Cyclone
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Lord Zee
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Bio
Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago 2010-ish!
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
Word of my splendor:
Most Recent Posts
Sure. I'll PM you the next Balon post when I make it. If you log on before I do that, I suppose you could write a segment or just fill me in on what needs to happen in the collab.
Just don't turn this into WoW, where random drunkards (that often happen to be pandas) can just run around as one man armies. I don't know why, but the way you said "really, really angry mayor" made me picture a grotesquely fat man with a monocle hobbling around bashing people to death with a beer mug. I should probably get some sleep before I go even more crazy...
Fangir and Soran stood in the new shrine room, near a pillar. neither were taken aback when the column's shadow coalesced into their master. The shadowy figure looked towards Soran. Its vacant face did not move, but a voice emanated outwards nonetheless. "Report."
Soran replied with his harsh cadence, "Our focus was on erected a more permanent heart for your greatness. That is done, as are the quarters below and this shrine. I am sure you will find the facilities to par with your expectations."
Shaige replied with an insidious whisper, "Indeed. I have already inspected your work, and it exceeded my expectations. Well done." The shadow's gaze now fell on Fangir. Once again, he said, "Report."
The archdruid began to speak, "Most of my tribesmen were assisting Soran, though I put every spare hand to work on other tasks. The battlefield above was cleaned. We have put the enemy's armor and weapons into storage. Soran oversaw the cremation of the corpses..."
The shadow mused to himself, "So, Soran has lied to Fangir. How perfidious. Ah, though he was clever to consider what the humans' reactions to sacrifices might be, it is unnecessary. The imps do not understand just how savage and barbaric these forest tribes are...they are no strangers to blood sacrifices."
Fangir had been continuing, "A foundry and metal smelter is being built. We shall melt down our enemies' armor and weapons, mine our hills, and then arm ourselves with proper weapons." He declared, "For too long have we kept to the old ways. If we are to be strong and defeat the vile crusaders and all the other tribes, then we must work metal."
Shaige answered, "Are you a fool? The crusaders fell victim to my spirits; their armor is in pristine condition. Their equipment is ten times as valuable as a disguise than it is as mere scrap metal. A foundry is indeed good. I need an army that is well equipped. However, you will have no metal to work. Your smeltery would produce smoke. That smoke would either choke your entire tribe to death in these caves, or it would have to go to the surface and reveal our presence. And the other tribes are not your enemies, the crusaders are. The other tribes will flock to my side easily enough, and you will bury any petty feuds."
Fangir was unfazed. "Fine. We shall keep the armor that is in good condition and melt the rest. Soran too was glad to point out that furnaces produce smoke. I am not a fool. We will simply block off a section of the caverns and route all the exhaust into there. What does it matter if we turn some vacant hole into a soot-filled inferno?"
Then, Fangir vehemently addressed his master's last point. "The other tribes ARE our enemies. They hate us more than they do the crusaders, as they are not yet the ones under attack. They would sooner die than join you, now that you have sided with us. And now, I must go see about leading a foraging expedition. I expect the other tribes will soon regain their courage and resume their trespassing on our land. When that happens, we must have more food in storage."
Shaige was impressed, albeit taken aback. Fangir had more wit that the Keeper had given him credit for, and he possessed no small amount of courage to stand up to his master. Humbled, though refusing to betray any sign of it, Shaige said, "Wait. When I returned to this place, I passed your razed village. It was filled with looters. If they were not from your tribe, they were from another."
Fangir stopped in his tracks, having already began to walk off. He turned around, enraged, and hissed, "I shall gather my druids. We will kill every man who would walk on the Mutig tribe's land, looting our fallen and sifting through their homes."
Shaige simply commanded, "No. You shall remain here."
Fangir seethed in anger. Before the archdruid could speak, Shaige continued.
"You say that they are your enemies, that they would sooner die than submit to my rule? So be it. We will make an example of that tribe, but not yet. Some small skirmish would achieve nothing. You are to finish construction of the forge and smelter. Arm your tribesmen and druids. Prepare them. Soon, we shall go on the offensive. But until then, not a single man is to leave this cavern."
