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2 yrs ago
Finally stabilized enough to return, though I had to make a new account. Ah well. When life gives you lemons?


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Kaldun and Sekhmetara

As Sekhmetara made her way towards Kaldun’s quarters, she was passed by frightened human retainers, all hurrying or flat out running away from her brother's room. They all gave her a hurried, deferential bow, as they passed by but they did not stop. Something had spooked them greatly. It took little time to get to Kaldun’s room and in no time she was approaching his door. Two of his sons stood outside, force spears at their side.

Upon seeing her approach, they banged the spears down on the ground. One of them announced her as she drew close. “Lady Sekhmetara of our sister legion The Tears of Dawn is approaching, Kaldun!” He gave an apologetic shrug as the door opened. “Today’s events greatly angered him.”

The elegant form of Sekhmetara, clad in the kaleidoscopic gown of terror-bird feathers she had worn upon the opening ceremony of the Council moved, flanked by two of her own mortal guards. She would have not worn the gown a second time at the same great gathering, but her brother had yet to be graced by the sight of it and she felt that terribly unfair. With her heightened senses, even the elongated train of the gown offered no difficulty to both herself and the servants that rushed by. She accepted the hurried bows of those she passed, while perhaps good decorum should not be rushed, she was entirely sure that anything which caused mortals to not halt in proper deference to herself was of great importance, either to the Imperium or their own immediate survival.

"I certainly understand any frustration my brother might have." The ebony primach smiled one of her more charming smiles to her brother’s guardians as they reached the entrance, dismissing her own two companions with a quick wave of her hand before moving into the chamber alone.

The room was destroyed. Burns dotted the walls from where lightning had hit them, and there were claw marks across any surface that could have been conceivably reached. The desk that had been put there for Kaldun’s use was ripped in half, its ends thrown on either side of the room. The Thunder of Labrys was jammed into the wall immediately to the right of the room, sunk into the wall several inches from the force of its throw. Chandrian, Kaldun’s second, gave a deferential bow to her as she appeared. “I will leave the two of you to discuss.” He left quickly, moving by her.

Kaldun turned to his sister, breathing heavily, and gave a bright smile at the sight of her. “Sister! To what do I owe this delightful surprise visit?!” He held out his arms and moved forward to hug her.

Sekhmetara met the embrace with true warmth, the soft touch of her gown and form against his armour. She had not expected such immediate warmth from her fellow primach, given her previous encounters with her siblings who's unfortunate cultures lacked the emotive expression of her own, but it was a welcome change and no ounce of surprise made it to her expression or slowed her reciprocation.

He looked around the room, a bit sheepishly. “You seem to have caught me in a moment of passion! I do feel bad about running out the human servants! They always seem to be frightened by my yelling!” He grabbed one of the few chairs that had survived his wrath and offered it to her. “Please, sit! It would be rude for me to not offer you what I can!”

"They are but things, brother, they can be replaced." She waved a dismissive hand, the painstaking work of many mortal craftsman dismissed upon the whims of a Primach. She took the offered seat, crossing one leg over the other beneath the long skirts of her gown, the shimmering feathers catching the light as they were intended to. "I do not bemoan the company of any of our siblings, they all play their role in our Father’s grand vision, but some are more trying than others." She offered Kaldun a more personal, conspiratorial smile to the diplomatic one his guards had received while she studied her sibling, for the first time in so proximate and intimate a setting.

"But we need not discuss them if you would rather not destroy more of what is left of your furniture, we have much to catch up on." She chuckled softly, a sonorous noise which spoke of true fascination with one of her estranged fellow Primachs, an increasingly small number of introductions left to give.

Kaldun laughed. “Trying! That is a very diplomatic word for it! Yes, trying is what Sarghaul and Nimue are! I’ll use that instead of ‘monstrous’ and ‘mad’! Much more diplomatic!” He grinned at her, waving a hand. “But enough about our ‘trying’ siblings! I see that you would like to work together, to increase your legion’s psychic knowledge! Well, you have come to no better place! The Golden Legion is the premier source of psychic knowledge and power in the entirety of the Imperium! We can even train your auxilaries, be they mortal or xenos!” Kaldun grinned, smacking his chest as he made his boast.

