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.
When Rurik had his outburst, the Bey's face was utterly placid. His eyes lazily glanced towards this stranger, and his face betrayed hardly emotion save that of mild amusement. He made this man (evidently the king's uncle; he had heard about this man!) look like a petulant child having a tantrum before his parent. Of course, this was exactly what the Bey had intended to do and he had come prepared for such a reaction. The servants, however, looked on in something between shock and horror. They knew the implications of insulting the Khan or one of its Beys, and from the look of their eyes it would appear that they half expected something terrible to happen. Then they looked to their master, and in a moment their faces became calm as was is. It would seem that here, their master was a very different person indeed.
When Elendin responded with tact it showed him more wise and respectful than Chugo had expected, and in all truth he was somewhat taken aback. Still, the boy hadn't even acknowledged the gift left at his feet. Normally Chugo might have taken that as a direct and calculated insult, though perhaps this young emperor was simply overwhelmed. "As you wish, so it shall be," he answered the emperor's command. Turning to one of his servants, he relayed the order, "See to it that this is done." that servant gave a short bow directed somewhere between the Bey and the emperor, then hurried out of the throne room.
He bowed his head slightly in respect, then silently contemplated upon how this uncle was so weak as to not even control his nephew of some eleven odd years. Perhaps the uncle would not prove to be so much as an obstacle to the Khanate's goals as one might have initially thought. His thoughts then turned back to his men, the utter fools that had evidently camped in the middle of the streets for lack of other orders. He began to weigh the benefits of having them nearby in the first place; they had been a necessary escort and it would be useful to have a hundred good men at his disposal, yet at the same time, keeping a small army outside the city would be sure to be received poorly by some...
Such thoughts were rather brusquely brought to a still when some fool of a knight drew his sword at Chugo and confronted him with even more vitriol than Rurik had. Here, the Bey was genuinely surprised; to threaten an emissary was something that his own Khan would never dare stoop so low as to do. 'And they think us savages!' he thought.
Try as he might, this time his face was not so stoic and a tinge of broiling ire crept into his eyes and became evident in his tightened jaw. Perhaps he had drank too much wine on his journey, though Chugo still retained that restraint uncharacteristic of most Khargats. Calmly, he glanced towards the knight. He thought of the dagger hidden within the folds of his robes, though he was conscious enough to not hover his hand over it. The element of surprise was all that he would have were Bastienne to attack him right then and there. Chugo had received martial training of his own as a Bey in the Khanate's armies, though of course he was an officer and not some common warrior. He knew that this knight would have the obvious advantage with his armor, experience, and sword if it came down to it.
He had been allowed the times to think these quick thoughts while some other dignitary, a woman no less, made her appearance. She looked down upon him with the same scorn that the others did, an he returned a cold stare for one brief moment. Then the Dieuporteillan knight spoke again, and Chugo found the attention once more upon himself. A rush of adrenaline came upon him; it was here and now that he realized the gravity of this situation. Everything depended upon what he did now, everything from the Khanate's future to perhaps even his life.
Fortunately, Chugo had always had a quick mind and a sharp charisma. Hardly a moment after Bastienne had finished, Chugo addressed the emperor once more with calculated words, "Having seen this man's display," he began, gesturing towards de Warenne, "...I think it evident to your majesty why I was given such a large escort. Brigands haunt the countryside, and you have seen how many of your subjects will offer us no hospitality or even stoop so low as to threaten an emissary. Nonetheless, no insult was intended and those under my command will be disciplined for any ill acts."
With that hopefully deflected, it was time to outmaneuver this fool and retaliate in like. "And as in for his allegations," he started in a louder and more authoritative tone that demanded the attention of all nearby, gesturing once again to de Warenne as he spoke, "...I feel it my place to remind you that the Khargat hosts in all their strength have supported your father in all of his wars as they will continue to support Your Majesty, and that many a conquest was won by the blood of my people. Similarly, our herders bring the meat that feeds Your Majesty's towns and our merchants bring commerce and exotic goods to the empire. What can he offer you? A few knights, perhaps a mob or two of levied peasants? Our horsemen are second to none as history attests, and our warriors more numerous than his."
