Voligan headed back to the Earthheart Mountain, finally able to finish what he had started there now that things had calmed down. Or, at the very least, things weren’t so violently exploding that he had to drop everything and run all at once. He checked on the dwarves that he had established. They were doing well so far. Exploring the cave systems that he had established for them and beginning to organize themselves. One of them had risen as a natural leader and was directing those around him as they others looked to him for answers and guidance. Yes, they were doing well. They needed just a touch of guidance to help them on their way.
Voligan appeared in front of the dwarves as they went about their business, startling them as a vaguely humanoid rocky shape took form in front of them. They cowered before him, backpedaling from this faceless thing that looked over at them. Voligan held his hands out placatingly. “Do not be afraid. My name is Voligan, one of the Gods of the Monarch. I am here to help, and to teach you things that you will need to know if you are to thrive in this world.” Their leader pushed himself forward, looking up at Voligan. The fear was palpable in his eyes, but so too was the desire to protect those that were in his charge. Voligan was pleased to see that. The dwarf in front of him would be a good leader.
“What makes you a god? What makes you worthy of teaching us anything, and why should we believe that you’re not going to harm us instead?” He challenged, his voice shaking only a little. Voligan didn’t reply. They were good questions, and the first one at least deserved only a demonstration.
Voligan lifted his hand and the stone wall to his left melted away at his will, creating another long tunnel in the mountain. The dwarves all gasped and muttered amongst themselves, looking between Voligan and their leader. Voligan spoke before the leader could.
“What makes me worthy of teaching you is the fact that I created you and all of your fellows. I know more of what is going on amongst the pantheon of gods and the world outside than you could ever hope to discover in your mortal lives. I created this mountain in which you live, and I will teach you things that will make you the undisputed masters of this mountain and the range beyond it. As for why you should believe I won’t hurt you,” Voligan shrugged, and a deep pit opened up between them before rapidly closing. “I could have harmed you all without you ever knowing I was here.”
The dwarf nodded, slowly. The fear in his eyes wasn’t gone, but there was an understanding. Regardless of whether or not he trusted what Voligan was telling him was irrelevant. He didn’t have a choice but to go along with it, and he knew it. “Very well, Lord Voligan. Teach us.” Voligan chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling together. “First lesson, do not call me Lord. I am not here to rule over you. What is your name?”
The dwarf relaxed, if only slightly, at that news. “I am called Hema.”
The dwarves turned out to be fast learners, once they got over their fear of him. They absorbed his lessons on the history of Galbar, as much as he knew at the very least, and hurriedly scratched crude renditions of the various creations, battles, and deaths onto the walls of a large cave. They did not want to forget the lessons and stories he had told them once he left. As quickly as they remembered and crudely recreated the stories of the gods, they also quickly picked up his lessons on how to make tools to shape the earth and how to make proper shelters that weren’t just what the caves naturally gave them. They chose the name for their group at his suggestion, naming themselves in honor of the god they lived atop of: The tribe of Aleth, or the Alethians. There was no discussion as to who would lead them, for they already knew. In all things, the dwarves looked to Hema for their cues and leadership. His direct challenges of Voligan had only solidified their choice in him.
Voligan pulled Hema aside after the final lessons. “Your fellows look up to you as a leader, Hema.” The dwarf nodded watching as the others experimented with and techniques they had been taught. “Yes. Despite my protestations, they continue to look to me for decisions and then abide by what I suggest.”
“Hmm. It sounds like you have been nominated as leader. You will need a title, and a symbol of power then.” Before Hema could protest, Voligan pulled a straight line of stone from the ground. “Yes, this will do nicely.” He held the line of rock in his hands and concentrated, forcing the dull and lifeless mineral to bend to his will and fill with his power.
The stone shifted and glowed with power. Voligan adjusted it til the artifact was to his liking, shortening and widening it until a lightly shining pegmatite scepter was in his hands. He rumbled, pleased with himself and his work. “I proclaim you the first Shaper of Aleth. May you guide your people justly and well, Hema.” A thought occurred to Voligan as Hema took the scepter. There were no other gods who built things, he was sure. It was a role he enjoyed, and one that he could step into. If he proved his skill at creation to the Monarch.
“I have to leave for now. I need to make requests of the Monarch of All, and he prefers the utmost respect and humility while in his presence. If you find yourself and your people in need of help, pray to me or whichever one of my siblings you think will help the most. The majority of us will answer and be helpful.”