“We have all been born upon different worlds, faced different trials and had to overcome them in our own ways. If anything we would simply get more done if we build bridges between us rather than burn them.” Sekhmetara spoke with a lightly scolding tone, although it sounded as much a jest as any true advice, before smiling at his words on the psychic matter.

“I would like to focus on the advancement of the Tears in psychic doctrine, as opposed to our mortal or xenos auxiliaries.” The elegant dexterity of her fingers momentarily straightened an errant fold of her gowns, even this corrective measure seemingly perfectly designed to highlight the perfection of the primach herself.

“The combined psychic might of those wishing to take part shall join my efforts in the Galactic North, although I seek to engage in the matter myself, it will primarily be a test of the Astartes themselves.”

“Very well! I will do my best to not accuse our ‘trying’ siblings anymore, regardless of their actions! Our father wants a united front, and the Imperium will only benefit from such unity!” He nodded at her words about the auxiliaries. “Fair enough! We shall elevate the Librarians of the Tears of Dawn to the level of the Golden Spears! While I wish we would do the same with your auxiliaries, the Legion takes precedent! I will leave the diplomacy to you and your daughters! As you may have noted, my sons and I are ‘trying’ diplomats!” He laughed again, pleased with his joke.

“How many of my sons do you wish to be on this venture? I cannot send too many, as we are needed to combat the psychic powers of the Eldar on the craftworld, but we do need a strong number of trained psykers to help guide the others! And there is none better than the Spears at training and wielding psychic powers!”

“However many you wish to spare, although this is a matter of research and thought, experience and an ability to teach will likely be far more useful than numbers.” Sekhmetara spoke with an amused smile which matched her brother’s tone, even if her enjoyment was rather more based on speaking with someone not currently accusing the entire room of treason as opposed to finding his wit truly amusing. “My Legion itself will likely be dispersed across an ever growing front, and I will not ask my siblings to commit greater resources than my own Legion can spare, especially to a matter which concerns itself with more esoteric aims than purely our commitments of conquest to our father. Sekhmetara rose from where she sat, her skirts shimmering in the Light of the room, her own grace no doubt throwing into further contrast the chaos of the room about them.

“My Equerry shall provide further details of the administrative side of matters should they be required.” Sekhmetara knew every proposed detail of what she had planned, but did not feel the need to spend her own time communicating such, such was the task of minds that did not also have to consider the cosmic front of galactic war. “But if you wish to spend some time in quarters not entirely ravaged by the wrath of a scion of the Emperor, you are welcome to return with me to my own delegation, we will be toasting another round of debate survived.” She smiled, with a more direct form of a amusement, the golden flecks of her eyes sparkling as much as her own personal radiance.

Kaldun nodded, thinking to himself. “Very well, I have a number of my sons in mind for teaching! There will only be 500 of them, but they are all patient and skilled in teaching! They will be able to guide research and thinking, and hopefully prevent any accidents!”

He laughed, looking around the room. “As much as I enjoy toasts, I should stay behind and help clean up my own mess! The poor servants wouldn’t be able to pull the Thunder of Labrys out of the wall, much less repair some of the damages I have done! No, that will require a psychic touch! I thank you for coming sister! We will toast soon, I am sure of it!” He stood himself, waving goodbye to Sekhmetara and turning to begin putting the room he had destroyed back together.

The Mithran primach moved with her usual effortless grace as she passed from the chamber, looking back over her should to accept the wave of her sibling as she did so. She wasn't a foot from the exit before the mortal bodyguard who currently accompanied her fell into step behind her from their place at the entrance. The first visit of many planned for the day. There truly was no rest for the wicked.

So, whilst it is certainly, partially my fault, I'm at a crossroads. If I gave another update, would people be onboard and johnny-on-the-spot ready to leap back into this RP, or should I focus on my next RP idea I have on my 'to do' list and let this one go?

My next one is going to be big, and it'll be in an Elder Scrolls setting btw. But if people are legitimately interested in this one, I will continue it.

I'm still interested but so far there only appears to be 3 of us. Unless the others chime in I'd suggest focussing on the elder scrolls.

The Great Bearer of Lands, The Earthheart, Champion of the Monarch

Aspects: Earth, Crafting

Vigor: 13

Voligan descended from the Palace, moving his limbs as he still felt the tingling from the new shard he had acquired. It was strange. Not bad, certainly, but strange. He could still feel the remnants of the Monarch’s powers sparking through his limbs, finishing the absorption of the crystal. Voligan stopped above the Crown of Galbar, looking down upon his work. He would put the finishing touches on it and let the rest of his family know what he had made. Then, hopefully, they could stop murdering each other and settle their differences amongst a group of peers rather than by whomever got the jump on their opponent, or whomever happened to be the strongest.

