”This, uh, isn’t your house, by any chance, is it?”
Li'Kalla shrugged. “I used to live here, a long time ago.” The look in her eyes betrayed her conflicting emotions, for as much as she tried to hide them. They were emotions the little goblin god had no idea how to handle.
”Is it, uh...” An awkward shuffling. ”Do you still live here?”
“... Kind of? I haven't entered it at all, though. Hey, um, what are you cooking?” Li'Kalla's eyes met chopstick's sticks with a predatory gaze.
”Oh, you know, the usual. Come on in!” Chopstick yanked open the door with spindly arms, skittering a little as it pulled her along.
There was food everywhere.
If the villa had seen such a feast before- and, given the luxury of the place, it may have- it had not been in many an interdimensional year. The banquet table was decked from end to end with pots, platters, plates and pans, reflecting a thousandfold between the facets of the crystal goblets and the edges of the silverware. Dishes were fitted together so neatly, and so tightly, that some had evidently been reappropriated as stuffings and toppings for others; even so, the viands extended out of the banquet-hall and into the kitchen and coffee tables. It was astonishing that one god could produce so much food, and one house could contain it; though, judging by the kebabs in the bird-cage, it was nearing its limit.
Standing beside Chopstick Eyes was Li’Kalla, mouth hung open at the sheer sight. After a moment, she wiped some drool off her chin and grinned widely.
”W-Wow! How long have you been cooking in here, Chopstick Eyes?!” She was basically screaming at her fellow Goddess in her enthusiasm, and seemed to be lightly bouncing in place.
”Well, basically since I, uh,” Chopstick scratched the back of her neck and looked briefly away, ”picked the lock with my toenail, but...” Murmur murmur. It wasn’t like Li’Kalla was listening anyway.
”Wait, i-is that… Are those Cornellian Songbird Drumsticks with bitter sauce on top?! H-How did you make them?! I thought they didn’t exist in this universe!” Her eyes went wide and in the blink of an eye, Li’Kalla was near the big dining table, reaching for a dish with what seemed to be several extremely large chicken drumsticks. The only difference being that the meat was completely white.
”I… Have no idea!” shrugged Chopstick, broadly and merrily. ”Only one way to find out, right?” She took a drumstick and flipped it into the air, where it spun like a juggler’s club before she caught it with her long sticky tongue and swallowed it whole, the bone cracking loudly inside her gut.
Li’Kalla stared in awe at Chopstick’s display of… ”What was that?!” Li’Kalla giggled and took a bite of one drumstick before setting the plate down on the table again. Even in her excited estate, one could see how carefully she chewed and how much care she went into proper etiquette. After swallowing the mouthful, she groaned and melted on the spot -- Or she would have if she was Ashalla and her body was fluid. She really just groaned happily.
”Choppyyy, were you a cook in your past life? I think you may have worked for my family! Or- Maybe not, you make the drumsticks even better!” The Rain Goddess chuckled and grabbed Chopstick’s hand and guided her along the table. ”Come on, come on, we have to taste every single dish, you know? Not like that dressed up mop over there can taste it for us!”
“Wait, what mop-” Chopstick Eyes, who had been getting to like this new friend, jerked like a body at the end of a noose and blurred to the kitchen, from whence was heard a crashing of glass. Moppy, it seemed, was no more.
”...So, uh, yeah, where were we?” said Chopstick, peering into a cauldron of rabbit (or maybe jackalope). ”Tasting everything! Also, what’s a past life?”
Li’Kalla, who had been chewing on some fried octopus tentacles, turned around to face Chopstick. Li’Kalla’s face, originally grinning and with happiness pouring out of every part, slowly dulled. ”You don’t have a past life…? Oh, I-I guess you don’t remember it...”
”Remember? ...Ohhhh.” Chopstick looked up, then poured the rest of the jackalope soup down her gullet and swallowed. ”I remember… Skraghnaphgh. A salesman named Skraghnaphgh. That’s all I remember.” She shrugged, and moved on to the caterpillar tart with cream and cacao. ”I think I might be Skraghnaphgh. But that doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t matter, anyway; I wasn’t alive back then. You?”
Li’Kalla had been listening intently, even going so far as to stop eating entirely. She tilted her head and looked at Chopstick with a mixture of pity and envy which quickly gave way to one of understanding. ”It may be a blessing, not remembering. This manor used to be my Family’s, a symbol of our status. I lived here throughout all my childhood. It was a good life, until… Until, well, I didn’t live here anymore.” A shudder went through her body and she wiped her eyes preemptively.
