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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.

Word of my splendor:


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Introduction


In the earliest days, there was nothing, not even the empty shell of a world. Then Chaos!

From the emptiness erupted fire and light, water, air, and earth. These primordial forces clashed with terrible power, and from their violence was born life. The beings that emerged were as terrible and primal as their time. Giants, monstrous beasts, and even some great figures that would be remembered in the tales of survivors and eventually regarded as gods or demons. This First Era was a time of great violence. The world was forged, but then the land was cleaved and reshaped a hundred times over as these beings clashed with one another alongside the ancient forces that had thrust them into existence.

In the end there was no victor. The primordial forces grew tamer with every passing millennium, until there came a time when the mightiest of breezes was nothing but the faintest whisper compared to the storms of old, the hottest flame no more than a candle before the sun of the first fires, and the world was not so savage. The children that Chaos had begotten did not grow any less wild, and they kept fighting endlessly; they slew one another and destroyed the very lands and fortresses they had ruled, leaving their surviving minions and degenerate offspring to scatter across the land and hide fearfully in the shadows. In the end the children of Chaos dwindled so much that they at last began to realize their time was over. Some of the remnants laid down in rest and began a long, or perhaps endless, slumber, whilst others departed the world altogether for more distant lands beyond our comprehension.

The signs of the First Era still remain for those that know with a discerning eye. In some places, the greatest fortresses and works of the past might still be visible above the ground as forlorn ruins. Within ancient caves there are not just crude paintings depicting an early era, but also there are the lost and long-buried remnants of the ancients, and perhaps even the occasional snore from primordial beings that still slumber. In the wildest and most untamed of wilderness, there may still roam great and extraordinary beasts.

Yet aeons have passed, and now new masters emerge to dominate the world. The Dawn of Civilization has come; everywhere it seems that the wilderness is being conquered as cities, villages, fortresses, and kingdoms are erected. This time they are populated by mortals, be they weakened offspring from the great and powerful children of Chaos, or perhaps descendants of whatever servants or playthings entertained such gods and demons of legend, or perhaps even just animals that have found their intelligence. Most of these mortal civilizations arise and are shaped not organically and of their own, but rather by the will and leadership of great sorcerers.

For in their rage, the ancients had left some of their weapons and relics scattered across ancient battlefields. Similarly consumed by lethargy, they later abandoned their treasures and the secrets of their magic upon the earth or inside their crumbling holds. There those secrets rested for untold years before they fell into the hands of new owners, those inquisitive mortals that harnessed the lost powers of the past to grow stronger and lord over their own kind as wizards. The age of Chaos and Its children has long passed. Now it is the Second Era--the Reign of Sorcerers!

Sorcerers


The names are mostly interchangeable--call them sorcerers, witches, wizards, magicians, magi, thaumaturges, artificers, or demigods; for our purposes here, they are all practically the same thing. This RP takes heavy inspiration from mythology and folklore of all different sorts, so magic can take many different forms and our wizards will likely have very different arrays of powers. These differing magical abilities probably won’t be on parity when it comes to power level, but that’s fine by me. Because magic is often situational, nebulous, and vague, I suspect that even if I wanted to it’d be impossible to define, much less, enforce, an equal level of potency in all of our characters without destroying diversity. So I will simply be very permissive about what magic can do in our setting, and hopefully with a small and generally good group we can have that much greater range of freedom without suffering for it. Magic can be acquired in numerous different ways; above, I implied that the most common means would probably be to discover some artifact or long-forgotten secret from the great and powerful precursor beings, and then gain magic from that. However, I am entirely open to other means. Perhaps there is something special about your wizard’s lineage that left latent power in his or her blood, until it was somehow activated. Perhaps your sorcerer’s magical powers were gained through the consumption of a magical being (perhaps even the flesh of another sorcerer?!), substance, or potion. Regardless, the means of acquiring magic shouldn’t be something that’s very easy.