Hema nodded again, staring at the scepter in his hands. By the time he looked upwards to fully reply to Voligan, the god was gone.
Voligan headed to the top of the Earthheart, where he was sure he would not be bothered. Before he could visit the Monarch with his request, he would need to prove his prowess. The Monarch would not willingly give up another one of his shards without proof that Voligan was deserving, afterall.
Voligan summoned a countless number of metals, gems, and minerals around him as he pondered what he would make next. “Hmm. The Scepter was a fine start, but simple. I need something with more impact now. Something that isn’t just an extension of my own power.” The cloud of materials swirled around him, occasionally stopping as he peered closer at one thing or another before continuing.
The light of the Tree of Harmony in the far distance caught his eye, and he was struck with an inspiration. Rapidly the materials all around him scattered away until he was left with metals and gems at his disposal. They spun around him, glowing with his power once more, as he spoke aloud and crafted them into shape. “Hmm. Mana is messy. Too many things that can go wrong, too much that is poorly defined. Something that can bring it into shape, no matter what is around or not around, is needed. Something that mortals can use reliably, without fear of their personalities or the nature of the realm around them changing things is what is needed.” By the time he had finished speaking, ten rings with ten gems were resting in the palms of his hands. Runes were carved into the bands, and each of the gems glowed lightly with an inner green fire. “Yes, these will do nicely for bringing order. But the mortals will have to earn them first, just as Hema earned his Scepter.” And he knew just the place to put the rings, waiting for a mortal to earn them. In his search for what was ultimately Ashevelen’s resting spot, he had passed by one of Astus’s Colossi, presumably destroyed by the blast. That would be a perfect place to put the rings, and let the mortals who found them earn their reward.
Voligan was there in a flash, carefully putting his rings in the center of the Colossus. “May mortals find you quickly, and discover your use to them.” He paused, looking up through the ruined Colossus. “Hmm. Mortals and strength.” Another idea struck him in a flash and he was gone.
Voligan returned to the top of the Earthheart, carefully pulling out the remnants of Aletheseus’s mask. It had been shredded by Iqelis and could no longer be used for its original purpose. But it could be crafted into something else, and Aletheseus’s will could live on in another way. The shredded mask began to glow a soft green as Voligan’s power filled it, and he slowly began to reshape it. This was connected to a divine, if deceased, being. Not only that, he wanted to get this perfect. Not just because the Monarch would be pleased with perfect work, but because Aletheseus, for all his faults, deserved an artifact that encapsulated him perfectly.
The tears in the metal slowly sealed shut as the mask lengthened and the many spikes and curls came back into the main body. It curled into a simple band with softly glowing smokey blue lines running through it. Simple. Perfectly made. Perfect for Aletheseus. Voligan put the crown back into his body for safekeeping, and then looked up towards the Palace. “No time like the present, I suppose.” He hoped that his nervousness didn’t show through to the Monarch. And if it did, that it didn’t get mistaken for aggression.
-Voligan, relieved that he he has time to do things now, heads back to the Earthheart. He briefly watches the dwarves he had dropped off there before revealing himself to them and beginning to guide and teach them.
-He teaches them all the history of the world and the gods (that he knows), how to do basic survival things like forage and make a fire, and also how to make basic tools to shape the earth and bricks to make simple shelters. He also encourages them to pick a name for their tribe, and they choose to be called the tribe of Aleth.
-During this he meets the de facto leader of the Alethians, Hema. Seeing that the tribe won’t choose anyone else, Voligan makes it official and gives Hema a fancy title (Shaper) and a fancy pegmatite scepter (The Stone Scepter). As he’s making the artifact, Voligan goes ‘man, there isn’t any gods dedicated to this. And I like doing this. If I can prove myself, I’ll be able to get this job from the Monarch!’
-He leaves to the top of the Earthheart and, once he’s inspired, creates two more artifacts The Rings of the Runemaster and the Peculiar Crown
-Confident that he has made enough things, he then heads up towards the Palace to meet with the Monarch and hopes that King Daddy his creator and lord is in a good mood.
-1 Vigor (reduced from 2 due to aspect: Earth) to teach the Alethians how to make basic earth shaping tools, how to use those tools, the basics of survival (make fire, forage, make shelter, etc etc) and how to make bricks to make sturdier shelters.