Looking around the Crown he noticed something off about the wall of water surrounding the divine meeting place. Parts of it were shimmering and then collapsing down into the normal sea. Strange. Perhaps Ruina’s magic was failing at last, and he would have to reinforce it. Voligan descended towards the water level and finally saw what was causing the long upheld waters to start falling.

Glowing fish were swimming in and around the walls, whipping back and forth in a feeding frenzy. They were evidently feasting on the magic that held the walls up. He could sense the magic of his sister, Sala, in them. Perhaps they were an attempt to fix the damage Ruina had caused to the ocean. Perhaps she simply desired to make them. Regardless of the reason, he needed them to stop lest they drown the Crown back in the ocean Ruina had cleared. Moving quickly, faster than a mortal eye could comprehend, Voligan raced around the water walls of the Crown and gathered the Godfishes that were feeding on its magical energy and placed them miles away from the Crown. He didn’t want to hurt them, for surely Sala had made them for a reason, but he did need them to stop eating the water walls.

Landing back in the middle of the Crown Voligan placed his hand on the ground, focusing his energy. He would have to make something to keep the Godfish out and he needed to make a way to summon all the gods for meetings or disputes. He could combine both of them into one creation.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then the ground rumbled, and the ocean trembled.

In a wide circle around the Crown a strip of land rose a couple miles into the air, pushing through the sea and creating sheer cliffs that prevented the Godfish from reaching the Crown. Evenly spaced around this strip of land were massive holes made of marble that tapered down as they descended into the earth. In front of Voligan rose a conical tube, also made of marble. Pausing for a moment to make sure that his creation was solid, and there were no detectable flaws in it, Voligan nodded to himself. It would work.

He placed his hands on the tube and spoke into it. As he did so, his voice travelled through the tube, down through the tunnels and out of the massive holes on the cliffs. The marble began to glow with divine energy and his voice carried to every divine being on Galbar.

“Brothers and Sisters. I, Voligan the god of Earth, have been named the Champion of The Monarch. I speak with his authority, and I act on his behalf. As I am sure you have all noticed, two of our family have been murdered by their own kin. This stops now. We are better than that. We will be better than that. I have established a meeting ground in the center of Galbar. If you have a dispute or a problem with anyone of divine blood, take it there at the Crown of Galbar. Use this summons to get neutral gods to help settle your disputes without resorting to murder. If you do not do this and attempt to get your justice, revenge, cruel enjoyment, whatever motivates you to act against your fellow gods, I will bring the Monarch’s justice upon you. I trust that none of you will force my hand in such a manner.”

Voligan stopped and the glow faded away from the Summons. All of his family had heard his message, of that he was sure. If any of his family heed his warnings and utilize the Crown was a different discussion. The only thing he could do now is wait. His message delivered, he rose into the sky once more and headed west. He had a promise to the Monarch to fulfill.

Once he was many miles away from the western coast of Termina, Voligan revealed his true form and landed with a crash in the ocean. He looked around, making sure that none of his siblings' creations were near. He didn’t want to interfere with their works, or worse have them interfere with this. Satisfied that there wasn’t anything out in the ocean with him, Voligan gathered his divine energy in his hands. He knelt and placed the power into the seafloor, giving rise to yet another continent.

The sea bubbled and roiled as a glowing mass of metal ripped free of the sea floor and rose to the surface. Steam rose to the sky for miles around the glowing metal, blocking it from sight. As the steam cleared and the metal cooled, Voligan’s great work finally became clear. It was miles and miles of stations and tools for collecting and refining resources, and then forging, crafting, and shaping them into arms and armor. Various openings to the Labyrinth dotted the landscape, surrounded by collection and distribution centers. The edges all had watchtowers with various siege weapons on them, to prevent any mortals from going where they should not. In the center was a gigantic forge and anvil, designed so that Voligan could use it himself in his true form. The entire continent radiated magical energy and Voligan rumbled, pleased with his work. Now all it needed was workers to man it.