"The Khan has seen fit to send You Majesty gifts and his regards," Chugo went on, reminded Elendin about the bow and horse that he had been offered, "Whereas this knight has brought you nothing but his dogmatic belligerence. He accuses me of grasping for power here, yet what else is he doing by pointing that blade at my face and trying to sow discord between your court and between my Khan and yourself? Your Majesty, I think you wise. I think that you will see the wisdom in bringing about a new era of cooperation and friendship between the Crown and the Khanate; let none seek to blind you to the truth or sully my earnest words with lies."
And now Chugo was confident that he had won this exchange and outmaneuvered the knight in this 'debate' if it could even be considered such, though he was still ever wary of growing too too arrogant in his victory. He knew not what this emperor's temperament was like or how the knight would react. Still, he glanced back to the Dieuporteillan for the briefest of moments and a tingle of mocking triumph showed in his eye. Yet for the rest to see, he remained ever calm. He would let his adversaries look like the angry and uncontrollable fools that they were; he knew that any aggression on his part would only reinforce what Elendin would have surely heard about the Khargats and their supposed savagery. It would be best to prove him wrong and make him question what he knew of the Khanate.
Like all the rest were no doubt doing, Chugo Bey looked expectantly at the emperor, though in his face he tried to show some empathy. It was slowly becoming clear that this boy was being ripped apart by the pressure of this court; Chugo immediately realized that if he could offer the young emperor any calm or reprieve from that pressure, he would be like a father of sorts. Chugo, ever opportunistic, would be sure to try and exploit that trust if ever he could achieve such a status.
I laugh every time I read 'Little Basileus'. Little. I don't know why it's so funny to me; maybe just the splendor of the Greek title for Roman Emperors juxtaposed with an ordinary word like 'little' is enough to make me laugh.
Well I'd ideally have more to respond to than girl giving Chugo a dirty look and emperor telling the Khargats to GTFO, but I guess I'll start making a post regardless.
@Kho I shall poster later in the day, for I have no inspiration now.
Just want to congratulate you all, the IC has been alive and kicking (for the most part ^^') for more or less six months. That's two and a half months longer than Mk.I
*realizes that he's done maybe 1/5 of the things he originally figured he'd do*
@frapet Call him whatever you want! No heads are gonna roll. Haha @Vec That is indeed a real bummer mate. Well, we can always say that Layna was too busy to help the MOST IMPORTANT person in the entire Empire. No biggie. ^^
EDIT: Tomorrow I shall also write a response to Cyclones post. Can't have these Khargats barging in without a riposte, can we now!?
I was going to reveal it in my next post, but all of Chugo's men have set up their yurts in the middle of the streets and are just generally being nuisances in the taverns and brothels.
Maybe you should mention this in your upcoming post when they try to figure out what to do ;p
@Cyclone It'd probably not be my objective to fuck with Chugo directly, since I don't really mind him. I just feel like it'd be fun to play as a part of the Horde, and to basically be a savage vagabond.
Ah, I see now. You want a bad guy, but would rather have him be Conan the Barbarian instead of some black knight from Dieuporteille that doesn't buy into all this piety and honor stuff. All the people of Dieuporteille are good and lawful citizens!
@Cyclone Would you be opposed to, one day when the plot progresses, allowing me to play a minor Khargit man with his own minor tribe, who might take the chance to ... raise himself up in the world of the Khan, and possibly interfere with your characters businesses?
We can cross that bridge when we get to it (once the plot progresses, as you said) but it sounds like a cool idea. I see no reason to stop you from doing that.