That leads me to talk about some traits that I wish to be common for magic in this setting:
Potency. Magic is very powerful, and though it can come in various forms, sorcerers practically are demigods on a whole level of their own, far above the abilities of all but the greatest of mortals to challenge on even footing. Think of Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings or Sith Lords from Star Wars, for example.
Mystery. This will certainly be more of a soft magic system, without rigid overarching rules or much of an explanation for how magic functions or comes into existence. Besides being thematically appropriate that magic be strange and poorly understood, this works best in a collaborative story setting because it enables many forms of magic to exist without precluding or contradicting one another. This enables greater variety and freedom, and hopefully less plot holes, internal inconsistencies, and suspension of belief rather than more. Of course, some people prefer more hard magic systems, so if you really want to state that your sorcerer derives power from some force (like mana) or physical object and explain the constraints of that magic and its source, then perhaps something can be worked out.
Limitations. As magic can come in various flavors, as alluded above, one sorcerer shouldn’t necessarily be able to do what another one can, and as an exception to the general rule of mystery outlined above, I would like for you to at least have in mind what the general limitations of your specific character’s magical powers are. For instance, one might be able to mentally dominate and control malleable minds like those of animals or even dim-witted or emotionally vulnerable people, but not mentally powerful beings like fellow wizards or a determined and disciplined warrior that is wise to your tricks. Or one might be able to fly, but only for a certain length of time and not through storms, etc. As a general rule, things like time travel, use of alchemy to create gunpowder and bombs, and raising millions of undead are not going to be allowed because they are too extreme and not conducive to the sort of theme that we are going for. If you are in doubt as to whether something is permissible, just ask.
Rarity. This is the biggest one; magic users are meant to be very powerful, yet exceeding rare. Think once again of the Lord of the Rings, and how unlike in World of Warcraft or the Elder Scrolls where magic-users are everywhere, there’s just a handful of wizards like Gandalf scattered across the world. Perhaps an even better example is Thulsa Doom from Conan, who is the last of a near extinct race of men and practically the only magic-user.

Setting


As this is the Dawn of Civilization, there are some things to take into account so that we can all be on the same page and maintain consistency in the setting. Note that almost all of these things come with caveats and potential exceptions, consider all of the following a rough guideline rather than a hard rule or limit. If you think that in some way you might be going beyond some of these guidelines, maybe it’s worth discussing, but I’ll probably be fine with it.

The denizens of this world are all very humanoid, if not entirely human. Furthermore, the civilized people (with the obvious exception of the few individuals that have become sorcerers) are quite mundane and should not possess any blatantly magical or extraordinary abilities or traits; if their ancestors ever had such powers, they were lost in the ages past. Different groups of people will naturally have different races and look different, and in some cases they might even be wholly different species; perhaps Neanderthal analogs, or elves-lite (pointy ears and slender bodies, minus the immortality and being superior to humans in every way). Cyclopes or blemmyes (headless men) would exist on the very periphery of what is allowed; full beastmen, orcs, and the like are too extreme.

I envision that the civilizations of this world will be set mostly in the early Bronze Age (technology circa 2000 B.C.) and will be smaller, weaker, and more diverse than that of typical NRP settings. Allow me to elaborate upon each of those points:

Individuals matter more in such settings, especially given that our primary characters (the wizards that lord over these civilizations, be it indirectly or directly) have magic and are superhuman, comparable with story figures like Saruman, Thulsa Doom, Maui, etc. That is why I would like this to be a mostly character-driven and focussed story, with the narration more coming from the angle of what individuals (probably the wizards, or people close to them) are doing, rather than the point of view being like that of some omnipotent god as their perception encompasses what the entire state and all its apparatus are doing.