He considered the golems for a moment, but no. They would be too independent and intelligent for the endless, monotonous work that this would require. He needed simple creatures that would obey his every command and never grow tired of it. Never even have the chance to grow tired of it. Their only thoughts would be to follow his orders. No sentient race could be used for that.

So Voligan gathered his power and drew metal from the various portals of the Labryinth. In his hands, he created his servants. They were made of metal, and while they were reminiscent of golems, they possessed no souls. No personalities. No will of their own. They did, however, possess a drive to obey and create. They would create the arms and armor that the Monarch required for his personal guard, and defend his forge from invaders. With that done, Voligan immediately set them to work. They would need to start immediately to be ready for the Monarch’s demands. And he would be ready for the Monarch’s demands. He hadn’t been given the shard of Crafting for nothing, and he wasn’t going to fail.

Setting his creations on the ground, dubbing them Automatons, he shifted and felt a jangle along his wrist. Looking down, he rumbled in pleased surprise. The gift from Rosa, so long ago, was still with him. He needed to visit her once more, and see how she was doing. He hadn’t been able to track her since she found her boat and went across the sea once again. It had been too long.

Kaldun’s Stateroom, After the Trial on the Edict of Tolerance

Kaldun slammed the door to his stateroom behind him, only narrowly missing Chandrian as the Astarte hurried into the room behind him. The Primarch was in a fury that was notable, even for him. They would have to do their best to keep it behind closed doors, or as much as they were able too. Chandrian opened the door and spoke to the two Spears that had followed them. “Guard the door, stop anyone you can, alert us to those you can’t.” They nodded their understanding, and Chandrian closed the door and turned to face his Primarch.

Without a word, Kaldun put his fist through the desk that had been left for him and smashed it violently on the ground until it broke in two. If Chandrian had been human, the sudden cacophony of violence would have been startling. As it was, he simply counted how many blows it took for the desk to break in half (Six smashes. It seemed they had built the desk for sturdiness. A pity.) Kaldun threw the one half that remained on his fist towards the wall and kicked the other soon after. The two halves shattered against the wall with a deafening crash.

“I see you’re taking today’s events well.” Chandrian noted, stepping back and to the side slightly. It would be best to get the fury out of the way now, before trying to address anything that had happened during the Trial. Not that there was much to talk about aside from the accusations Eiohsa had made.

“MONSTERS. BASTARDS!” Kaldun shouted, lightning bolts sparking off of him in fury. They struck against the walls, tearing out chunks and leaving burn marks all along the office. “We knew! We knew what they were all along and we let them get away with this!” He grabbed a chair but it disintegrated in his hands as lightning raced up it from his grip. With an unintelligible growl, he shot out another lightning bolt at the wall, setting the tapestry there alight.

“Well, we didn’t let them get away with anything.” Chandrian pointed out, watching another bolt of lightning whisk by. The Lurkers were always a sore spot with Kaldun, and today’s events only threw fuel on the fire. A lot of fuel on the fire. “As soon as you discovered what the Lurkers were, you refused to work with them and actively hindered their attempts at gathering humans for ‘research’ when you were in the same sector.”

“I should have killed Sarghaul as soon as I met him! Then purged his foul spawn from the galaxy! It would have improved the Imperium! It would have saved Eiohsa’s daughters!” The words came out with such fury that for a moment Chandrian was afraid Kaldun would unintentionally ignite the air in front of him. When that, fortunately, did not happen Chandrian simply shook his head. It was a pretty dream, but nothing more than that.

“No, you would have gotten yourself and all of your sons killed by the Imperium as they took down the rogue Primarch that killed his brother.” Chandrian realized his mistake almost as soon as the last word left his mouth, but it was too late by then. Kaldun let out another furious shout, more akin to a roar. In a flash, faster than Chandrian could comprehend, the Thunder of Labrys was drawn and flung at the wall next to him. With a thunderous crack it embedded itself almost a foot into the wall, lightning crackling off of it.

“That thing is not my brother! It is a monster that my father should have killed in the cradle!” Kaldun’s voice seemed to shake the room, and another bolt of lightning tore off of him and destroyed a chunk of the wall. He picked up a piece that landed next to him and threw it back at the wall, sending smoking shards scattering everywhere. Chandrian nodded, stepping another foot or two away from the embedded spear. Brother had been a poor choice of words, but his point remained the same regardless of Kaldun’s feelings.