If I haven't alluded to it already, the Khargats are rather fractious. Some want war to grow wealthy from pillaging and taking slaves and to get further glory, some want peace to further their agenda with trade agreements, some clans hate others clans and so on. Point being that there's lots of opportunity for you to be a Khargat set on undermining Chugo's efforts, and that if Chugo gets killed off as this RP goes down the Khanate has no other good candidate for emissary that most parties would agree on. It'd be pretty bad.
Down the muddied cobble road there came a large and altogether unexpected company: a host of some hundred Khargats bound straight for the gates of Riadan. The rain had only just ceased and so the wagon was still struggling somewhat even upon this paved rode. All around, the thud of horses' hooves upon the road was muddled by the splash of puddles and squishing of mud. Rain ruined a good bow, the soggy ground made horses falter and stumble, and damp had a way of creeping into the nomads' lungs like some sort of festering rot. Already, more than a few longed for the drylands.
At the front of the procession there marched heavy cavalry, some of the Khanate's finest warriors had been sent as the Bey's bodyguard. In the middle there was a train of wagons carrying Chugo Bey himself and those possessions that he had chosen to bring with him. Flanking the wagons were some lighter horsemen, and trailing behind were more heavy cavalry. While unmistakably Khargat, this company resembled more of a warband than a merchant caravan, and when they at last arrived at the capital's gate they were treated as such.
As they drew near, the gates remained closed and the watchmen atop the walls seemed to stare dumbly down at the incomers. Many of the warriors below could not help but idly glance up to examine the ramparts and fortifications. Seasoned as they were, they could all appreciate the monumental difficulty that laying siege to such a city would bring, yet the eyes of conquerors saw no impossibility. Armor could only protect against the imprecise; walls could only stave off the undetermined. As it would happen, Chugo Bey was quite determined to get into this city and claim his place at the boy king's court regardless of whether the king had invited him or these fools atop the walls wanted to bar his entry.
==--``~~~~``--==
The head of his procession now brought their horses to heel just before the closed gates, faced by two guardsmen on foot that out looked upon the Khargats rather smugly and bravely seeing as their was an iron portcullis to separate them.
"What do you mongrels want?" one of the guards asked. That man was armored in the uniform of the city guard, though he was on foot and half the size of the lancers just beyond that portcullis. Each of those lancers were armored from head to toe and even their horses were not left unprotected; were it not for their beards and the unorthodox style of their armor, they might have looked like Dieuporteillan knights. The Khanate was not rich and the vast part of its armies were not so well equipped, so there was no mistaking that these lancers were the Khan's fiercest and that they had proven themselves in a hundred battles. Still, where most would quaver this man continued to find confidence in his uniform, his fellow guards, and perhaps that iron portcullis!
"You know what we want," one rider growled in a thick accent.
"By the Khan's orders (forever may he ride!), we escort Chugo Bey to your king's court. Open the gate," another tried, ever so slightly more diplomatic.
The guards inside scoffed at the first and then laughed at the second, and one answered back, "We received no notice of the impending arrival of some Khargat fool come to lick the king's boots, so it would seem that you come uninvited! Turn back and ride for your wretched hills; best hurry, by the Paragons the rain may come back!"
There was utter silence outside the walls, not so much as the whinny or snort of a horse. The lancers met the guards inside with a deathly stare that could bore holes through most men, and while one guard averted his gaze the louder one met the challenge.
"Do you know what happens to brigands that dare attack the capital? Hah, I wonder if you would shed tears and wail like a widow when they-"
"We'd rather shed blood thantears. Open the gate," one of the lancers said, the lot of them rapidly growing irate in the face of provocation. One of them made a point of drawing a small knife where the ones inside would see it.
"Hah, if you savages think that tiny blade could so much as poke us..."
The one that brandished the knife stared on emotionless, clueless as to what insult was being hurled forth until one of his fellows translated. At that point, he burst out laughing. The city guard was now the angered one, his face flushing red!