With that, Shaige vanished. He reappeared further up, where his followers were busy scrambling about and doing their work. There was no need to hide himself in the shadows or go invisible, the sight of him only commanded respect and adoration, and the people worked harder in his presence. In his wanderings, Shaige came across a small storage room, out of the way. Inside, he found nothing except a pile of tiny idols and figurines. There were bears, wolves, spiders, and all sorts of beasts, carved from bone and wood. Every last idol had been smashed and thrown into this heap, as the Mutig tribe had forsaken their spirits after the battle and turned to worshiping Shaige instead.
Shaige was touched, in a way. He treated his enemies with ruthlessness, but his followers he was benevolent towards, at least more so than most Keepers. The shadow wandered back into the busier tunnels. The shadow's hand touched the head of the first man he saw, and the tribesman instantly fell asleep. Shaige's shadowy form enveloped the resting body of his follower, and a moment later the two reappeared far below, in Shaige dungeon heart. The Keeper set about making a new creature, blessing this human with his power.
Second Minion: 0/5
Foundry and Smelter: 0/5
Soran replied with his harsh cadence, "Our focus was on erected a more permanent heart for your greatness. That is done, as are the quarters below and this shrine. I am sure you will find the facilities to par with your expectations."
Shaige replied with an insidious whisper, "Indeed. I have already inspected your work, and it exceeded my expectations. Well done." The shadow's gaze now fell on Fangir. Once again, he said, "Report."
The archdruid began to speak, "Most of my tribesmen were assisting Soran, though I put every spare hand to work on other tasks. The battlefield above was cleaned. We have put the enemy's armor and weapons into storage. Soran oversaw the cremation of the corpses..."
The shadow mused to himself, "So, Soran has lied to Fangir. How perfidious. Ah, though he was clever to consider what the humans' reactions to sacrifices might be, it is unnecessary. The imps do not understand just how savage and barbaric these forest tribes are...they are no strangers to blood sacrifices."
Fangir had been continuing, "A foundry and metal smelter is being built. We shall melt down our enemies' armor and weapons, mine our hills, and then arm ourselves with proper weapons." He declared, "For too long have we kept to the old ways. If we are to be strong and defeat the vile crusaders and all the other tribes, then we must work metal."
Shaige answered, "Are you a fool? The crusaders fell victim to my spirits; their armor is in pristine condition. Their equipment is ten times as valuable as a disguise than it is as mere scrap metal. A foundry is indeed good. I need an army that is well equipped. However, you will have no metal to work. Your smeltery would produce smoke. That smoke would either choke your entire tribe to death in these caves, or it would have to go to the surface and reveal our presence. And the other tribes are not your enemies, the crusaders are. The other tribes will flock to my side easily enough, and you will bury any petty feuds."
Fangir was unfazed. "Fine. We shall keep the armor that is in good condition and melt the rest. Soran too was glad to point out that furnaces produce smoke. I am not a fool. We will simply block off a section of the caverns and route all the exhaust into there. What does it matter if we turn some vacant hole into a soot-filled inferno?"
Then, Fangir vehemently addressed his master's last point. "The other tribes ARE our enemies. They hate us more than they do the crusaders, as they are not yet the ones under attack. They would sooner die than join you, now that you have sided with us. And now, I must go see about leading a foraging expedition. I expect the other tribes will soon regain their courage and resume their trespassing on our land. When that happens, we must have more food in storage."
Shaige was impressed, albeit taken aback. Fangir had more wit that the Keeper had given him credit for, and he possessed no small amount of courage to stand up to his master. Humbled, though refusing to betray any sign of it, Shaige said, "Wait. When I returned to this place, I passed your razed village. It was filled with looters. If they were not from your tribe, they were from another."
Fangir stopped in his tracks, having already began to walk off. He turned around, enraged, and hissed, "I shall gather my druids. We will kill every man who would walk on the Mutig tribe's land, looting our fallen and sifting through their homes."
Shaige simply commanded, "No. You shall remain here."
Fangir seethed in anger. Before the archdruid could speak, Shaige continued.
"You say that they are your enemies, that they would sooner die than submit to my rule? So be it. We will make an example of that tribe, but not yet. Some small skirmish would achieve nothing. You are to finish construction of the forge and smelter. Arm your tribesmen and druids. Prepare them. Soon, we shall go on the offensive. But until then, not a single man is to leave this cavern."