-1 Vigor to create The Stone Scepter an artifact that turns its wielder into a Champion (but they still grow old and die) that can manipulate things around them like they have Voligan’s aspect (not to anywhere near the same extent he does, but to a really powerful degree for mortals)
-1 Vigor to create The Rings of the Runemaster Ten rings that form one artifact that allows the user to use Rune Magic instead of accessing Mana in the area. It produces a more reliable form of magic that is less powerful that traditional magic. But you also don’t have to fight your personality, the nature of the land, the nature of what you’re trying to do, and all that jazz.
-1 Vigor to create The Peculiar Crown a crown made from Aletheseus’s mask that fills its wearer with the aspect of Fortitude, making them really tough, filled with endless stamina, and strong of mind as well making them immune to fear, despair, and domination by all but the divine. However, it forces the wearer to also protect and help the innocent whenever they can.
Faeril murmured a prayer of thanks to Sulimo as they entered the light of day. It wouldn’t be much protection against anyone who truly wanted to do them harm, be they mortal or monster, but the protection of the light did offer some comfort. After last night, he would take all the small comforts he could get. He was especially troubled by the fact that the demon hadn’t been attacking Beren, but had been trying to get into the hallway. Unless Jonathan had some terribly dark secrets that he wasn’t revealing, he could only assume the thing was coming for one of them. It would have been easier to go through the door if it wanted to get to something or someone on the ground level, but it specifically chose the area where they were all sleeping. Troubling.
At least whoever had been murdering people in the streets didn’t seem connected. Beren had been burned by the hybrid, not bloodied. Whatever was going on with the bloodied corpse with a gaping hole in its side was, hopefully, not their problem. Faeril followed Raddek’s example and moved on without a word. That wasn’t something they wanted to involve themselves in.
The wharves were impressive, more impressive than Faeril would admit aloud. At some point he would have to take a proper tour of the city and just see how well done their architecture was all around. Everytime he discovered a new location, it seemed to get better and better. Not as good as home, of course. But better than most human works. Faeril scowled under his cloak as his back twinged at the memories. No sense in reminiscing. He wasn’t surprised that the docks were mostly empty of ships. Even for as large and wealthy as Varone was, no one wanted to go to a land that had been cursed by the gods.
Faeril leaned against a wall in the circle, keeping an eye out for anyone taking too much of an interest in them. They didn’t need any overly inquisitive fools bothering them, or thugs trying to rob them. He rolled his eyes at the immediate suggestions for sneaking and stealing. How quickly they forgot that the last time they tried to be stealthy the plan fell apart at the seams. Plus, it wasn’t like they needed to be picking fights in a city they didn’t even know.
“I’d suggest we go to the smugglers. No sense in us getting on the shit list of any group in the city when we haven’t been here long. And given our previous experiences with trying to be quiet and stealthy, “ Faeril looked pointedly at Lorcan before continuing, “I’m going to guess we’ll fail at that. We have the money for it, might as well make a small connection with a smuggler. Easier than trying to sneak in and then having to cut our way out.” He turned to face the group, hiding his coin pouch from any prying eyes, and pulled out the five golden royals. “Unless the smuggler deals exclusively to nobles and the rich, this should be more than enough. Or do a job for them in exchange for the alcohol. And if it all falls through then we can go find some poor bastards and steal their alcohol.” He shrugged, stashing the coins away again and returning to watching the wharves. “Seems easier that way.”
Perception: 1+1 = 2. Faeril is mostly focused on the conversation, alas
“We will, Sala. I look forward to it.” Voligan watched the salt goddess and the Monarch leave with misgiving. Perhaps he was wrong, but kind beings didn’t decree themselves the rulers of all, enslave their creations and demand that they create for him. The less interactions they all had with the Monarch, the better. He would have to do something about that. Nodding his goodbye to Yoliyachicoztl, Voligan himself headed down towards the empty spot in the ocean beneath them. Ruina had done her work well, certainly. While it wasn’t quite what he had imagined for a central meeting place, it would work well. Maybe even better.
Voligan landed gently on the ground, surrounded by suspended walls of sea water. This would do nicely. It was central, within the eyes of the Monarch (so there wouldn’t be any questions of loyalty or hidden dealings) and big enough for all of them. He would have to thank Ruina later. Voligan placed one massive hand on the ground and concentrated. A moment later, the ground at the edges of the suspended sea rumbled violently as the tips of mountains pushed through them. All around Volgian a circular mountain range rose up into the sky. They cut through the walls of water like a fin on the surface, until they finally stopped at the top of the suspended ocean. They were all uniform in design, with none being higher or lower than the others or differing in any way. His siblings could design their mountains as they wished, but he had other things to do. Besides, it would give them a nice surprise when they arrived here.