Early history was dominated by small agrarian villages for many thousands of years, before the urban revolution would eventually lead to the foundation of proper cities as we know them today. These cities were often independent and localized powers that only ruled enough hinterland to sustain their own population, and that limited their size; however, given our setting with wizards championing advancement, it makes sense that there would be much greater centralization. The development of proper kingdoms and empires rather than mere city-states and tribal groups is possible in our setting, so don’t feel that social organization is confined to what historically existed in the early Bronze Age. Feudalism or similar systems are fine. Still, cities should not exceed around 100,000 in population at the absolute most, and any city with more than 10,000 people would be large. Just keep that in mind--something like a vast empire with millions of people is a bit too much for our setting. Similarly, standing professional armies would be rather small (if they exist at all) due to the inefficiency of labor and the difficulty in producing a large enough surplus to support many people that don’t directly contribute to the sustainment of the population, and warfare would probably be conducted largely by normal citizens levied into armies for a season or two. The limited technology also limits the speed of transportation and spread of information, and therefore contributes to a difficulty in projecting power over vast areas.

This segues into my next point--since we have the first civilizations to emerge after a very long gap-period where nothing really went on, which was preceded by some vague time of creation and Chaos, there probably won’t need to be excessive backstory. NRPs often suffer from excessive premature worldbuilding while everybody sets up their sheets, with hardly any of those details becoming relevant to the IC, much less making it there. Some backstory between our wizards and civilizations is okay, and it certainly makes sense that the people of this world might have many legends and myths about the First Era (of dubious veracity, of course!) but for the most part I would discourage a heavy emphasis on the background and history of your civilization. Instead, I think it best to place the emphasis more on the wizard--how did they attain their power, and what have they already used it to do? What would they like to do in the future? From that frame and point of view you can still answer many questions about your civilization’s formation and roots whilst retaining the emphasis mainly on the characters.

OOC Goals and Thoughts


With the soft magic system such that it is and our rules and guidelines being kept loose, there will of course be a disparity in the power level between various characters. That isn’t inherently a problem, though it does mean there’s a lot of potential for abuse in the form of powergaming. It has to be emphasized that this is not a “game” to be “won” but rather a collaborative storytelling effort, so some maturity and restraint are necessary. Though Oraculum and I would rather leave everyone with a great deal of freedom, we will be forced to intervene if such powergaming becomes apparent.

The intention is to keep the planning phase for this RP rather short. Too many RPs on this site, especially NRPs that act similar to this one, stall in the pre-IC phase and don’t take off. For that reason, character sheets can (and are even encouraged to) be very brief and just contain the broad strokes. This is the Dawn of Civilization anyways, so there shouldn’t be some huge and ornate history to write out. Instead I would prefer a “show rather than tell” approach where your first IC post acts as a sort of introduction that tells one more about your character. You do not need to go so heavy on the exposition as to render the character sheet useless by virtue of restating everything in it but in even greater detail; ideally you’d just use the barebones established in the character sheet as a platform and quickly build off from there to establish detail, motivations, and so on.

So what ‘barebones’ should be in a character sheet?

Didn't want to make a double post, but I had to do it this way because the @mention wouldn't cause a notification if it was added in an edit.

@Ever Faithful

As Wyrm has dropped and you're on the top of the waiting list, you've got a chance to jump on in if still interested!
Sorry to see you go!
At Some Point™ I definitely want to wrap up the Ventus arc, and I think there's a good chance that at least post concerning that comes out within a week or two. I'm questioning the scale of things though because I'm afraid it might end up being more like 3 posts worth of content. I could probably do two or three posts back to back but triple posting to myself would be too much. I need you, Capy!
This looks interesting. Might there still be space for an applicant?


Unfortunately Chenzor and I have to restrict the number of participants, otherwise it just becomes too difficult to write out the turns.

We do keep a waiting though! @Chenzor can get you on there.


The Beginning of the End










Upon a throne there rested a withered husk, once mighty of body, but now with flesh yellowed, wrinkled, and sagging. His throne had become his sarcophagus, his palace a tomb and his house of eternity. The thunderous pounding of footsteps reverberated through the stale and dusty room, rousing the sleeper from his sepulchral reverie. But even now, the god did not seem alarmed. Never was he surprised, for he claimed to have already seen all things. So it was with something resembling expectancy in his eyes that he looked to the visitor and whispered through the tongue of the mind, ‘I foretold this day. Your efforts were admirable, A̴̢̡͠͠ḿ̡҉̵ṕ̡͝͠ḩ̵̀̕͟ì̶̶͞b̶̛̕̕҉ò̸̵̡͟l͏̕e̢̕s͏̶҉̵ , but your toil ultimately in vain.’