"He laughs because that is a scalping knife," one of the Khargats explained, and in an instant the color drained from that guard's face and he became pallid.
==--``~~~~``--==
In one great gulp, the Bey finished the contents of some bottle of fine vintage. He pulled open the curtain to his wagon and hurled the empty bottle out to the side of the road, then climbed out and strode forward to see what the meaning of the accursed holdup was. His men were there, quarreling with and threatening the gatekeepers. Of course.
From within a fold of his robes Chugo procured a small pouch of silver. "The gate toll," he shouted as he threw the purse to the men in the gatehouse above. The portcullis was promptly lifted while the hapless two right inside could only mutter underneath their breaths as they were suddenly forced aside as the entire trail marched through. Later that week, the loudmouthed guard would be slashed in two by a saber and thrown into the gutter as he left his post. The culprit would never be found, for the man's enemies had been many, and there had been no witnesses and few that even cared to investigate his disappearance.
An especially large crowd gathered along the road to look at these strange, Pagan barbarians that hailed from the hills in the shadow of the northern mountains. Now that the rain had abated for the time being, the people were all free to gawk at the warriors and wagons with an odd combination of awe, terror, disgust, and utter contempt. Passing by the statues of the Paragons and the unfinished statue of the departed Emperor, Chugo gave them a sideways glance before he returned to his new, freshly opened bottle of wine. From the privacy of within the wagon he was exempt from the judgemental stare of the onlookers, but his men trotted right past the statues in plain view without so much as a single sign of reverence. Their way was to simply burn the dead and then leave their ashes to scatter upon the wind. Statues were only meant to be pulled down in triumph by conquerors.
Finding his way into the palace in a similar manner to how he had managed to enter the city walls, Chugo ascended an obnoxious long set of stairs and walked down winding passages before he eventually found his way to the throne room. At his heels were two slaves; he came expecting to be granted the right to remain in the palace, though he preferred to bring his own servants. Upon seeing young Elendin, the Bey's scowl transformed to a smile. He approached and made a sweeping and deep bow, but like Laxion he did not fall upon his knees. In this case, it was more out of concern that he might dirty his clothes than any religious objections.
"Hail to your grace, Emperor! Long may you reign. I am Chugo, Bey of the Khanate. I have come upon the Khan's behest to join your court as an advisor to you and representative of my people," the Bey began, talking with smooth and honeyed words that betrayed nothing but kindness. His voice carried only the faintest accent; he'd engaged in enough dealings with the 'cultured' people of Emperiat to speak this tongue well.
His smile widened somewhat and he snapped. One of his 'servants' behind stepped forward bearing an ornate box. "I present a gift to you, Your Majesty! It is a fine warbow of our unique style, crafted by the same hands that make the Khan's own bow. Along with this I have brought you a fine horse fit for any king; a mighty charger he is, and already I have seen him brought into the care of your stablehands. My men can train you in the usage of these things if it please Your Majesty, and perhaps one day you will find joy in using them on a hunt! Nothing would honor us more."
Murmur Bringer of Thunder, Herald of the Storm, Djinni Lord of Sound
&
Vizier Ventus, Majordomo to Zephyrion Level 7 Hero 51 Khookies
Basheer is initiated into the Jvan-hunting squad
How do you know 'tis Basheer? Listen up and you shall hear!
Basheer looked down upon the debased and degraded creature. It had been corrupted and brought most low by the will of the Jvanic Flesh. Perhaps in a past life it had been one of those little white creatures which scurried about upon the earth, but it was now unrecognisable for that beautiful and noble creature. Indeed, it had by the will of the Jvanic Flesh turned its back upon what it was. Its once fine, white shell had been mutilated beyond recognition. It had been cracked before being marred with the blackness of the Jvanic Inkfly.