”Say, Choppy- I mean, Chopstick Eyes, you’re the Goddess of Markets, right? So, when you create markets, will you sell people in them?”
Why do people keep assuming that’s my name? thought the little god, or maybe mumbled. Out loud, she said, ”Sure. Why?”
”Oh, well, I just-” Li’Kalla rubbed her temples and then sighed, ”Can you make sure the people sold in them are not, uhm, hurt? You know...” She shrugged lamely and tried not to look directly at Chopstick.
Chopstick scoffed, waggling at Li’Kalla with a kebab. ”What kind of vendor would I be if I sold damaged goods? You need to get a sense of business, you do.”
Li’Kalla puffed out her cheeks, ”I-I didn’t mean it like that! More like, afterward? Like making sure they’re not sold to bad people.”
Her guest thought about it, and shrugged. ”I… don’t know, actually. Depends on the offer.”
Li’Kalla looked at all the food still on display, and after thinking for a while, she spoke. ”At least they will eat well while they’re under your care, I think.”
”Oh duh,” said Chopstick, with one eyebrow raised. ”Say, you know what? You can come check out my premises any time you want. See if it suits ya. C’mere, I’ll show you a special shortcut.” She beckoned.
It took Li’Kalla a moment before nodding and stepping a bit closer to Chopstick, ”... Okay! I’m ready to learn. Do you sell mak- Actually, let’s just focus on this first.”
”No, no, wait, do I sell what now? I’m sure I do! Mak… eovers? Makimono? Mako sharks?”
”Makeup!”
Choppy laughed. ”Oh buddy, have I got a show for you. Here.” She leaned in, cupped her hands around Li’Kalla’s ear, and whispered a secret.
It was a long secret, and a strange one. At times it was quite frightening. It settled in Li’Kalla’s brain in little pieces, like smuggler’s signs, scratched into the nooks and crannies of her head, hard to notice unless one knew what one was looking for- and then as clear as daylight. Above all, it was a wordless secret, though Chopstick Eyes was speaking in something like words. It could not be articulated- but now, it was known.
”That’s the shortcut,” said Chopstick Eyes. ”It shouldn’t be too hard to follow for a big girl god like you. Just don’t try to write it down, yeah? You might mess it up if you do.” Shrug. ”Some things don’t like being seen.”
Li’Kalla stood there confused, but at the same time knowing exactly what had just transpired. ”... You’re more creative than me when it comes to creating shortcuts, that’s certain.” She clasped her hands in front of herself and smiled demurely. ”I will visit you, I promise! Uhm, friend?”
Choppy grinned, fit to swallow the rest of the banquet, and spread all seventeen arms. ”Business buddy!” She seized Li’Kalla in a hug. The rain Goddess merely squeaked like a mouse at the sudden affection, but she slowly returned the friendly embrace.
With a flushed face, she spoke unsteadily, ”O-Of course! Business buddies! Business buddies, right!” She was eventually released.
”I’ll need to make some reservations. But you can stop by any time you like.” Chopstick looked out the window, to where the clouds were still streaming into the marble ring. ”Say, uh… You don’t… You don’t happen to have a ladder, by any chance?”
”Oh, uh… Sure. There should be a retractable one in the basement. I usually just very slowly float to the ring, you know?”
...Float?
”...Yeah, nah, I’m gonna go fetch the ladder. We’ll figure something out.”
And they did.
RIP MOPPY 1 LIKE = 1 GIANT IRON CAULDRON FULL OF LIQUOR 7500 likes
”Say, Choppy- I mean, Chopstick Eyes, you’re the Goddess of Markets, right? So, when you create markets, will you sell people in them?”
‘O shit that’s my ticket out’, said Chopstick. ‘yeet’, she said, and followed Moppy’s route outdoors.
Li’Kalla comes home and finds that someone’s been cooking up a storm.
Li’Kalla and Choppy get to know each other. They discuss food, past lives, and slavery.
Choppy tells Li’Kalla a secret shortcut to get into the Bazaar from Galbar, so that she can visit. This shortcut is The Route, an ever-changing, world-spanning network of passages and portals that acts as the Gateway to the Bazaar. It collapses if observed, so people and goods have to be smuggled in. 7 free points on that, of course.
Between the great stone trees of the Feasting Forest, a subtle tapping could be heard. Tk tk tk tk. It came from a sun-dappled, hidden little grotto, and it was Chopstick Eyes, working with a hammer and chisel to gently carve away one of the last Forest Shrines.