With that, Shaige vanished. He reappeared further up, where his followers were busy scrambling about and doing their work. There was no need to hide himself in the shadows or go invisible, the sight of him only commanded respect and adoration, and the people worked harder in his presence. In his wanderings, Shaige came across a small storage room, out of the way. Inside, he found nothing except a pile of tiny idols and figurines. There were bears, wolves, spiders, and all sorts of beasts, carved from bone and wood. Every last idol had been smashed and thrown into this heap, as the Mutig tribe had forsaken their spirits after the battle and turned to worshiping Shaige instead.
Shaige was touched, in a way. He treated his enemies with ruthlessness, but his followers he was benevolent towards, at least more so than most Keepers. The shadow wandered back into the busier tunnels. The shadow's hand touched the head of the first man he saw, and the tribesman instantly fell asleep. Shaige's shadowy form enveloped the resting body of his follower, and a moment later the two reappeared far below, in Shaige dungeon heart. The Keeper set about making a new creature, blessing this human with his power.
Second Minion: 0/5
Foundry and Smelter: 0/5
I see. Maybe you shouldn't have spoiled what was coming by saying that Lord Rain was wrong about thinking he would easily win the battle, but that was still a good post either way.
The gaseous bowels of the Source hummed and cackled with power. Bursts of blindingly bright, unadulterated raw magic were being hurled everywhere. Red, destructive beams shot through the gas giant feasting on its matter, like worms in an apple. Green blasts, the energy of creation, exploded and pulled into existence new matter from the nothingness of space. So the incessant battling between the Carver and the Ripper continued, as it had done so for several days now.
The tireless, massive, and nigh-invincible entities continued to fight, the scene hardly different than it had been at the start. The two were truly locked in a stalemate now, and the weary Zadok was becoming increasingly less help to the Carver. It was now becoming a burden, shielding the tiny Anti-Keeper's physical form against the Source's environment, the radiation of its core, and the destructive magic that was everywhere. At last, the Carver decided to speak out, "Zadok? Are you still conscious? You will not last long as conditions continue to worsen. You should retreat while there is still time. I must stay here. I will try to assist you in your escape."
The Carver soaked up the magical energy in the air like a sponge. Shock waves of pain rippled through its incorporeal body as the destructive magic that stained the Source crimson were allowed into the magical being. Still, the vast majority of the energy was neutral. The Carver's form broke down that energy as a living creature might digest food, and then converted it into the verdant energy of creation. Zadok would be reinvigorated as his ally channeled the green light into his body, renewing his energy and healing any wounds that he might have sustained. Then, the leftover energy of creation swirled around Zadok, creating a shield. Without such a buffer, traversing the Source's gut with all the heat, pressure, and winds would be suicidal.
The Carver's firm grip that suspended Zadok within began to fade away. When he was ready, the Anti-Keeper would now be capable of escaping from the inside of his ally. It would be wise to time his retreat well and move quickly, so as to not allow the Ripper a chance to intervene.
________________
Balon scoffed at the puny thing that walked beside him, carrying in tow the dead eels and runners like some sort of janitor. "Lots of little things like you have tried to fight me, and lots of little bodies were devoured by maggots and withered away beneath the rains," Balon hissed. "If our master ever gives me the chance, I would gladly end you."
The giant looked away for a moment, visibly adjusting his hold on his massive spear. Even the slightest of movements from the giant forcibly jerked the water around this way and that. After a few more seconds, Balon suddenly jabbed his spear towards Enly'air with the speed of lightning. The spear's tip was about as wide as she was, and the thing would have been more likely to cut her in half than impale her. However, the spear's point stopped halfway to its target. Balon guffawed, hoping to have silenced the annoying human with that feigned attack. The inky veil over the girl's face would have hid any signs of terror, but he still suspected that he had nearly scared her to death.