“Be that as it may, attacking Sarghaul then,” he hurried as he saw an idea enter Kaldun’s furious mind, nipping a problem in the bud. He was too angry to trust with sudden, impulsive ideas. “or now will only turn the vast majority of the Imperium against us. Even if the Daughters of Iron take our side, that is not a battle we will be able to win without destroying ourselves or crippling the Imperium at large, at a time when we need to keep it together with the Emperor stepping back. As much as we trust Eihosa, we have no solid evidence that the others are willing to go off of. Patience is required, and then we can mete out the justice that is so long overdue.”

“And,” he added helpfully, “we stopped them from turning over the Edict of Tolerance. Which not only would have crippled the Imperium and cost a massive amount of resources to enact, it would have crippled the Golden Legion in particular. So it wasn’t all bad news today.”

Kaldun stood for a few moments, seeming to not have even heard Chandrian, breathing heavily. Then he let out another bellow of frustration, destroying another part of the room with lightning. Chunks scattered against his armor, smoking from the heat. A few more moments of silence followed before Kaldun had mastered himself enough to speak. When he did, something else had entered his mind. Chandrian could tell. “Fine. We will wait. For now. But we won’t be idle. What was that planet that had the altered Ogryn?”

“Trandashar. They had altered the Ogryn so much through cyborgs and chemicals that they were able to put up a fight against the Spears.” Chandrian looked over at the destroyed room before turning his attention back to Kaldun, confused by the question. His Primarch had never cared to think back on former enemies before. They were all the same to Kaldun. “Why?”

“I want you to have the Golden Legion start carrying a significant number of them, in reserve. In addition, I want the Spears to start studying combat footage of all of our fellow Legions. If anyone asks, we are increasing the combat capability of our Auxilia and hoping to increase the Spears' knowledge by studying other Legions.” Kaldun began to pace back and forth, crushing debris beneath his feet. Chandrian’s eyebrows rose with concern, and a dawning realization that they were heading into dangerous territory. as the Golden Conqueror continued to speak. “Also increase the recruitment of the Golden Legion. I want their numbers to increase as fast as possible without sacrificing too much training.” The Primarch continued before Chandrian could interject, waving a hand to stave off any warnings or attempts to divert his mind from this train of thought.

“Even if we assume that the Lurkers allow the Custodians to search through their den of monstrosities without any trouble, we can’t assume that they’ll just accept the Emperor’s punishment without a fight. I want the Spears to be alert for when the Lurkers try to escape justice, and I do not want them to be unprepared.”

Kaldun paused, looking over at Chandrian. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps Sarghaul is correct, and he has lost control of his spawn and he will allow them to be exterminated as they should be. Perhaps this will all be for nothing more than increasing the combat effectiveness of the Spears. But if I’m not, I don’t want it to be a drawn out battle.”Kaldun clapped his hands on Chandrian’s shoulders. “If they ever tell the history of a Civil War in my Father’s Imperium, it will not be a history of months and years, bloody battles and bitter victories. It will be a history of days and weeks, swift justice and merciless executions. All because the Golden Spears were ready.” He gave Chandrian a small shake on the shoulders.

“And we will be ready.”
Yesaris Week

Vandak cursed as he watched the flock of sheep out in the cold, tightening his grip around . Just another gift from his cursed luck. He could be with the tribe, eating the mushrooms that Glor had brought in. But no, he had foraged berries that were spoiled and accidentally poisoned the chief. In punishment for yet again costing the tribe some valuable food, he was sent to protect the flock from predators while they ate. This was just like the time he had tripped while carrying his end of the deer, sending it careening into the river and away from them and their hungry bellies. He had spent hours trying to make up for that lost meal, and had lost out on his own fair share of meals for it. Or the time when he had been hit by the spear that Glor threw, meant for the boar they were hunting. It had been his bad luck to stand right when Glor was throwing, trying to make up for giving away their position in the first place by stepping on an unnoticed twig. He was cursed with bad luck, he knew it and so did the rest of the tribe. That’s why he was alone so often, so that he couldn’t hurt others with his curse. And yet, he still found ways. If the tribe could afford it, they would have cast him out long ago. They were too small to afford such a luxury. As it was, they managed his curse as best they were able and kept him around. So long as his contributions to the tribe outweighed his curse, he should be fine.

It was a cold comfort that didn’t stop his stomach from growling.