Above here, and beyond, crept a dense canopy. It was green and thick- could even be called lush, by the foolish or naive. But green as it was, this forest was not lively, only quietly, insidiously, alive.
No leaf of Phystene dwelt here, no bright river of Shengshi, nor any of Ashalla’s lively algs. None of Azura’s birds sang, and what few insects crawled were shapeless, odd-legged black things with no eyes. The foliage warped and clawed its way around the great stone trees of Vakk, with roots in the air and gnarled trunks bending down over the earth as if dripping. It was difficult to tell where the roots of one tree ended and the branches of another began. So densely covered were the twisted stone trees with hefty, drooping creepers, that somehow they seemed more alive than anything else in this mockery of a forest.
Tk tk tk, went the chisel on the stone.
Earlier.
Chopstick reached into her purse and pulled out a little centipede, held it in her bare fingers. She’d found it crawling around the lower levels of the Bazaar before she’d left. Maybe it and its like could do some good here.
She flicked it a few times, and it duplicated itself each time, each generation of duplicates acquiring more and more error and asymmetry. Then she set it on the ground.
The land was yet young and the soil was yet unspread, though some odd fungi had blown over from the Kick’s southern neighbor and started chewing up the rock, which was handy. Chopstick had covered her bare feet with some boots and swapped her neat dress for overalls, and was filling in a ditch when she came upon the thing.
It was brightly coloured, soft, and quite dead. Chopstick sampled it and found it to taste a little like snail, but not much, and mostly like Azura. She turned it around and around. It had a mouth, but only a little one.
Hm.
Chopstick lifted a finger and waited for a mote of ash to fall on it, which it did. There was a lot of ash around these days. Maybe that’s where all the stray souls had gone.
She rubbed it into the skin of the Phase Mote, and began to work.
Later.
The earth-worm had swum for hours through desiccating water and a strong current, and when it finally made landfall on the other side of the strait, it was exhausted. The land it left behind had been abruptly upheaved of late, forcing it to depart, but it was only a young worm, with little strength.
This place seemed calmer. The earth-worm crawled on, trying to crack rock; but this rock had a bitter and desolate taste, much unlike the other place. Perhaps there were easier meals. It crept on, into the forest.
A huge creature slid before it, and it stopped. Eyeless, limbless, but glowing with odd motes, the giant slug-beast didn’t notice the worm at all. It waved its tentacles and slithered on, along with a kind of trail. The worm waited until it had gone, though that seemed quite unnecessary, then continued in the opposite direction. It smelled food.
What’s this? Dead matter, but somehow different to the raw leaves. The worm did not recognize the fine pies, breads, and cakes that were before it, nor the stuffed duck, or the broth or the pork or anything else that lay on the shrine. But it recognized easy protein. Cooked meat was not so different from rotten meat, and it gorged itself, as scavengers do.
The worm did not notice the Phase Beast returning on the trail. It did not smell it, it did not hear it. It did not feel the tentacles reaching around its body.
But the Phase Beast saw it. The Phase Beast saw it very well.
And the Phase Beast was hungry.
Vakk had seemingly tuned out of reality as Choppy had done her work, almost in a trance yet very aware of what was happening immediately next to him. However, nothing happened next to him because life generally didn’t like him, or he just didn’t want to be bothered. Eventually, the Lord of Speech came out of his thoughts, violently shaking his head and flicking his tendrils around. He had yet to see what Choppy had done as he began to groggily speak, ”Are you quite done yet? I grow bored of waiting for you to..”
He finally took in what was going on around him.
”... Finish.”
Vakk looked at what had filled the forest of stone that he had created, merely inspecting it for a few moments before impatiently going back to Chopstick Eyes. He did not like how she had done so much more than he had, it upset him so much that he physically could not show it if he could. This was a transgression that could not go unanswered.
”You mock me with how much you managed to do as I… meditated.”
”You snooze, you lose,” Choppy shrugged, leaning on her shovel and watching the hapless earthworm dissolve in the translucent belly of the beast. Her flying-lantern shivered. She looked up and nudged Vakk playfully. ”Maybe you should’ve taken the shovel, ey?”
He frowned. ”Holding it is awkward,” Vakk complained, before he reached to pick up the shovel he had thrown aside. He looked at it, then hit the wrong end against the ground as he had before, clearly not having paid attention to how Choppy used it. He threw it away again, not wanting to hold the cursed object any longer.