The visitor never stopped his advance, calmly walking past row after row of golden pillars down a great hallway leading to the dias and the throne atop it. Nothing remained of the once-magnificent rug beneath his feet save for a few fraying gilded threads.

‘Mortals are like the brazen wicks of so many candles; fickle, bound to fade away. On rare occasions one might be truly great and spread, and create a great inferno, but in the end there will be only ash all the same. They are flawed by nature, and can never grow to be greater than the sum of the might and labor that you put into the making of their wax, dousing of their wick, molding of their form...it, like all things, is bound to one day end, for not even gods have vigor enough to carry on for perpetuity.

‘And did I not warn you that when the toil became too great, as I see it now has, that you would release yourself of the burden and finally abandon your fruitless labor? I bid you look down now and witness for yourself: with the last of us departed, all heavenly and guiding voices have fallen silent; the fruits of the land rot, the soil turns barren, and the very air sickens in sullen stagnation. It is in this manner that old age befalls the world, as it already has done unto us. In this final age, darkness shall be preferred to light, and death thought more profitable than life; no one shall raise his eyes to heaven, the dead shall far outnumber the living, and finally there will remain nobody at all upon the mortal plane. Wind and weather shall persist, in a fashion and for a time, and aided by such forces ruin and disorder will claim the world. Only the remnants of temples and obelisks shall remain to tell of us and our acts, yet in due time even the stones are destined to become dust and then nothing remember. The world will return to Chaos, as if we had never existed, and none shall have been any better off for all the years that you had delayed what was inevitable.

‘That is why I counseled you to cease your rebellion; warring against Destiny is as foolish a task as one might expect to be conjured in the mind of a madman, and yet you did so and always insisted upon your sanity to the contrast of all your peers’ supposed madness. Do you accept now what I tried to teach you so long ago? By now even one so stubborn as you should have realized the truth of my words--the only purpose of life is to inward perfection, and to prepare yourself for death. Immortality is unattainable. Accept this wisdom and grow from it, and I suppose that your labors shall have then at least borne some small fruit, late as the harvest was.’


The visitor was mounting the steps to the dias, nearly upon the throned god now. He climbed, and stopped only when he loomed directly over the decrepit god. He narrowed his one eye, and asked, “And when the winds stop blowing, and we move and think no more, and the world slips back into its primordial state of Chaos, what is to come then?”

‘Perhaps there will be another tiny spark that spawns a great blaze, and for a time, there will be a new cosmos and a new world, and the wheel shall have turned once again until that fire burns out.’

Ả̶̢̬̻m̸̲͆̆p̷̰͕̠̔̚h̸̻̜̞͑̓͠ḯ̷̠̦̗̎b̷̯͓̐͐̾o̶̙͔̖̓̌l̶͍̉̎͜͠è̴̥̒ͅs̴͕̳̏̆͜ allowed the hint of a triumphant smile to etch its way onto his stoic face. “I think so, too. But you misinterpret my intentions, O Wise One; I would live through the long night to see this next dawn, for I have yet to abandon my greatest burden--that burning desire for eternity.”

A frown might have appeared on the decrepit one’s face if his muscles still had the vigor to move. Instead, he conveyed his frustration and displeasure through telepathy. ‘Do you not listen? You remain blind, even now, to the impossibility and futility of your raging against fate? There is no way to sustain yourself long enough to see that day, no guarantee that it will even com-’

And with that the final brick crumbled, and everything collapsed with a sudden violence.

“I will MAKE a way! A new world will arise, for I shall be the Architect of its making, even if I must labor until the ages of ages and expend every last ounce of my strength...and of yours.”