The minutes turned into hours and Vandak distracted himself by counting how many times the sheep moved in their sleep. The average was three movements before settling down for a while. He didn’t count the ones that woke up fully, as they spent a lot of time moving or getting a late night snack. Like he wished he could.

Finally he heard steps behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief. He could scrounge up some food from the leftovers, perhaps. At the very least he’d be able to get something in his belly for the night. Whomever was relieving him had evidently eaten too much, judging from their groans.

“Took you long enough to get here!” He complained, turning around to face whomever was going to replace him. “I’ve been starving for the past few hours! How long does it take to eat mushrooms any…” He trailed off as the person stumbled forward out of the shadow. Fungus and mushrooms were growing out of his mouth and eyes. Vandak gagged, stumbling backwards, and gripping his staff tighter. “What, who-wha- Stay back!” He swung the staff, cracking the monster across the head. It’s head snapped back and it stumbled backwards, landing on the ground.

It snarled, suddenly rushing at him on all fours. Vandak backpedalled, gasping in fear. He needed to get past this thing, to warn the tribe. As he scrambled backwards, his eyes looked past the monster to see if anyone had heard the conflict. He let out a cry of fear, seeing more of those things rushing from where the tribe had been cooking the mushrooms. On all fours, they rushed towards him. As they got closer, he began to recognize them. Fungus grew from their faces and eyes, their hands and ears, their bodies and limbs, but he could recognize them, much to his horror.

Before he could flee and get away from these horrible monsters that used to be his tribe, his bad luck struck again. He tripped over a sheep that hadn’t fully awoken and the staff, his only weapon, flew from his hands off into the darkness. He scrambled backwards, muttering prayers to anything that would listen as the horde rushed forward, drooling and snarling. He just wanted to live, he just wanted to live, why did he have to be cursed with bad luck, he didn’t deserve this he didn’t deserve this, please something just go right in his godsforsaken life for once, please-

His panicked stream of thoughts were suddenly cut off as a white light enveloped him. The last thing he saw was the fungal monsters descending on the sheep like a ravenous horde. Vandak landed with a soft thud on cold dirt, gasping for breath and willing his heart to slow down as he stared up at the cavern ceiling. He was alive, he thought. His back hurt too much from where he landed for him to have been dead.

With a groan he pulled himself to a sitting position, looking around. He was in a nondescript cavern, with water flowing by. It was quiet and, strangely, comforting. The only thing that stood out to him was a small headstone. Vandak struggled to his feet and walked over to the headstone, quietly reading aloud what it read.

“Luck is gone, but her blessings remain.”

Faeril, as per usual, is annoyed by Lorcan and paranoid about an attack.
Faeril looked around the quarrem, with his lip instinctively curling. This was a hive where the rats of the city scurried about and hoped they wouldn’t be noticed by the guards. They wouldn’t receive any trouble from the law here. That long arm would only come down here occasionally to shake the nests or if the rats bit someone above their station. Still, this was what they would have to work with if they wanted to get the alcohol required to soothe the innkeep. Faeril kept his hood up and his back to the wall of the room that Raddek had entered. They didn’t want to attract the attention of anyone shilling broken wares or false powers.

“Hello my friends…..”

Faeril’s eyes beseeched the heavens as the fortune teller immediately started begging for coppers. Gods above, it was like he could smell that they had some money on them. The fortune teller was right to speak to them of course. There was at least one of them who wouldn’t be able to resist such wriggling worm on a shiny hook.

As if on cue, Lorcan opened his mouth. Faeril sighed as he watched the giant man walked over to the fortune teller, spouting off some nonsense about how the fortune teller was probably fake. Which was obvious to everyone with a pair of eyes. A real fortune teller wouldn’t be trapped in this hovel. It was as if the giant couldn't help himself. There was some desperate need for him to run his mouth and prove how smart and intelligent he was too the rest of the world at large. At every available opportunity. Still, it wouldn’t do them any good if the giant fool was shivved in front of them.

Faeril pulled his crossbow into his hands, and kept a careful eye out. Blood here would summon more rats.