”I can make this place better.”
”Oh?” Chopstick let her head rest on the backs of her hands, which were leaning on the shovel. She raised an eyebrow, smirking.
Vakk gave a light chuckle before he opened his mouth, seeming as if he were inhaling the air. His body relaxed and from from the small gaps between his teeth leaked a cloud before he exhaled, a thick fog spreading over Chopsticks and her creations. It was blinding, certainly, no mortal would be able to know where they were going. The fog blocked sight of the life Chopsticks had created, save for the translucent beings.
He let out a laugh as the dense fog settled. Revenge had been exacted.
”Much better.”
Chopstick stared at the resultant gloom, took off her straw hat and scratched her head. She harumphed and walked off into the fog. For a few seconds, she may as well have been in another Sphere.
”Well, this’ll get ‘em lost, alright,” she said from about five meters away. She reappeared. The flying-lantern crooned. ”But now they can’t see the shrines. I’ll have to… Hang on, I’m just gonna fix that real quick.”
Chopstick strolled over to her purse and rummaged, inserting first one arm, then the other, then several more, and then her whole torso into the accessory. ”Uh, hang on… Ah gotcha.” She retrieved a tall, wrought-iron lamp-post with a glass cage, and tk-tk’d to the flying-lantern, who approached.
”Just hold still for a second… There we go.” Chopstick lit a splint on the flying-lantern’s flame, then transferred it to the lamp-post. The post nodded to receive it. It blinked, the flame flickering momentarily, and looked around. It hopped out into the forest on stumpy little wrought-iron limbs, and was soon joined by several more of wood and stone; they vanished into the fog together.
Vakk cocked his head, ”Was the purpose not to get them lost, Chopstick Eyes? It seems you more want them to find that particular shrine.”
”I mean, I guess.” Chopstick scratched her head. ”I… I guess I do.”
He snapped his jaw before he raised his head above the treeline, he saw it stretch on for a long way. Eventually, he figured that it was not worth the time to argue the point, after all, Chopstick did help him raise this continent not too long ago. Vakk lowered his head back down to her level before he continued speaking, ”I suppose it is not too much of a problem. A minor detail such as this is fine for whatever purpose you need it to do.”
”Yeah. Whatever purpose...” Chopstick wasn’t scratching her head any more, but she still hadn’t looked up. ”Whatever… I need it to do.”
She stared into the mist.
”...Vakk,” she said, very softly. “Why did we build this forest?”
The Lord of Speech thought to himself for a moment, an eerie silence coming over the two as the fog stood between them. After those few moments of silence, Vakk spoke, his tone being comforting, ”We made this first because we wanted to. We wanted to do this together because we are friends, remember?” a tendril reached forward to shift her view towards him.
”...”
His words wrapped around her mind, around her very existence. They invaded her mind, gently persuading her that Vakk was truly someone she could trust.
”...Yeah. Because we’re friends.” She looked down at the shovel, gripping it with two hands. ”We made this place because we’re f͝r̀i̴en̨d̵s. And we wanted to. We wanted to...”
She looked up and watched the mutant phase motes patrolling the forest, delicately heaping their mouths with sacred meals. Nothing wholesome would ever grow here, and nothing good would ever thrive. It was a deeply cursed place, and it was good for one thing only.
“Ki̸ll̛,” she finished. ”We wanted to ̷k͞i̕l̶l͘ ̡toge̕t̕h͜e̸r.”
Vakk’s caring smile turned sinister at her words, his head drew nearer, ”Precisely.”
The words settled in. Slowly slowly, Chopstick ordered her thoughts and regained her lucidity. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and Vakk’s spell disappeared beneath the surface like gold in mud.
And then she stretched, yawning like a cat. ”Mmmrrnnrnaaah! Well, that’s fine by me. Time to wrap this one up, eh?”
Confusion hit the inner soul of Vakk, who was unable to properly process what Chopstick Eyes has just done. Had she simply shaken herself out of his words? Or had his words not had enough power to them? He could not tell and it showed when he simply stated, ”... What?”
In reality, that word was supposed to be more internal than it was as the sheer force of Chopstick Eyes suddenly changing tone made Vakk unable to properly think of what to do or even say.
”Aww, don’t be like that. It’s a beautiful day!” Chopstick spun around the shovel and skipped off into the woods, accompanied swiftly by her lantern. ”I’m gonna go snatch some cursed breakfast, so gawk or come with, up to you. Catchya~”
And she was gone.