He raised a massive fist and struck down the God of Gods with a single mighty blow to the head. From the corpse of his oldest friend he drained every last ounce of power and might, all that could sustain him, until withered flesh became as paper and then as dust, and bones no more than sand. And then he collapsed, somehow wearier for it. In the days to come, he would do the same to each and every one of his fellows, and to what remained of the dying world’s mortal life. That grim task brought to a close, he found himself truly alone, sitting upon his former master’s stone throne.

He felt weak even after all of that. But his willpower was stronger than it had ever been; it was stronger than the foundations of the earth, than words could describe, than the imagination could even grasp.

The true work hadn’t even begun.



The Architect wallowed in a fevered state, even if he masked it with smoke and projections of majesty and power. The great, bulbous, all-devouring eye about the center of his head was of course an illusion, for no eye could truly see all things and stare directly at a dozen gods at once. First it had been his skin; he had taken on a mummified look. His stone throne and palace, those that had been his former master’s, had been the only tangible relics of the past that he had brought to this new world before its foundation. He had done so out of practical reasons, in truth. The palace, buried deep within a moon, had been a suitable vessel for traversing the void of space, and time and energy had of course been of the essence. He hardly could have afforded to fashion his own vessel even if doing so might have freed him from carrying the burdens of the past.

And what burdens they had been! It was to his horror that his flesh had started to take on the dessicated and mummified look of his dead master; for a long time he had refused to so much as look upon the stone throne for fear that he would grow like the one who had sat on it previously. So he always toiled, confident that labor would spare him the fate of growing so decrepit, but instead the endless burdens of erecting the Seals around his chosen place and carving out an entire universe from nothingness had left him even more broken. Muscles tore, and his body and strength had begun failing.

Dismayed but not dissuaded, he had compensated for the sickly constitution by relying more and more upon the power of his mind and magical might. The atrophy continued, and eventually even the ligaments and tendons below fell off or else rotted away.

Now his bones were ancient, yellowed, and cracked; exposed to the world save for a thin layer of slime and the vaporous illusions that he wove around himself and wore like clothes. The slightest movement required a telekinetic heave, and that was the true reason why he had collapsed upon his throne and not moved since he’d sown the seeds for this world.

Fortunately, none of the seeds that were to become caretakers seemed to have perceived his weakness. He thought back to the one with a head of fire; her challenging of his might had been terrifying, for he knew all too well that even the greatest of gods could be slain, but it seemed that through stifling her first acts of rebellion, any thoughts of rebellion that the others harbored had been slain in their infancy.

So he had waited in a half-delirious state while they had set themselves upon the field he’d built. They furrowed it and helped the other seeds to grow for generation upon generation and his plan had come to fruition. It was slow but sure by the notions of mortals and gods, but to his warped sense of reality, it had been hardly an instant before he could sense that the time grew near.

Roused by the scent, he shook himself out of the trance that he’d lapsed into. Fully lucid once more, the Architect ordered his palace to move, and so it began to journey its way through the Celestial Spheres and descend ever closer and closer to Galbar.
I would really like to draw Vizier Ventus' arc to a conclusion though, and I think I have a good idea.

A surprise post or two might come from me in a little while, too.
The timing unfortunately isn't very good as we're looking to start wrapping up the IC (and I doubt you'd want to join just to partake in the ending), but I'll happily link you to the Discord! Check your PMs.
can they be wizards on the bridge
Ashes


Collaboratively written by BBeast and Cyclone


A shape flew through the sky with a silhouette of a pterodactyl yet far larger than even the beasts of Kirron’s Hooflands. A mild heat wave followed in its wake. Eyes which burned like embers scanned the razed ground below.

A spot of midnight blue stood out among the grey and brown. Swiftly the shape descended and the Phoenix landed beside the heap of blood-soaked blue feathers. “No, no, sweet Thunderbird, no. Why?” The Phoenix lowered his beak to the Thunderbird’s. Scalding tears welled up in his eyes and sizzled as they fell on the ground below. “I should have been there. I- I-” The Phoenix sobbed, his deep guttural cries echoing across the land.