He looked around to view his handiwork. A circular ring of mountains for meeting, with a barren plain between them from any disputes that required action instead of words. It was a good area for a council. One that wouldn’t require the Monarch’s attention every time that a dispute was had. As Voligan was standing there, feeling pleased with himself, the Monarch returned. Voligan only nodded his head in respect and appreciation of the title. The Great Bearer of Lands was a mouthful and he would like to have less of the Monarch’s attention on him than he had recently had, but he wasn’t about to complain about it either.
He took one last look at his creation and then nodded to himself. He would tell the rest of the family later. Right now he needed to find the Goddess of Honor.
As Voligan was getting to leave the central island, he heard a voice calling out for help. Looking over, it was the Goddess of Dance. The Feverfoot, trapped in a struggle with the waves.
Battered and torn up, Voligan returned to the unmarked resting place of Aletheseus and watched with interest as the blood of the god of Fortitude carried out his last will. Mountains, rugged and strong, spread across the peninsula as far as the eye could see. They reached towards the sky like massive bones coming out of the dirt. The magic in Aletheseus’ blood lost power as it reached the edges of the peninsula and the Plains, turning into hills and then beaches and ground respectively. Still, it was impressive how far the Aletheseus’ will had gone. Even in death, he was resilient. The mountains would be called the Bones of Fortitude. Voligan would make sure of it. It would only be fitting that Aletheseus’s mountains were named after him.
These mountains would also be an excellent place to place mortals, with a little touch of his own here and there. Raising his hands, he brought forth more of Astus’s minerals and gems throughout the Bones, so that mortals he placed there would be able to craft and forge in the future. The metals flowed through the peninsula like water and settled within the many mountains and caverns throughout them. He put his fingers into the earth and encouraged the grounds around and in the Bones to be filled with nutrients so that Phelenia’s seeding would take place and expand quickly, sustaining the life that he would bring.
His mortals would need a strong place to live, one that would protect them and shelter them from any dangers that may arise while at the same time not stifling their growth and strength. To this end he moved to the center of the Bones and raised his hands once more to the sky. With a rumbling crack another peak rose from the valley below Voligan. It continued to rise, spreading out and racing towards the sky at a blistering pace. Higher and higher it rose, absorbing the mountains next to it as it expanded at the same time, until it was scraping the top of the atmosphere. When Voligan had finished growing it, he began shaping it to his will. It would need caves, tunnels, and caverns so that his mortals would be able to expand and move through it freely.
Voligan shaped the interior to his desires, making it perfect for a species of mortals to grow safely in. He drew more minerals, gems, and ores into this gigantic mountain. His chosen mortals would need it. They would also need food. He put extra nutrients into the caverns and tunnels, ensuring that it would be a fertile place to live. Looking upon it once more, Voligan rumbled in a pleased manner. This was a good place. He would call it The Earthheart, inspired by Rosa’s nickname for him.
Movement caught his eye and he saw that Aletheseus’s will had created life as well. His form shrunk and changed to a rocky and vaguely humanoid shape, as he didn’t want to destroy these creatures before they even had a chance to live, and he went down towards them. Guardians. They were massive, by mortal standards. Strong and made of stone, they looked around as if searching for something.
Voligan watched them, as they silently wandered around the Bones. They paused only to look in caves or around boulders, moving on when they did not find what they were looking for. It was curious, watching them work. At first he thought they had been looking for some form of sustenance, but they turned away from open veins he had led to the surface, nor did they eat any of the rocks or burgeoning plant life. After a while, it finally dawned on Voligan what they were searching for. Aletheseus’s last moments had been of thinking to protect the mortals. They were doubtlessly looking to protect the mortals that he had so valued. Voligan would help them. Besides, too many of them in his Earthheart and his mortals would never be able to grow.
He gathered the majority of them (leaving a few in the Bones for his own mortals) and then raced across Galbar as fast as he could, pausing only to drop them in various places. He didn’t know where his siblings were going to make sapient life, but he knew it would expand across Galbar sooner or later. He placed a few near the Bjorks in particular. They already looked like they needed protection, and the Guardians needed something to protect. Really it was a win win.