He stayed there, uncertain of what just happened, but he refused to question it as that would probably confuse him even more. Vakk sighed to himself before he spoke, knowing that she may not even hear him through the fog, ”Goodbye, Chopstick Eyes.”
It’s way past my bedtime!
Choppy constructs a forest on the new continent, under, over and around Vakk’s stone trees. It’s a deeply unnatural place with unnatural life, much like herself. It has very little biodiversity, but what lives there seems to do surprisingly well considering that they’re growing on the remains of Veradax.
The forest is riddled with little shrines and pagodas that spontaneously conjure every kind of delicacy. This glut is reserved for gods and the local creatures, huge, slug-like spirits developed from Phase Motes. These Phase Beasts take little interest in outsiders, and just spend their days eating whatever the shrines provide and leaving the dishes clean for new food to appear.
Phase Beasts don’t like to find their shrines empty, though. Strangers that gorge themselves on the sacred food find it more and more difficult to perceive the Phase Beasts, while Phase Beasts find it easier and easier to locate them.
And then they get eaten.
Vakk wakes up after some time has passed, surprised to find that Choppy has finished the Feasting Forest. Not to be outdone, again, he fills the place with a dense fog to be even more disorientating. Choppy thinks that this’ll mess up the visibility of the shrines, so she sets a few living lanterns loose in the forest to illuminate the banquet. No Might spent on that, they’re basically just Reverse Lanterns but terrestrial and with a colder attitude.
Obviously, there’s no reason for Choppy to make something so explicitly lethal. As she realises this, she starts to break out of Vakk’s spell. Vakk briskly renews the enchantment, strengthening their bond.
Choppy rationalises her actions by deciding that she actually loved needlessly killing things all along. Vakk has a long wtf moment at how easily and how happily she changes attitude.
That’s all, folks!
Vakk Might -2 FP for creating the permanent fog in the Feasting Forest
0 MP, 9 FP
Choppy housekeeping
-4 for the Feasting Forest (+2 to Cuisine) -1 for Phase Beasts
Chopstick had been gliding for some time. The winds that swept from the Blue, though rather inconsistent, were more than enough to hold her aloft if she was careful to follow them; it made for a swift and random journey and she had seen many things.
She saw islands with jungles, and birds of every colour, a sure sign that Azura had been nearby. Another was wrung with purple vines, vines that seemed tasty, if... very, very spicy. She saw bright colours rippling their tentacles on a hidden island just beneath the water.
She saw the continent where she had left the other Chopstick, now starting to brighten up with orange and grey-green, and full of all kinds of new scars. She saw the new continent, Pāṟa, on which a darker, dimmer green was forming. She saw the vast mass of Swahitteh-Tendlepog, flickering with strange energies, when she could see it at all.
Eventually she came back to the islands, one of which was oh shit oh fuck oh crap oh no.
Chopstick dipped the glider's wing as far as it could go, veering north to avoid the spectacle of an island burning at midnight. The Phoenix gobbled down charred meat and bone, and when it was done she could hear the crinkling sound of something chewing charcoal. If nothing else, the heat billowing from the island worked in her favour, and she caught an updraft and departed swiftly, hoping she wasn't followed.
Phystene would be pissed.
She was some ways north-east of the archipelago, now, and entering a dense bank of clouds. It was the first time she had navigated the like, but with a bit of divine oomph, she managed to climb to the higher-altitude winds without getting too wet. From here, she danced around the cloud pillars as through a landscape of grey, lit here and there by flashes of lightning that burned within the clouds.
Chopstick squinted. Was it just her, or was there a silhouette of something inside one of those clouds?
Something like... a ring?
...
Oh you BET I can make that. Descending again, Chopstick circled the ring one more time, then angled herself towards it. You bet I can hit that DEAD center-
The world disappeared around her and she crashed into a lake.
Chopstick Eyes fished her head out of the steamy spa, shook water out of her eyes and looked around. Her kite lay floating beside her. Beyond, a pretty little fogged-up landscape, and a manor house, well-maintained.
"...Huh."
Beta Chopstick flies around noticing things. She spots the Phoenix and steers well away from it, then takes Li'Kalla's gateway as a target and flies straight through it.