The Monarch of All

Voligan stood at the top of the Earthheart mountain, looking up towards the Palace. He turned into his true form and raised his voice to the heavens. “Lord of Creation! I, the Great Bearer of Lands, have come to request something of you. I have noticed the storm that haunts Galbar’s skies. I have seen the devastation and grief wrought by the attacks of my siblings on their own flesh and blood. I wish to prevent such crimes from happening again, and to fight with you against the battle that is coming. The bones of Galbar strain and groan with the rising tension of the conflict to come. I wish to be your Champion against whatever darkness plagues our canvas.” Voligan waited in his kneeling position with his head bowed, for the Monarch of All to respond. There came no voice, though; there was no grand statement from the Monarch of All, but the bridge to the Palace of the Divine extended itself to Voligan, opening the heaven so that one of His spawn may return.

Voligan entered the palace, turning his form to that of a humanoid made of shining silver, reflecting the red of the palace. He arrived before the Monarch of All, getting down on one knee and bowing his head towards this creator. It was always better to seem as humble and deferential as possible when one was requesting gifts from their creator. And creator was a far more fitting title for the Monarch than Father. The elder god was too distant, too overbearing, too demanding to be any paternal figure.

“With your blessing, and as your champion I would protect the canvas you have charged us with and ensure that no more of my siblings commit such gruesome crimes as familicide. I will be our shield against the darkness inside of my family, and your sword against the darkness that the earth of Galbar warns all of us of.” Voligan spoke calmly and clearly, head still bowed towards the Monarch of All.

The Monarch of All’s eyes went to Voligan, burning in his soul before the Monarch slumped back within the Jade Throne allowing the ruse of royal strength to fade as He had little to give at that time. The Almighty let out a pain groan, taking the time to think of an answer for the earth god as the pain radiated outwards, almost palpable to even Voligan. The hallowed form of the Ruler was battered from a previous fight, scars slowly receding into His form were noticeable all across His body. There was a sigh as the pain withdrew and the Monarch of All gazed upon Voligan once more, before His pained voice manifested itself weaker than it normally was.

”And what makes you worthy of being such a champion? Worthy of warring upon my behalf against those that wish to oppose my will?”

"I am the strongest of all my siblings." The statement was spoken matter-of-factly, without a boast or a hint of pride. He could feel the pain of his creator, the Monarch's battered form just at the edge of his vision.

"My siblings relied on my strength to raise the lands they now paint. When Ao-Yurin's sea water remnant attacked Rosalind, it was I who defeated her. When Aletheseus attempted to kill Rosalind, daring to question the power of your shackles, I was the one who defeated him. I have raised mighty mountain ranges to and islands that connect the two main lands, all without my strength faltering."

"I possess the self-control and wisdom to carry out your will without resorting to killing those that you do not wish to be killed. Much like the justice you meted out to Yudaiel, I am capable of bringing your will to bear without killing. Of course, my strength is more than capable of destroying whomever you deem deserves such a fate. My strength would be yours to direct, with the trust that it would not require your constant oversight."

There was silence as the Monarch of All’s gaze continued to wash over Voligan before He motioned a hand for the gods to rise. It was only until the great Supreme One let out a light, cruel chuckle that He would allow yet more words to callously move their way to the earth god. They seemed to be taunting in nature, almost looking for a reaction from Voligan as they swarmed into his mind with a dark, infectious hold.

”Would you say such things had you heard about my judgement upon your niece, Ea Nebel? How she is to endure four trials or die?”

If Voligan’s form had possessed any features, there would have been a twitch. A small crack in his deferential facade. As it was, there was the most fleeting of emotions from the now standing Earth god. Worry and anger appeared and were covered by the same calm confidence as before so quickly that any other being would have wondered if they had been felt at all.

“She is strong. She possesses the fire of her mother and the will of her father. She will take on these trials and not only survive them but grow from the experience. She will prove herself to you and all others that may be watching. And if not…” Voligan shrugged, almost pulling it off as a careless gesture. “Her father made her promise to not flee her doom.”

“Your judgement is unquestionable, your word is law. I would, and will as your champion, continue to enforce that even if I had been there for your judgement of Ea Nebel.”

”Your words convey unquestioning loyalty, yet, you wavered. I felt it.”

The cruel inflection of the voice had dropped itself, giving way to far more neutral one as the Monarch of All had responded to Voligan’s loyal words. However, He was able to detect the brief anger that the earth god had felt despite his best efforts to hide such feeling from the One. Voligan did not deny the claim but simply stood, awaiting the next words from his lord.