After that, Balon slowly trudged through the black tunnels alongside Enly'air. Satisfied with himself, he made no more commotion. The going was painfully slow, as each of the giant's strides was equal to a half dozen of the construct's. As he walked, more and more chunks of metal fell off of his cracked armor. The suit was ruined beyond repair. Bah, it's not as if I needed it anyways, he thought to himself. My skin is thicker and stronger than the leather armor of humans, and no arrows can pierce deep enough to do anything save annoy me.
The tireless, massive, and nigh-invincible entities continued to fight, the scene hardly different than it had been at the start. The two were truly locked in a stalemate now, and the weary Zadok was becoming increasingly less help to the Carver. It was now becoming a burden, shielding the tiny Anti-Keeper's physical form against the Source's environment, the radiation of its core, and the destructive magic that was everywhere. At last, the Carver decided to speak out, "Zadok? Are you still conscious? You will not last long as conditions continue to worsen. You should retreat while there is still time. I must stay here. I will try to assist you in your escape."
The Carver soaked up the magical energy in the air like a sponge. Shock waves of pain rippled through its incorporeal body as the destructive magic that stained the Source crimson were allowed into the magical being. Still, the vast majority of the energy was neutral. The Carver's form broke down that energy as a living creature might digest food, and then converted it into the verdant energy of creation. Zadok would be reinvigorated as his ally channeled the green light into his body, renewing his energy and healing any wounds that he might have sustained. Then, the leftover energy of creation swirled around Zadok, creating a shield. Without such a buffer, traversing the Source's gut with all the heat, pressure, and winds would be suicidal.
The Carver's firm grip that suspended Zadok within began to fade away. When he was ready, the Anti-Keeper would now be capable of escaping from the inside of his ally. It would be wise to time his retreat well and move quickly, so as to not allow the Ripper a chance to intervene.
________________
Balon scoffed at the puny thing that walked beside him, carrying in tow the dead eels and runners like some sort of janitor. "Lots of little things like you have tried to fight me, and lots of little bodies were devoured by maggots and withered away beneath the rains," Balon hissed. "If our master ever gives me the chance, I would gladly end you."
The giant looked away for a moment, visibly adjusting his hold on his massive spear. Even the slightest of movements from the giant forcibly jerked the water around this way and that. After a few more seconds, Balon suddenly jabbed his spear towards Enly'air with the speed of lightning. The spear's tip was about as wide as she was, and the thing would have been more likely to cut her in half than impale her. However, the spear's point stopped halfway to its target. Balon guffawed, hoping to have silenced the annoying human with that feigned attack. The inky veil over the girl's face would have hid any signs of terror, but he still suspected that he had nearly scared her to death.
After that, Balon slowly trudged through the black tunnels alongside Enly'air. Satisfied with himself, he made no more commotion. The going was painfully slow, as each of the giant's strides was equal to a half dozen of the construct's. As he walked, more and more chunks of metal fell off of his cracked armor. The suit was ruined beyond repair. Bah, it's not as if I needed it anyways, he thought to himself. My skin is thicker and stronger than the leather armor of humans, and no arrows can pierce deep enough to do anything save annoy me.
Hmm... I had actually been thinking of Balon simply summoning another current to throw her around, since she is probably right about being too fast for him. And Balon just picked up his spear and staggered her, with no adverse effects. 
Alright, alright. I won't do any cheeky bypasses. :P
Logic is overpowered, anyways.
Alright, alright. I won't do any cheeky bypasses. :P
Logic is overpowered, anyways.
Hmm...speakig of orders, I'm tossing around whether Balon should do anything to Enly'air, and if so, to what extent. I try to think about what the characte would do. On one hand, I'm sure Balon would love to smash her. However, he's probably not terribly eager to throw away his life or get his leg torn off again.
Meh, I might just have to do a Carver/Ripper post while I think about that. It's about time for them to see some more action anyways.
Meh, I might just have to do a Carver/Ripper post while I think about that. It's about time for them to see some more action anyways.
No, I thought it was a good length. Detailed yet not to the point that it became a drag.
Only thing I don't understand is disposing of Scutra. It seems to me that Clotho is bipolar, thinking of Scutra as her best worker only to wake up the next day and tell the new guy to kill him. I suppose Baudrii would have just been following orders.