He returned to the Bones, satisfied that he had spread the Guardians (as he had named them) sufficiently around the earth. Now all he needed was mortals, and he knew just the Goddess to go too.
Voligan was heading back to the Bones, 100k humans in tow, when the lands to the north were completely annihilated in a display of power that rivaled and surpassed Ruina’s ‘test’ at the beginning of time. Voligan stopped in his tracks, shielding the humans in his care with more layers of rock and earth, and looked over the inner sea. Someone had thrown mountains into the land, and he felt something whither and break within the world. What, he was not sure. But it needed to be investigated.
Not while he was carrying mortals with him, however. He hurriedly returned to the Earthheart, separating the humans into two even groups, each into their own orb of earth. He needed to move quickly. There was no time for theatrics as he manipulated their forms. The first group he encouraged the turn to flesh and bone that Homura had built into the humans, shortening them and making them on average stronger and hardier. They would need to be to survive in the Earthheart and the Bones.
The others he removed the turn entirely from them, ensuring that they would be made of stone and that their offspring would have to be built with whatever materials were at hand. Their lot was not to be made of lesh, but inorganic materials and unending life. A rune was given to them, that they could carve into the bodies of their children and it would draw a blank soul from Theyra’s afterlife. A soul with no memories, no personality, and no desires of its past life.
Voligan worked quickly, manipulating the lives and spirits of his humans until they were almost unrecognizable from the humans Homura had given him. They would be distantly related, certainly, but it would be very distantly. Some of the shorter ones, which he named dwarves, he placed into the Earthheart. The rest of them, and the others (which he named golems) he spread across the continents of Galbar. This was less precise than his spreading of the Guardians had been, but there wasn’t any time for careful planning. Something terrible had just happened and he needed to figure out what before the Monarch came knocking on all their doors.
The golems and dwarves spread around the earth, with his chosen dwarves already inhabiting the Earthheart, Voligan made his way towards the destroyed land to figure out what happened and why everything felt so wrong. He could only hope that it wasn’t something like what Iqelis had done to Aletheseus, but his instincts told him he was a fool for hoping that.
His instincts were vindicated as he came across the Tlacan sea and its floating islands. The whole depressing area reeked of Iqelis’ touch, and Voligan made sure to stay above and away from the cursed area. There was nothing he could do about the doomed area but tell his mortals to stay away from it and hope that the other gods would do the same. It would bring only misery to any who ventured there.
Passing over Iqelis’ handy work, Voligan quickly made his way to the devastated area. There was no obvious answer to his question, so he would have to search. Unfortunately.
Buckle up for a time jumping Voligan extravaganza.
-Voligan leaves the meeting with Monarch, Yoli, and Sala after saying goodbye to Yoli, and then makes his meeting place for the gods: The Crown of Galbar.
-He looks at his handy work with pride, politely nods in acceptance of the title from the Monarch, and then gets ready to go find Homura because he wants to make sapient life too, but gets distracted by Rosa calling for help. You can read that collab here
-After saving Rosa,nearly killing (and then witnessing the death of) Aletheseus, Voligan returns to Aletheseus’ unmarked grave and watches the last vestiges Aletheseus’s will take place. Aletheseus’ blood creates The Bones of Fortitude, and gives life to the non-sapient but very powerful Guardians. These massive creatures are an average height of 20ft and exist to protect areas, particularly those areas containing mortal life. A CS on those will come later, but Voligan spreads them across Galbar.
-Voligan then creates a 30k feet tall mountain in the center of the Bones, calls it Everest, but bigger The Earthheart. He makes it filled with caves and caverns, nourishes those caves and caverns with nutrients that will support plant and animal life (building on what Phelenia had done) and then leaves to go find Homura for realizies this time, needing sapients to put in The Earthheart. He finds her and you can read that collab here
-As he’s returning to the Bones to begin his mortal spree, Yuadiel murders the shit out of Ashevelen and I’m sure you’ve already read that collab. Voligan goes ‘what the fuck was that’ quickly makes his mortals (the dwarves and the golems, there will be a CS on them both soon), spreads them with far less precision than he spread the Guardians, and heads over to the newly destroyed area to figure out what the hell just happened.
-2 Vigor spent to make The Crown of Galbar Mountain range/godly meet up area. 14 Vigor left.