It was a tense few moments before the Monarch of All arose from His throne and continued His wordless gaze on Voligan, light reflecting off the form and decorating the walls. The Monarch of All spread two of his hands wide, outstretching them to either side of His form as His will manifested into cold words once more.

”There are beasts and monsters far more powerful than you that roam beyond and within the veil. I have faced such beasts, as has Tuku, we have slain the great Pariah. Could you accomplish such feats through strength alone? Could you face down death with unbroken will?”

“If my strength alone was not enough and my death was not required for victory, either right then or later, I would retreat and create weapons to increase my power. I have a talent for crafting, I have discovered. It is an aspect I would like to claim to further my skills as your champion and to more easily create whatever is needed to enact your will.”

Voligan looked up at the Monarch of All. Storing away the tidbit of information that he had been given. Things stronger than the gods? Strong enough that the Monarch needed help to slay them? That was something to be considered later. “I do not fear death, Lord of Creation. My will is my strength, and my strength is my will. If my death is required to protect my siblings, yourself, or the canvas you have created I will do so gladly.”

”You have proven to be loyal, to be a protector of family and the weak. Then let it be so, Voligan, Great Bearer of Lands, that you shall become my champion. You shall be my sword, arbitrator of my will, and protector of the Divine Palace and Galbar.”

As the Monarch of All spoke, power flooded into Voligan’s very soul as he was branded the Champion of the Monarch of All and imbued thusly imbued with the power that such a position held. The two hands that had sat at the ruler’s sides reached out and laid themselves to rest upon the shoulders of Voligan, their weight heavy but uplifting. His gaze met that of the earth god and it brought untold warmth to his soul, as the power continued to course through him until it fell away and became one with Voligan. The Earthheart was surprised by the weight, bracing himself as he received both the power of the Monarch and the weight of His gaze. Voligan’s silver form began to shine with an inner glow as he received the gift of the Monarch.

Once more would He speak, His voice presiding over the newly dubbed Champion of the Monarch.

”To this end, breaking the covenant that is being my champion will strip you of this power and you might not ever be able to regain it until proven worthy once more.”

Voligan nodded his understanding. With the title came responsibility, and if he neglected those responsibilities he would lose his title. It was only fair.

“I will be the sword and the shield, Lord of Creation. And I will not fail in those duties. To further your will and my duties, may I have the Aspect of Crafting, so that I may forge monuments and artifacts to honor you and help Galbar. ”

In a brief moment of consideration, the Monarch of All withdrew His hands, tucking them together as He sat upon the Jade Throne and looking past Voligan for a time, as if His gaze was wandering all over the planet. With a huff, He absentmindedly plucked yet another shard from His chest, loosing a curse of pain as He did so, before allowing the shard to slowly float to the earth god.

”So young and eager for yet more power than has already been gifted to you. Ambition can be a curse if not tended to properly. Do not disappoint me, Great Bearer of Lands.”

Voligan took the shard within himself, gasping as he felt his divine essence be irrevocably changed. His form, once only vaguely humanoid and ill-defined, sharpened into focus like a carved statue as lines of divine power spread all throughout him. His face remained featureless, but he was no longer a crudely shaped god. “My ambition is only borne of my desire to protect our family and paint your canvas as you have demanded, Lord of Creation.” He knelt before the Monarch again, as much out of respect as to catch his breath. The process of receiving a shard was more tiring than expected.

“I thank you for your trust and your gift. Unless you have a specific decree for me, Lord, I will take my leave and continue creating.”

”As a matter of fact, I do have a decree for you Voligan. I will give you this one order, make weapons and armor fit for use by those who would defend the palace. I will require an army’s worth for what I have planned.”

"As you say my Lord. I request to know what I will be making these weapons and armor for. As you are aware, weapons and armor for a Bjork are going to be different than the weapons and armor for a human."

The Monarch of All inclined His head, pondering the thought for a brief few moments before His voice dictated the answer to the champion in a more amused tone.

“Form will not matter. They will be molded into their armor.”

"Understood. Any specific requests for these weapons and armor?"

Gesturing to His body, the scars and wounds left behind by the pariah not so long ago, His voice split the air in a vindictive manner and filled the air with malice and anger. Wrought with a need for further revenge, His claws dug into the sides of His throne carving out the image of the Monarch of All skewering the great pariah upon the trident.

”Let them be powerful enough to fight the beasts that had done this to me.”

No Vigor spent.
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