The Thunderbird shuddered as if waking again, but it was just the mocking twitch of dead muscles. The ground was strewn with the dead and dying, and almost in unison the corpses seized. Those slowly succumbing to their wounds laid still save for ragged breathing or gurgling, in many ways looking more lifeless than even the dead about them.

A hazy grey figure emerged from over the horizon, flying and fast approaching the scene. It didn’t circle around like a vulture, for its senses were keen and it easily found the carnage that had attracted its attention. The ghostly figure landed besides the oldest carrion, the shredded and mangled remnants of the first beast that the Thunderbird had slain. And then it set to work. In its grasp was a long pale rod, and the merest tap of that staff upon the ground brought a reek of decay so potent that it could have been smelled from leagues away. The Phoenix, however, was much closer than that.

The Phoenix’s nostrils flared at the stench and he raised his head. His eyes locked onto the ghostly figure. He rose to his full height, towering far above the newcomer, and puffed out his chest. “Who are you?”

Zotz cast little more than a glance at the monstrous bird. “The one who is left to remedy the filth left behind by the living who are destined to slaughter one another.” His gaze returned down to the yellowing grass that withered beneath his feet and the now almost indistinguishable mounds of rancid flesh. He stepped carelessly over the bodies, raising his magical staff before the carnage and willing it all to become dirt once more. He did not know who or what the Phoenix was, but nor did he care enough to ask.

The Phoenix watched the circle of decomposing matter spread out from around Zotz. He looked around at the battlefield through eyes still clouded with tears and properly inspected it. A short distance away lay the body of Azadine, the burns of lightning clear. Around lay the dead bodies of both Azadine’s spawn and giant red crabs, slain in battle against each other. Any survivors had probably scattered and fled by now.

He looked back down at the body of the Thunderbird. Fresh tears welled in the Phoenix’s eyes as he bowed his head down to the bird. “My sweet, I shall not leave you to scavengers or decay. You deserve a proper funeral,” he said softly.

The Phoenix exhaled a breath of cinders and the body of the Thunderbird caught alight. The Phoenix stepped back and watched. As the fire took hold the feathers burst into dazzling flares of brilliant white light. As the Thunderbird was engulfed in an inferno some of the midnight blue feathers came free and billowed up with the smoke into the sky. Soon the feathers were gone and the light faded to just the flames, supernaturally hot though they were. The Phoenix released a mournful cry which carried far and wide as his beloved Thunderbird became ash.

The blaze caught the ghostly one’s attention. Zotz turned from his work and watched attentively. “Less work for me,” he concluded. When the Phoenix finished its infernal wailing, Zotz unraveled his humanoid form into a gust of billowing smoke and approached at a frightening speed, then insensitively loomed over the Thunderbird’s remnants and inspected the ashes. ”Purified!” he noted with some surprise.

“You have garnered my interest with that display. Might you burn the rest? You would make for a good assistant, better than my wretched fool of a brother--”

And then almost on queue, the ghostly silhouette of a giant monkey manifested at the edge of the battlegrounds, mouth cackling and a strange whip cracking. The corpses of the dead kicked, rolled, twitched, or seized with every snap of the whip, and even after all the years Ku couldn’t find anything more hilarious than their spasms.

The Phoenix regarded Zotz critically. “The Avatar of a God reduced to a servant of a lesser being? I think not.” His gaze cast over to Ku. “Who are you?” the Phoenix asked both of them.

“Servants of the god Katharsos,” Zotz explained, unconcerned with the Phoenix’s slight. “I am meant to decay corpses when great quantities of them are made, before their poison spreads and their carrion feeds scavengers and worse. And my brother is supposed to mark the dead that I do not disturb those that yet live; however, to him our sacred charge is nothing more than a game.”