-2 Vigor spent to make The Earthheart the world’s largest mountain at 30k feet, specifically designed to best hold sapient life. 0 Vigor spent to nourish the cave and tunnel systems to support plant (in this case, fungal) life and put valuable minerals and ores in them. (Free aspect: Earth, also building on the seeding that Phelenia had started). 12 Vigor left.
-4 vigor (2 on 50k of the humans and 2 on the other 50k of the humans) spent to turn humans into dwarves and golems, respectively. Dwarves function like normal humans except that they are shorter, denser, and stronger on average (not superhuman, but like how strongmen are stronger than the average person) than humans. Golems can be made of whatever material happens to be at hand, but the parents have to build their offspring themselves and then carve a rune into them that will take a soul from the afterlife and place it into the body. This soul will be made blank by the process, thus not having any memories, personality, or desires from their previous life. No, Voligan did not ask Theyra if this was okay.
-Aletheseus’s last vigor: 8 Spent to create the Bones of Fortitude, 3 Vigor spent to create the Guardians.
Row row row your boat Gently down the stream Merrily merrily merrily merrily Life is but a dream
&
ROSALIND
RAGING ROSA | THE DANCE-DEMON | FEVERFOOT | LEAPING LINDA
And finally, there was peace.
Rosa rowed her boat gently down the velvet corridor of space. She rowed it through the great atmospheric wall of raging flame - purple and orange and pink, and other blazing colours that sent her softly simmering feet tapping across the bottom boards. She rowed her boat into the clouds, sensed her black hair freeze and frost settle on her shoulders and ice flakes on her feet. She rowed unmindfully through those clouds and so, when they suddenly parted before her, felt her breath catch at once as the sheer enormity of the world spread out beneath like some impossible carpet. The burning arc of the horizon greeted her and, without meaning to, she stopped rowing, dropped the oar so that it fell plummeting away, and shed liquid tears that sizzled momentarily on her cheeks then melted into air. Her feet leapt here and there, crying out for attention and release. She gulped, breathed, and pressed her jangling arms on her thighs. “No,” she spoke with faltering breath, and the fever in her feet mocked her weakness and burned only brighter.
The boat hung in the heavens for a while as the goddess tried, unconvincingly, to now rebuke and now reason with her feet. But then it began to drift downwards, jerking here and there without the guidance of the oar. It turned now this way and now that, fell suddenly, twisted, righted itself, then swooped down again with such speed that Rosalind’s hair erupted skyward and she could scarcely keep herself from following after it. It dipped, flipped, and plunged forward, then lurched back so that Rosa hurtled to the rear and nearly fell out yet again. This distressful state of affairs continued until - at long last - the boat smashed into the raging sea, bounced once - and only once - turned exactly one-hundred and eighty degrees, then deposited the goddess into the churning waters below.
It should be noted, before anything more is pronounced on the events here relayed, that Rosalind the Feverfoot did not know how to swim. She struggled feebly, her bangles jangling for a few seconds before waves overwhelmed and muffled them. Her great skirt parachuted about her before the wetness settled in and weighed it down. Her feet, however, put up a more valiant display and would have kept the goddess above the waves were her arms and upper body equally adept at kicking with such purpose and constancy. They were not, and instead gave way to the batterings of the waves so that the only thing her feet did was propel her more forcefully into the deep.
For a moment that stretched on into forever, she sank slowly through the water and observed - as though from a distance of great miles - the waterworld about her. Light danced with the laughing water, shimmering with elusive lustres before skipping swiftly here, dancing swiftly there, then blinking again elsewhere. Wherever she cast her vision, it landed on pure motion, on untiring dance and passionate cadence. The world above was not made for dance, this here was the primeval wellspring and eternal abode of pure movement. But it was not this dance alone that, in that moment, captured the passions and fevers of Rosalind the Feverfoot; there was sound. It was a beating song that managed to be everywhere at once without shaking the waters or overpowering the senses - it was not so much heard as felt and it was not so much felt as lived. It was a great and perfect harmony of sound and motion, and the sound was something like mmahm, mmahng. mmahm, mmahng. mmahm, mmahm, mmahm, mmahm, mmahm, mmahm…
That could very well have been where the tale of Rosalind the Feverfoot ended - and she would likely have not wanted for a better end - but such moments, it seems, and perhaps all moments (as only Iqelis with certainty knew) were ever fated to termination. And so it was under those very circumstances that Rosalind the Feverfoot was to become acquainted with Ao-Yurin the Seabringer.