Vakk was in glee, knowing that his mere words could break those who would be considered weak-willed like Li’Kalla. His crooked smile was as large as ever, the sickeningly joyous feeling coming from him was perhaps the most terrifying thing about him. However, his job was not yet done and now he could be found moving across Galbar, namely towards the continent that had arisen while he and that damned puzzle god secured his gateway from other gods. It was that riddle that continued to mock the Lord of Speech, allowing him to know that Eurysthenes could desecrate his home at any point. This thought angered Vakk, but not enough to overshadow the joy he had felt from watching Li’Kalla break.
His reflection ended as came across the northern coast of that continent that had arisen so quickly. It was bleak, at least to him, the only notable thing that he had seen being the exit of the river that bore Seihdhara’s ichor, but he did not concern himself with the blood river quite yet. Perhaps it was time to add his own touch to this bleak and desolate place, however, he knew that he needed to make a proper ally in this realm that the Architect had crafted, and so he began to search upon the continent for any god that he thought he could convince to be on his side.
Fortunately, in these early days of the universe, gods were cheap.
The big worm was spotted from a long way away and the slapping of bare feet on beach sand rushed up to meet him. The newborn sun glinted off the edge of a huge, curved knife.
“Way hey! What’s sizzling?” Chopstick Eyes, too, was grinning fit to swallow a man. A floating lantern accompanied her.
Vakk craned his head to face the god, silently staring at the being for a mere few moments before he broke his silence, ”Ah, Chopstick Eyes, the merchant goddess. It is… good to see you.” His massive form moved forward, his neck lowering his head to where it was a few mere steps away from Chopstick Eyes, who ran, jumped, and promptly booped his nonexistent nose with a fingertip. They stared at each other, despite neither having eyes.
”You are a strange one.”
”I am? Huh.” Chopstick smiled and shrugged. ”Didn’t even know I was a goddess, actually. But that explains a lot.” She stretched, looking out over the ocean, and cracked her knuckles. ”Snazzy place here, ey Vakk?”
”It is a rock I have yet to explore,” he looked to the continent proper before giving a disgustingly, raspy grunt as if many people were doing it around the same time. ”I do not care much for this boring rock, it hardly knows a good talk,” Vakk said, his gaze going back to the one wielding the curved knife. His wicked smile once more came back to him as he formulated his plan to ally this goddess.
”You know, you and I share similar purposes within this realm, Chopstick Eyes. Did you know that? To beings meant to convince others into making the best deals.”
”...I have a purpose?”
”Indeed, we all do, Merchant Goddess.”
”Oh okay,” she replied. ”I figure… That was why I made the Bazaar. I just had to do it.” She looked up. ”What’s yours?”
Vakk allowed a grin to come across his face, his deep voice letting out a small chuckle, ”I talk. A merchant’s best tool.” A tendril slithered forwards, out of the sand to boop Chopstick’s nose as he continued to grin at her. She leaned into the boop. ”As such, I imagine that we can become close partners, yes?” he asked, his form circling the goddess, inspecting the blade that she carried.
”Okay, sure! Ten hut!” Chopstick snapped to salute. Then she clambered atop her newfound worm-steed until she found a comfortable spot, followed by her flying-lantern. ”What’s our first project?”
”Well…” Vakk began by sending a tendril to wrap around Chopstick’s waist and pull her off of him, setting her on the ground gingerly. She let out a small ‘awwww’.
”I suppose we can work on creating a bit of land, establish our branch,” he suggested before his head turned to the merchant goddess, ”Or we could make something to proclaim our… association. Perhaps a forest to watch the mortals get lost in?” Vakk’s words held a certain sway, making his suggestions seem more like the obviously right one while clouding other thoughts. The Lord of Speech grinned at his own suggestion.
Chopstick thought it over. This didn’t take her long. ”Okeydokey,” she said. ”Let’s do it!” Whatever glaze of enchantment Vakk smeared over his words had quickly sunk in deep, and settled in so snugly that the merchant goddess did not even recognise that the idea was not her own.
And then the moon exploded.
Unholy fire seared Heaven, murking the blue air with broken stone and tar. The scream of a dying Sphere echoed down into their godly ears, and they watched, in slow motion, the shape of the rain of black rock as the cloudless storm of Verdax began.
”...” Vakk looked to Chopstick eyes then back where the moon had been. She was silent. Only the flying-lantern remained, hiding in her shadow.
”Is that the power of the Architect?” he asked, mainly to himself but terrified of the possibility that the one who gave them their power could destroy a moon with such power. His gaze refused to move from the position where the moon had been, and now he finally felt fear for the first time in this realm.