“I do what the god told me to do,” the eavesdropping monkey called out. He never ceased flailing his whip, cracking it between every other word and grinning as he made some mangled corpses twitch and spasm so violently that they appeared to rise once again and dance in some crude fashion. “But I find my own entertainment too, because if I took my job as seriously as Zotz takes his then I’d have gone mad long ago. Ha! Maybe I already have!”

The Phoenix watched Ku’s peculiar display. Some of the brothers’ words echoed around inside his mind. “I should probably return to Muspelheim. I have been away too long already,” he said.

“Why hurry? Loosen up, take your time, stay and watch the show. Hey, see if you can light these things on fire!” Between giggles, Ku used his whip to goad the throng of ‘dancing’ corpses towards the Phoenix at a clumsy gait.

A slight smile might have crept onto the Phoenix’s face if he had lips. “Burning things is in line with Sartr’s will.” The Phoenix took a deep breath in, then exhaled an incandescent beam of heat which vaporised the moving corpses. In the thick of it all, unperturbed by mundane flames, the ghostly monkey laughed and danced. His whip flew back and forth at a blurring speed, and Ku sent hordes more of the dead forward whilst guiding their every motion like a crazed composer. Some tried to use others as shields, some tried to stealthily approach the Phoenix from behind, and still others just bounded forward like rabid beasts. Yet all fell to the flames as the Phoenix swept the beam around.

When some of the corpses from behind reached the Phoenix, having escaped his notice, they burst into flame as soon as they reached for the Avatar of Heat. As he felt their claws and teeth clatter uselessly against his hide the Phoenix paused his fire breath. He swept a wing which caught the small horde and hurled them away, leaving a flaming heap.

The surge of animated dead suddenly came to a stop, though many lumps of flesh still remained on the periphery of the battlefield where the Phoenix hadn’t bathed the ground in sweltering flame. “Pah, the rest still cling to life, and Zotz would be fuming if I tried to move them around. But good show! Working with you is fun. Say, care to do this again next time the fleshbags leave behind a big mess?”

“I had already extended him the offer. It remains from my end, still,” the forgettable Zotz whispered. The bat-shaped ghost had watched with far less glee than Ku, but he’d seemed pleased enough all the same.

“Great! So we’d only have to run it by Balam! When are you, uh...available?” Ku asked the Phoenix.

The Phoenix looked around the scorched earth around him with some satisfaction. It had been a long time since he had properly incinerated anything. “I would be open to collaboration. Although I am only available when my master does not need me elsewhere.”

The monkey’s neverending smile widened a bit at that. “What is it that you’re supposed to do, anyways?”

The Phoenix hesitated for a few moments as he tried to remember his purpose. “I burn what Master Sartr tells me to, watch the world for him, and do anything else he requires of me,” he answered.

“Huh. To have such freedom! What’s ‘watching the world’ supposed to mean anyways? You could probably bend that one to do whatever you want! Well if you stick around us, you’ll get to have lots of fun and laugh at Zotz’ expense, and maybe we’ll put in a good word to the god of death for you, eh? We’ll be able to find you next time there’s something worth doing. You’ve got a particular scent to you, and we’re sharp enough to smell a bloated corpse halfway across the world!”

Zotz, lacking words, silently backed away and began to attend to the remaining monsters one by one as they drew their last breaths. Ku’s absentminded fidgeting of his whip and the dead’s resulting motion made it easy enough to spot them once they’d expired, and then a quick tap of Zotz’s staff left them rotted within seconds.

The Phoenix looked guiltily away. “Sartr will be asking where I’ve been…” he mumbled to himself. He shook his head and looked to Ku. “If we cross paths again then I would be happy to burn things with you. I cannot guarantee when that will be, though.”

Ku shrugged. “We have all the time in the world. It’s been fun, fiery bird! See you next time!” Then the monkey fled and left his brother to finish their macabre work.

“Yes, next time.” The Phoenix then stretched out his wings and with a wingbeat which stirred up dust across the battlefield took to the skies and left.

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