It came churning and raging through the waters, and Rosa watched it come, even as she continued to sink, with unveiled and wide-eyed terror. “CONNIVING. UNGRATEFUL. MEDDLING. MY WATERS.” The god seethed and foamed, salt spraying through the water as its form whirlpooled about the helpless Rosalind and flung her hither and thither like some wet ragdoll. She opened her mouth to cry out - in protest, or perhaps in fear - but she found that water immediately flooded in. Bubbles streaming in every direction were the only sign of her silent scream. “YOU VANDALS! INTERLOPERS! YOU COME UNINVITED - YOU SULLY MY PURITY. DID YOU THINK MY FURY TRIFLING? DID YOU THINK I WOULD NOT BE REVENGED?” The sea boiled and raged around the apoplectic water god and Rosalind’s salt tears flitted away, congealed, twirled and exploded into dance and life.
Dancing Tears of the Gods: The Dancerfish
It was then, when Ao-Yurin had reached the great zenith of rage and was braced to deliver its sister into the desolation of death, that the voice of the Monarch of All gave it pause and both predator and prey listened to the praise and rewards doled out to Voligan. A few silent moments passed afterwards, and the water god bubbled and simmered quietly. Its breath - if water could breathe - came seething and rasping, and it churned all about the goddess and raved madly and fumed. “Voligan,” it spat, more salt pouring from its mouth, “VOLIGAN. THAT DEFILER! THAT DESPOILER! THAT RAPIST! Yes, yes, his rape of the waterworld is not forgotten. IS NOT FORGIVEN. I will be avenged, Voligan - the thirst of the continents you have raised will be slaked ON YOUR BLOOD!”
Whether Voligan heard the raving water god, or whether he heard the terror stricken Rosalind, cannot be ascertained. It remains the fact, however, that Rosalind was at that moment begging and imploring for someone, anyone - “help me, Voligan the Earthheart, you’re my only hope.” Whatever the case, Voligan the Earthheart heard, and Voligan the Earthheart answered.
With a loud crash, Voligan’s titanic form landed in the ocean beside the pair of struggling gods. His massive hand shot forth, moving faster by far than a being his size had any right to be moving, and grabbed Rosalind from the enraged whirlpool firmly but with surprising gentleness, so as not to cause pain. He placed the dazed Feverfoot on his shoulder, his chuckles thundering through the air. “You always seem to find trouble, Goddess of Dance.”
He turned his attention back to the roiling god of the seas, tilting his head slightly. Now this didn’t make any sense. “The Monarch said you were dying in the palace. How are you-” His question was interrupted as Ao-Yurin surged out of the water, throwing itself into his chest and face. Voligan stumbled back, struggling to keep his feet. The earth around Rosa erupted and shielded her from the wrath of the sea, as the Earthheart’s fist came up and crashed into Ao-Yurin, throwing the maddened god backwards. Voligan was surprised. The god of water shouldn’t have been that solid, and yet he felt his fist connect firmly. Looking down, he saw why.
A layer of salt covered his fist, no doubt from Sala’s accidental poisoning of the god. He looked over at the still stunned water god, and saw immediately that it was not complete. Salt was beginning to spread along its body as it struggled to maintain form, and there was no freshwater to be seen. It was clearly not the water god. It was only a twisted remnant, dying of separation and poisoning. “You are not Ao-Yurin.” Voligan sighed, voice grating like great boulders one against the other.
The maddened god-thing snarled in reply, doubling over as it vomited more salt up. Voligan rumbled again, advancing as he created an island and placed Rosa down on it. “You cannot win, false-god. You are dying, and no match for me. Yield, and be at peace in the end.” The sea raged in defiance, massive waves rising up and battering against Voligan, as Ao-Yurin threw itself at the Earth god. This time, he would not be caught off guard. Voligan caught the remnants of the sea god by the throat and punched it twice in rapid succession, salt flying as the blows landed. “Yield..”
The remnant of Ao-Yurin hissed, storm clouds gathering as its fury mounted, and thrashed against Voligan. It was rapidly losing strength, however, and Voligan’s grip remained firm even as more salt poured from the water god’s mouth and its body crystalized. It snarled again, trying to speak, only to be silenced by yet another blow from Voligan. The salt had almost completely taken over its body. “It is over. You are not Ao-Yurin. You are but a crystallized, broken, remnant. An insult to their memory.” Voligan pushed it down into the water. “You are a mistake.” Farther down, down into the depths. “One that I will rectify.” There was a bubbled scream, followed by a dull shattering sound. Voligan stood back to his full height, and turned to make sure that Rosa was okay.