Basheer surveyed the rest of the camp and the many other hain who had similarly disfigured themselves. Only one or too smaller ones yet maintained the purity of their natural form. 'You are accursed beings, with your own hands you defile what Nature has created pure. The fear and detestation for Jvan which Nature endowed you with, you attempt to cure,' the defiled and degraded hain, and the two uncorrupted ones, were lifted up till they were all at the level of Basheer's head, 'of your great misguidance you will be cleansed, and you will be made as examples for those who come after you,' and with that, he took off into the sky and made his way to the nearby settlement.
He had observed this party leave the settlement some weeks ago and had watched over them until the chosen hain finally emerged from its tent, having defiled the purity of its shell. Again and again he came across these creatures doing similar things to their shells, and again and again he reprimanded and made examples of them.
He settled down in the middle of the settlement, tear it apart with the fury of his winds, detecting the scurrying creatures and pulling them into the centre. Once they were all gathered, he separated the corrupted ones from the pure ones and began the cleansing. 'Look you here, all of you, and learn, and remember. For their sins against Nature and for their allignment with the evil Jvanic Flesh, I pass judgment on these here. Let them be as examples to you all. Let no passing fancy ever again lead you to mutilate what Nature has created pure and whole,' and with that, the winds found their way into the cracks of the corrupted hain, and in each of them a savage whirlwind tore apart the flesh and sprayed the air and earth with blood. And those below looked up in terror, and the blood of their parents, grandparents, sisters and brothers rained upon them, and their empty, mutilated shells fell upon the earth. And there they remained, as an example to all who would come after them.
With that, Basheer lifted himself up and drifted upon the wind. Ever since his liberation, his fame had grown and many now recognised the strange, flute-like sound that preceded him wherever and whenever he went. His entire being had been altered by the eons of imprisonment, and part of the musical instrument (if such foul sound could be called music) he had once been trapped in remained with him. As he drifted on the wind, the sound of his movement was overwhelmed, very suddenly, by the sound of thunder. He looked up into the sky, but saw no signs of a coming storm. But the God of Thunder was bearing down upon him.
He had heard much recently of how the great Murmur was hunting down the fiends of the Jvanic Flesh without shewing mercy. It had caused Basheer a great amount of comfort to know that so mighty a being had a similar mission and goal as he, and he had desperately sought to meet the mighty being. But at that moment, Murmur did not seem to be approaching him in any friendly manner. Perhaps...perhaps he had mistaken him for a corrupted being? Others had done so before. It was the source of much misery to him. That he, Basheer, perhaps the djinni with the greatest loathing for all things Jvanic, should himself be mistaken for one of them. It was the Jvanic Flesh's way to spite him even as he hunted down and destroyed all she created and all she cursed with her blessing.
The mighty Djinni Lord's presence was then upon noble Basheer; it permeated the air itself like a smothering blanket, though of visual signs of Murmur there were none save the wild oscillation of the air itself. Basheer would find himself at once enveloped within the living explosion that was sound manifest as god!
There called out a voice, harsh and booming but melodic all the same, "What exemplar of bastardry rests before me here?
The sweet wind at your back is tainted by Jvan's smell, yet your form does not repel. Half pure, half corrupt;
you are not one of the twisted, vile traitors for it is plain that your form still resembles our Creator's and not some fiend of horror.
But, pray tell:
If a succulent fruit's skin shines like day and yet its odor betrays decay has it been consumed by rot?"
Basheer looked around himself as the near-ethereal being engulfed him and his voice prodded at his form from seemingly all directions. He considered the words of the Thunder God before making his reponse. 'It is said, oh Lord of the Thunderous Skies Whose coming heralds high heaven's sweet sighs That if one should stare long into the dark The darkness would leave upon him its mark,' he let out a long breath, which filled the air around him with a deep musical sound.
'It is not the noble crusader's fault That he should look into his soul's deep vault And find within that most profound pit, placed Some of the scum in which his foes are laced,' he released another melancholy note.