Only thing I don't understand is disposing of Scutra. It seems to me that Clotho is bipolar, thinking of Scutra as her best worker only to wake up the next day and tell the new guy to kill him. I suppose Baudrii would have just been following orders.
To Shaige's satisfaction, a shrine had been erected in his honor. It was there that he found Fangir and Soran. The Mutig tribesmen that were there, offering their prayer and reverence to the altar, were ushered out. It would seem that the Mutig tribe were truly and utterly his now. That was good; soon enough Shaige would put them all to good use. Before revealing himself to his two foremost subordinates, both of whom stood statuesque, the Keeper took several moments to regard this newly built wing of the city.
Though Shaige perhaps didn't even realize it himself, his presence had an intoxicating effect. Even in the form of a mere shadow, he exuded an aura of authority and inspiration. While this had no doubt contributed to the Mutig tribe coming under his absolute control, it also made them feel free. It made them eager and creative, and gave them an initiative that mere slaves didn't possess. Indeed, Shaige had left no orders or instructions. His followers had simply taken it upon themselves to build the shrine, and they had done so perfectly, as if they shared their master's mind.
The altar was neither pauper nor makeshift, as it was enameled with gemstones and covered in engravings. Still, it managed to retain a humble and simplistic look; the stone slab hadn't been smoothed, merely covered with cloth, and a small stone idol was all that crowned the chantry. The room itself had been transformed from a dank, dark cavity in the earth into a place of awe. Mosaic tiles of carmine, ebony, and ochre covered the perfectly leveled floor. Great, chiseled columns were spaced at regular intervals, supporting a high ceiling. Walls of perfectly hewn stone bricks lined the walls about halfway up, before giving way to the natural cavern walls which had been smoothed and engraved. Many of the engravings on the wall and shrines were of significance, either magical symbols or scripture in the demonic language. The humans had simply been compelled by their imaginations to carve such images, oblivious to and uncaring about their origins or meanings.
This chamber in the cavern had dripped incessantly and possessed several small waterfalls that cascaded down into dark recesses. The waterfalls were rerouted and turned into fountains. Near the shrine, two masive stone serpents protruded from the wall behind, the statues' mouths serving as fountains. The majority of the water poured down into the subterranean rivers and aquifers far below, but some was rerouted into a separate antechamber. Well hidden from the rest of the room beneath the arch of the giant serpents' necks, two spiral staircases descended below the shrine. At the bottom were three heavy-set, locked doors. This section of the temple was off limits to any save Shaige's attendants, which at the time consisted only of Soran and the other nine imps.
One door led to the quarters of the aforementioned attendants, so that they would always be on hand. Another door, far larger and ornate than the other two, led to a small sanctuary. The antechamber was almost entirely filled by a massive, red fountain that stood directly beneath the shrine above. This was a new dungeon heart for Shaige. A tiny yet constant stream of water trickled down from above, ever diluting the crimson fluid. Many equally tiny whirlpools revealed that there were drains inside the fountain, emptying out its contents into the river below. The moving waters stirred the fountain and made it bubble, and a strange, magical mist wafted up from the simmering and foreboding solution.
The sides of the unholy font were spaced out with many large stone sacrificial slabs. Currently, only two of them were occupied; some blood still trickled into the red waters from the headless corpses. Blood had to always be contributed to the hungering fountain, lest the solution grow too water and dilute, and Shaige's power begin to wane. The granite slabs were inclined so that gravity would slowly pull out most of the blood from the decapitated bodies, yet the slope was not so sharp as to make the corpses slide into the fountain. A pit was located in the back of the chamber. The corpses could simply be thrown into that deep recess, when it was time for their disposal.
Back by the spiral staircases, the third locked door led to a prison complex. Blood slaves could be stored there. It was vital that they be kept fresh and alive until needed; old blood was less potent. For now, the cells were empty. Hundreds of long-dead humans had simply been stacked in the hallway. At least the imps had found a use for the stripped corpses of the crusaders that recently came. Their blood was stale and impure and the fountain was hardly red, which was no doubt the reason that Shaige felt hardly any stronger than when his heart was a simple vial of imp blood. Still, the heart was enough to anchor the Keeper to this world, and empower him and any who knew how to tap into the dark energy found within the shrine above.