”Don’t know, don’t care,” said Chopstick Eyes. Her head was down. A slip of paper had emerged from her purse, and she was writing something, writing with a needle-sharp pen in black, black ink.
Vakk hid an expression of pure shock that she could ignore such an event, a face of indifference to mask his true feelings, not that many could tell. Legitimately curious, the god gazed down upon the strange goddess and began to visually inspect her and the oddity that was her body. ”You are not concerned that we could be vaporized within an instant?” he asked, poking her back as a part of his inspection. She wheezed a laugh, and slapped him off.
”After all I’ve been through? You couldn’t vaporise me if you tried,” she said, and folded the paper into an envelope. She fished through her purse until she found a fractal stamp, licked its back, and stuck it to the letter, where it iterated colourfully.
She held the letter to the wind in the tips of two fingers. A great gust blew from nowhere. She loosened her grip just slightly, and the letter vanished.
”Why does everyone else get to throw giant rocks,” said the Market Lord, ”And not me?”
”You can throw rocks, any being with the capacity to breathe can throw a rock,” Vakk commented, a bit of snark coming to his voice. He twisted his head to be in front of Chopstick Eyes to begin speaking once more, ”If you wish to throw mere rocks, then do so. But that is an act by those who rely on their brutish nature, you and I are not such.”
”Speak for yourself,” said Chopstick Eyes.
The wind became a gale, sweeping the long fronds of Chopstick’s hair out over the ocean. The little flying-lantern clutched her in dread. She folded her arms over her chest to keep from shivering as something passed over the sun.
Kites, gliders, parachutes, airfoils of every kind, hundreds of thousands of them, swarmed on the wind and swooped into the stone rain. Some were as small as condors, others as vast as mountains, and each dragged behind them a huge net, woven from steel wire. One by one the shards of Veradax were caught by Chopstick’s gliders, and the gliders carried them home.
Some were carried only a short distance, others far. But the kites were swarming, and as they swarmed they circled on a circular wind, depositing their stone in a wavering, messy, vast and solid pile, now here and now there, now in the ocean, now on land, until two great heaps of rock had arisen: a great mountain, towering up on the beach of Kirron’s Boast, and a little continent, a hundred times larger.
Chopstick Eyes beheld her commission. She brushed off the flying-lantern, and smiled. Then she crouched, paused, leaped straight upwards, performed a perfect spin in midair, and, sounding her loudest kiai, struck the mountain with her foot. The stone exploded, and its remains shot into the new continent with such force that the hunks of rubble fused into a single, solid landmass.
Chopstick landed back on the beach with a splat.
Vakk watched intently, watching as this goddess performed such feats of power that he did not think gods were capable of. He did not believe that they could form continents in such a fashion, it was simply astonishing. The gaze went to Chopstick as he sent a tendril to help her off the sand. However, now he felt a need to do something, mostly in an effort to show that he was as strong as these gods. He snapped his jaws in frustration as his lower half began to dig into the sand of Kirron’s continent.
”Rising ground, All around, A god’s power, All is bound, In this hour!”
Suddenly, the ground underneath the newly formed continent began to rise into the air, making large cliff faces that towered above Kirron’s continent. Sharp rocks came between the two continents, some of them digging into the continent Chopstick had made, many ending abruptly mere meters from the older continent. Below the water, large jagged pillars held up the small continent, yet still allowing for small spaces to swim around.
”Oh...” murmured Chopstick. ”Sweet.”
”Would you like to see what we have made?”
”Yeah! Let’s go build that forest,” said Chopstick, pulling herself up onto Vakk’s hide again. He grumbled as she did so, obviously not liking being a steed for her.
Vakk launched himself into the air, arcing his way down to the continent, just on the edge of the cliff. A faint ”Yee-haw!” was heard miles away.
The new earth was rough, though hot and solid with the energy of Chopstick’s kick. The waters of the World Sea had yet to fully boil off, and it filled deep crevasses and little rock-puddles alike, scattered over the jagged stone. Dead kites lay sealed into the orvite, some still flicking little lines of silk into the wind. Spires and valleys made for an uneven ride, though Vakk managed to slither his way between the cliffs with ease. Chopstick looked at their work with some astonishment. Not a single tree to be seen, and already the land was hard to navigate. ”Wotcha thinkin’?”
”I am thinking that you get off of me before I throw you somewhere else,” Vakk growled, twisting his head to gaze at her before he pulled her off with a tendril to set her on the ground. She whined. His gaze shifted to the landscape for a moment before indifference came back to him. ”Not bad,” were the words he chose, though he probably would have liked it better if he hadn’t felt the need to raise the place up. However, it was fitting as this continent was clearly superior and thus must stand above the other.