'And for one like me, for millenia trapped Blame not my Self for choosing to adapt 'Tis the price that I for surviving pay And so use life to hunt sin everyday.'
An equally musical voice was returned, "Ah, what cheer! I know you now as the noble Basheer, and many a good djinn has already seen fit to regale me of your tale. Blessed to me is one that perserveres and overcomes Jvan's horrors; sacrosanct is the one that then joins the Glorious Crusade with ardor and fights with zeal against our scourge! What aid have you lent to the righteous purge?"
At Murmur's immediate recognition and praise of him, Basheer felt himself fill with a joyful pride. That news of him should have reached the ears of even so great a being as the Thunder God was beyond what he could have ever expected. It was no joy to be known for his suffering alone, but to be known in the world of djinn was in itself a mighty feat, no matter the reason. And he was certain that in due time it would not be his suffering alone that turned the heads of his brethren. He would give them far more to turn their heads about!
''Tis my duty, after all I have seen To ensure our world is kept pure and clean, And that the word of Nature is supreme Above all that the Flesh does plot and scheme.
Its worshippers I punished severely And I hope they repented sincerely, For if they have not, then I shall return And their worlds and lives and works overturn!
Its foul messengers I tossed and broke Freeing thousands from its crushing flesh yoke, And when I found a corrupted brother No mercy took me, him did I smother!
And for fear that they should corrupt me too I did not utilise them that I slew, And so if you see me yet small and weak I chose the war, over power, to seek.
To my great despair, this now does mean: Those vile servants of Jvan, now strong and lean, Have grown stronger than I can hope to be; Less the battles fought than the ones I flee.
I have carried these thoughts, hoping to find A great spirit of a similar mind To me, with whom to find strength and safety. For Jvan remains, 'tis best not be hasty
Else one's life and one's war is ever lost And all we have fought and died for is tossed Upon the wind and into the ocean In one swift and foolish burst of motion!
And so though this my state does make me sad, To have found you finally I am glad! Oh mighty Lord of the Sound of the Storm Will you nurture me, and strengthen my form?'
The all-encompassing cacophony of sound that was Murmur then froze, seemingly in contemplation. The vibrant hum around Basheer faded, and for a long moment Murmur's sound was like feathers falling upon fresh snow.
Silence was finally banished and an answer return, "The wild tree, king of the forest nurtured by storm, tested by wind grows taller and stronger than that in an orchard tended to and trimmed. You ask for what cannot and should not be given, in earnest.
It is a trying heat that we endure in the crucible of war and you are wise indeed to reject their essence for through this fire alone you can be tempered and made quintessence. Entertain not temptation to drink of their Flickers, for into yours their corruption will pour."
Basheer immediately saw the truth in Murmur's words. While what he sought would indeed increase his strength and make him an even greater bane of Jvankind, it would not last. True strength was tested in the heat of battle, true might in the moment of crisis. It just meant that he would have to hunt his own as well as Jvanic beings. The sacrifice of his uncorrupted brethren would mean the betterment of the sword which struck down Nature's foes. It was what it was.
'I find that what you say is true Though in my eye tears do accrue To think that I should sacrifice Those souls who are unstained by vice And go about serving Nature As is their innate character But 'tis the pain we must endure To fight of Jvan and Nature cure,' he sighed a little sigh as he thought of the brethren who would not meet their ends at his hands. He knew not why, but ever since he had been liberated of the Jvanic Intrument, he had found in himself not desire to harm those of his kind. Only Jvanic beings incited his furies and brought about his vengeful punishment.
'And where to now do you venture? From where calls your next adventure?'
"My destination is absolute: rest shall never be mine 'til I smother Jvan itself, Cancer Made Flesh, the Great Other though shadows shroud my route."