More than satisfied with the work of his followers, Shaige drifted upwards, through the ceiling. Back in the shrine room, he finally manifested himself before Soran and Fangir.
Though Shaige perhaps didn't even realize it himself, his presence had an intoxicating effect. Even in the form of a mere shadow, he exuded an aura of authority and inspiration. While this had no doubt contributed to the Mutig tribe coming under his absolute control, it also made them feel free. It made them eager and creative, and gave them an initiative that mere slaves didn't possess. Indeed, Shaige had left no orders or instructions. His followers had simply taken it upon themselves to build the shrine, and they had done so perfectly, as if they shared their master's mind.
The altar was neither pauper nor makeshift, as it was enameled with gemstones and covered in engravings. Still, it managed to retain a humble and simplistic look; the stone slab hadn't been smoothed, merely covered with cloth, and a small stone idol was all that crowned the chantry. The room itself had been transformed from a dank, dark cavity in the earth into a place of awe. Mosaic tiles of carmine, ebony, and ochre covered the perfectly leveled floor. Great, chiseled columns were spaced at regular intervals, supporting a high ceiling. Walls of perfectly hewn stone bricks lined the walls about halfway up, before giving way to the natural cavern walls which had been smoothed and engraved. Many of the engravings on the wall and shrines were of significance, either magical symbols or scripture in the demonic language. The humans had simply been compelled by their imaginations to carve such images, oblivious to and uncaring about their origins or meanings.
This chamber in the cavern had dripped incessantly and possessed several small waterfalls that cascaded down into dark recesses. The waterfalls were rerouted and turned into fountains. Near the shrine, two masive stone serpents protruded from the wall behind, the statues' mouths serving as fountains. The majority of the water poured down into the subterranean rivers and aquifers far below, but some was rerouted into a separate antechamber. Well hidden from the rest of the room beneath the arch of the giant serpents' necks, two spiral staircases descended below the shrine. At the bottom were three heavy-set, locked doors. This section of the temple was off limits to any save Shaige's attendants, which at the time consisted only of Soran and the other nine imps.
One door led to the quarters of the aforementioned attendants, so that they would always be on hand. Another door, far larger and ornate than the other two, led to a small sanctuary. The antechamber was almost entirely filled by a massive, red fountain that stood directly beneath the shrine above. This was a new dungeon heart for Shaige. A tiny yet constant stream of water trickled down from above, ever diluting the crimson fluid. Many equally tiny whirlpools revealed that there were drains inside the fountain, emptying out its contents into the river below. The moving waters stirred the fountain and made it bubble, and a strange, magical mist wafted up from the simmering and foreboding solution.
The sides of the unholy font were spaced out with many large stone sacrificial slabs. Currently, only two of them were occupied; some blood still trickled into the red waters from the headless corpses. Blood had to always be contributed to the hungering fountain, lest the solution grow too water and dilute, and Shaige's power begin to wane. The granite slabs were inclined so that gravity would slowly pull out most of the blood from the decapitated bodies, yet the slope was not so sharp as to make the corpses slide into the fountain. A pit was located in the back of the chamber. The corpses could simply be thrown into that deep recess, when it was time for their disposal.
Back by the spiral staircases, the third locked door led to a prison complex. Blood slaves could be stored there. It was vital that they be kept fresh and alive until needed; old blood was less potent. For now, the cells were empty. Hundreds of long-dead humans had simply been stacked in the hallway. At least the imps had found a use for the stripped corpses of the crusaders that recently came. Their blood was stale and impure and the fountain was hardly red, which was no doubt the reason that Shaige felt hardly any stronger than when his heart was a simple vial of imp blood. Still, the heart was enough to anchor the Keeper to this world, and empower him and any who knew how to tap into the dark energy found within the shrine above.
More than satisfied with the work of his followers, Shaige drifted upwards, through the ceiling. Back in the shrine room, he finally manifested himself before Soran and Fangir.
The answer is yes. The Keepers of each of Outremar's Five Ages were mostly the children of the last Age's Keepers.
The other thing is that Keepers have immortal souls. They could simply be reincarnated, like Shaige.
The other thing is that Keepers have immortal souls. They could simply be reincarnated, like Shaige.
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