”You better believe it ain’t bad. It’s awesome!” Choppy had recovered from Vakk’s rejection and was kicking rocks around a gully. ”We need a name for this place! It’s too good not to market. Got any ideas?”
Vakk thought for a few moments, ”How about Pāṟa?”
”...I was thinking Rockville Jaggedton,” said Chopstick. ”Or maybe Chopstickland. Trademarks are very important.”
”Those are terrible names. At least try to be subtle, Chopstick Eyes.”
”Rude!” She stuck her tongue out. ”Alright, fine, we’ll keep it simple. How about ‘the Kick’?”
Once more did the Lord of Talk think to himself, before speaking to Chopsticks ”Very well.” His form moved forward, along the rocks and slopes to make it to a particularly high part of the continent. He tapped the rocks for a moment before speaking once more, ”I believe this will be a good place for the forest.”
”Perfect,” said Chopstick, scampering around a spire with her lantern. Behind it lay several crates, some big saplings growing in canvas sacks, and two shovels.
She threw Vakk one shovel, and cracked open a crate with the other. It was full of soil.
”Let’s get to it,” she said.
Vakk merely gazed at the tool, letting it hit the rocks. He had no clue what it was or what it was used for, apparently the concept of a shovel was never present where he had come from. His head went back to looking at Chopstick Eyes before he finally spoke, ”What is this… thing?” A tendril poked the tool, before he picked it up and smacked the wrong end against the ground.
”Well, to call a spade a spade...” said Chopstick, who broke down cackling.
After poking the ground for a while longer, he eventually threw it away, annoyed that it didn’t do anything. Vakk then said, ”While you use that, I will do what I can.”
The god thrust his tendrils into the ground and from the earth erupted trees of rock, spiraling and splitting trees that in the end left a sinister mark on the land as they lurched towards the ground. He let out a sinister chuckle as his portion of the forest truly looked as if the trees would kill someone if they got lost within it. They cast long dark shadows against the sun that remained sitting in the sky, however, Vakk continued to tower above it all as the tree line continue to stretch along the uneven ground of the Kick. ”Now this is beauty,” he said with an evil glee in his voice.
Chopstick licked one of the trees. ”...Tastes like rock.”
”That is because they are.”
”Oh. Okay.”
She heaped another spadeful of soil onto the ground.
”Too. Slow.”
”Don’t rush me! All good things take time,” said Chopstick, patting down the soil with her foot.
”And yet, I have done much in mere seconds.”
Chopstick stuck out her tongue and kept on shoveling.
The Li’Kalla encounter has left Vakk incredibly smug, and he rolls around looking for new meat to swindle.
Surprise! It’s Choppy. The two get to know each other.
Vakk convinces Choppy to make a big ol’ forest for people to get lost in. It’s not hard. Maybe that’s because Vakk is getting really good at this. Maybe Choppy’s just an idiot.
Then the moon explodes.
Choppy gets jealous of all these other gods blowing things up and throwing rocks around. She hires a swarm of kites to catch falling rocks from Veradax and collect them into a pile, then fuses them into a landmass with a big kick. This also, hopefully, oxidises most of the orvium into its inert form. Most of it.
Not to be outdone, Vakk speaks a divine Word, causing the newly formed landmass to rise further from the sea, surrounding it with high and jagged cliffs, spikes and spires. Now it’s taller than Kirron’s paltry spit of sand!
Choppy hitches a ride and they check out the new place. They argue about names for the continent. Vakk suggests Pāṟa, Choppy settles for The Kick.
Then it’s time to build forests. Vakk raises giant twisted trees made of rock, making the terrain even harder to navigate and easier to get stuck or break a leg in.
Choppy, uh… gets out a shovel.
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Vakk 6 Might, 23 FP
-1 MP to convince Choppy that a gloomy forest is totally the right business model. Unlocks Manipulation Portfolio for Vakk -5 MP to take Manipulation Portfolio. -8 FP to elevate the Kick, enlarging it and adorning it with high cliffs and spires. -4 FP to create the rock tree forest on Kick
0 MP, 11 FP
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Chopstick Eyes
-8 FP to create the Kick, broken down into 4 FP to collect the falling rocks, adding 2 MP towards unlocking Kites, and 4 FP to fuse them into a landmass.
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