For some time now, a storm had been looming above the horizon, though now the dark clouds brewed so close that they would not go unnoticed. Mortals would see nothing amiss, but to the discerning eyes of two djinn it was clear that this was no storm conjured intentionally and directed by the careful hand of a Stormlord. No, it was rather the result of a great conflux of wind elementals, such a high concentration of djinn creating a somewhat wild and uncontrolled storm as a side effect. In any case, one mighty Lord surged ahead of the dark clouds and the djinn behind him followed like any mortal host did its vanguard.
That Lord at the head was none other than the Vizier Ventus, and upon sensing the presence of the notorious Herald of Thunder (and another good djinni or noteworthy power, it would seem!) he adjusted his flight to intercept their position. Mere moments passed, and then he hovered in the air before the duo.
"Well be with the two of you! Esteemed Murmur, you are well met, though I have not the fortune to know this one in your company!"
For Basheer, this was most certainly a momentous day. Not only had the mighty Murmur crossed paths with him, but the vivacious Vizier Ventus had also come. What fortune! What luck! Nay, what calculated act of Nature herself!
'Lord, if you have not heard of me Then I am not shocked or aggrieved For what hath little I achieved That you may find me noteworthy
Enough to consider or know? I am but as a little sprite Before your glory and your might Which straight from the Divine doth flow.
If you do not know me then hear I shall tell you my humble name Maybe it has some little fame That you may know of poor Basheer,' and with his lengthy introduction done, Basheer bowed deeply to the powerful Vizier.
"Ah, your words flow with poise and culture, and were time at my side I should have liked to return such praise with melody of my own! But as is, time is fleeting and so I must (with the utomost of humility!) make the pleasure of your acquaintance and then speak at once of my purpose here.
By the will of the Divine Craftsman Teknall as well as our own God, Mighty Zephyrion, praised be His name, I amass a great force. The two of you have perhaps heard that the Master of Chaos, Vestec himself, has tampered with the essence of a few many of our brethren and corrupted them into something vile. They sweep across this world as a black wind, consuming and destroying all others in their path for no purpose save their revelry in chaos.
You will know that this is our way, though they have been corrupted beyond reason and must not be allowed to consume our good fellows. For this purpose, I have given my word to amass an even greater force and lead them to battle against our fallen brothers. From there, I would fulfill my promise to support Teknall's other efforts before either disbanding the host or leading it onwards, as honor's call would dictate.
So, what say ye to this proposal? May I count your might amongst my host?"
Basheer could not help but frown. While he respected the Vizier and wished to obey him, this seemed like a war which Nature had nothing to do with. Fair enough, the chaotic Vestec was wreaking...well, chaos, but that was completely natural. Jvan on the other hand was as unnatural as Vestec was natural. Why would they chase after the Chaotic One when the Jvanic Flesh was by far the greater danger? It did not make much sense to him. He wondered what Murmur would do. He knew that the great being was just as adamant on hunting down the Jvanic Flesh as he...
'Lord, I am but a little thing Who freely flies on Nature's wing She asks for nothing; I give all Ever grateful to Nature's soul
And Nature hath brought Murmur here And in him I find one most dear So whate'er he shall now decide He shall find me firm at his side.'
Ah, as in for Murmur, his decision was quick. Spawned upon his first day as a bastard element, he had learned quickly when one had no choice, and in the face of the Vizier this was one such occasion. Their lord Zephyrion, no less, had mandated the gathering of this force! Though Murmur was alike Basheer in that his personal Crusade took precedence in his mind over the doings of the Master of Chaos, he would aid in Ventus' efforts if only temporarily.
"Like the groan of rolling stone, thunder shall boom where above your storm doth loom. The songs of my great design will have an accent: that of your foes wailing and torment."
And so Murmur struck his pact, and through him so too did Basheer. Basheer bowed deeply in compliance with Murmur's verdict, and waited upon the Vizier's reaction to their pledge of obedience and allegiance.
"And so a pact is struck and it is done! But I see that the two of you are no mere sprites; your places are to inspire and lead, not fly in lockstep beside a thousand others. For this end, I bestow upon you a gift: a small portion of my power and that vested into me by Mighty Zephyrion. Use it well!"
A small wisp of golden air was exhaled from the Vizier's open mouth, and it sat suspended in the air for several moments as if confused. Then, it sensed the presence of Murmur and Basheer and drifted closer toward them. The power rested right before them, waiting to be claimed.
A great vibration rippled through the air as Murmur moved forward to encompass that golden eddy of wind. Seeing the paragon move to claim the gift from Nature, Basheer moved forward too, flowing through the mighty Thunderlord and placing a tentative hand upon the golden, sprite-like breath. Warmth slowly crept into the tips of his fingers and moved up his hand, and before long his entire body was aglow with the warmth. It was not a searing, unbearable heat. But it was not exactly a comfortable one, much as it lulled him into thinking so. There was something in it, something hovering just beyond his grasp and comprehension. Like a thought which hovered tantalisingly beyond one's grip - so close, yet infinitely distant. An as he reached harder, he felt the heat grow, and with it power. His eyes widened and he shrank way from the enticing thought-like heat, fear and awe intermingling in his mind.
'This...' he gulped, though it was a rather useless thing for a wind elemental to do, 'this is a blessing vast, my lord And though grateful for your reward I do have one humble request Which flutters urgent in my breast,
As your glory doth clearly see There is a subtle treachery Which poisons Nature's perfect form And bends it from our Master's norm
To overwhelm this fiendish foe We must to its nucleus go And gore the cancer at the core - We triumph, or are nevermore.'
"Doth the clay being moulded somehow look upon its shaper and ask: what maketh thou? Question not almighty Zephyrion's will instead content yourself in that we'll be as his hands and his scourge and that if he wills it, there will be a second purge."
Basheer looked outwardly crestfallen at hearing this. He had completely expected the Vizier to be supportive of Nature's cause - he would have thought that the Divine Master's approval would hardly need to be explicitly given. But he said no more on the matter and buried his feelings of rejection and disappointment deep within his breast - and indeed, his was a most expansive, patient, enduring breast. 'We listen...and we obey Each and every word you say.'
Basheer cleansed some Hain of their strange way of corrupting their pure shells with ink and scratches and cracks. He killed all the corrupted ones and warned the ones not yet corrupted to abstain from these horrific acts. He's been doing that all over the place, it would seem. Cleansing Nature from such impurities! Murmur descends upon him and they converse on many matters in rhyme, with the end result being that no, Murmur isn't going to make him strong by clicking his fingers. Ventus does though! He makes them both into heroes :) and they join his 'Army of We-Hate-Vestec-Because-We-Love-Teknall(and through him, JVAN) Basheer attempts to get Ventus to support the crusaide against Jvan, but he puts Basheer in his place and Basheer shuts up about killing things
-10 Khookies spent to form Ventus' lynch mob, the Holy Order to be herefore known as the Zephyrean Skywatch -10 Khookies spent to empower both Basheer and murmur; the two are now heroes.
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 [s]12 years ago[/s] 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.
[center]Word of my splendor:[/center]
[hider=My messenger's letter][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b0090-4706-75b9-bfe5-fd4ef6737466.webp[/img][/hider]
[hider=My fellow monarch's response][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b0090-a418-774f-a117-1ae23ac670fd.webp[/img][/hider]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">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 <span class="bb-s">12 years ago</span> 2010-ish!<br><br>I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.<br><br><div class="bb-center">Word of my splendor:</div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="My messenger's letter">My messenger's letter [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><img src="https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b0090-4706-75b9-bfe5-fd4ef6737466.webp" /></div></div><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="My fellow monarch's response">My fellow monarch's response [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><img src="https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b0090-a418-774f-a117-1ae23ac670fd.webp" /></div></div></div>
Member
Lord Zee
Vec
JFK
Fetzen
Thayr
BingTheWing