The storm and raging seas Ao-Yurin had created remained and, Voligan suspected, would remain for a long time yet. He made his way through the raging seas towards Rosa, crouching down so as to not be so far away. The comparatively minuscule goddess looked up with startled eyes, from where she was sat huddled against the seething sea and storming sky, as he emerged, bent down, and spoke. “Are you okay, little Feverfoot? My name is Voligan, as you seem to already know. What is yours?”
She peeled her wet strands of night-black curls from her face and shivered slightly, her layers of clothing adhering to her form. “I’m Rosalind.” She said quickly, her voice trembling - whether out of the cold or from fear it was not clear. “I thank you, Voligan Earthheart, and I beg your forgiveness for laying my woes onto you. It is as you say, I am only trouble.” She looked down dolefully. “I must have upset that Ao-Yurin very much to cause such a fit of rage.” She sniffled and pearly droplets sprang from her eyes and danced across her wet, pallid cheeks, which she rubbed away with the palm of her hand. “I hope you weren’t hurt? And I hope you weren’t forced to hurt for me?”
“No, no. You’re no trouble, and Ao-Yurin’s wrath wasn’t your fault. Our sister Sala, Goddess of Salt, inadvertently poisoned them. What I fought was the remnant of their personalities, clinging to life in a way that it should not have. No hurt was caused by you or me. I was merely… hastening what was inevitable as painlessly as possible.” Voligan looked around at the raging seas and storm. “Your boat won’t be able to handle this, I’m afraid. I do not know how long the seas will obey our sibling’s last rage and I’m not going to leave you here on a lonely island. We may need to make a bridge.”
Rosa got up on unsteady feet and cast her eyes across the endlessly dancing waves - not a joyous or serene dance, but one that shook to Ao-Yurin’s rage. “I don’t know anything about building things… but if you raise another island for me then perhaps I can jump from here and all the way out of the sea. Like…” she paused and there was the hint of a smile on her face, “like jumping stones.” The goddess, shaking with her feet, looked to Voligan. “If that wouldn’t be too much trouble for you?”
“It won’t be any trouble at all. I will get you across the raging sea.” Voligan strode a couple of steps towards Terminus, raising his hands. The sea bubbled and shook as another island burst through the waves and he waved Rosa over, then strode another two steps towards the coast and did the same. The process was repeated as they made their way towards the relative safety of land. “What brings you down to the earth, Rosa? Do you intend to fill it with life as our siblings have? Or perhaps interact with what they have created instead?”
As the goddess leapt from island to island, the small land masses did not merely melt away behind her but seemed to bob up and down, now under the waves and now above. Her feet left them feverish even as she leapt away after Voligan from isle to isle. “Oh I am not like you and the others - not like Yudaiel, who made the moon, or like you who bested Ao-Yurin and raised the earth. I don’t know how to do all that. I am just going to get my fever cured. I saw when I was sleeping a great blanket of coldness, a carpet of white on Galbar’s head. I think maybe I’ll find a cure there.” She said as she leapt. Eventually they reached the easternmost continent, which Rosa had seen while rowing down through the skies. She glanced behind her at the drifting isles Voligan had raised for her then smiled up at the giant as she sat herself down on a small boulder and breathed. “Thank you, Voligan. I don’t know what would have become of me if you didn’t come.” She paused for a few seconds. “And what about you? What do you intend to do? You seem to have pleased that...” she swallowed and looked skyward in fear, then whispered, “the Monarch,” she held her breath and sat wide-eyed for a few seconds, as though expecting him to appear any moment, but when he did not, she continued normally, “so you seem to be doing everything right.”
Voligan crouched down again, so as to converse better with the Feverfoot. “Hmm. We will see how long it lasts. Our creator seems to be the fickle sort, with a short temper. Doing things right seems to be more akin to staying quiet and doing as he demands. I managed that, and I suspect you will be able to as well now that he’s helped bring your feet to a manageable level. Together we’ll do our best to keep out of his eyesight.” Rosalind looked down at her shivering feet with doubt, but nodded quiescently.
The moment of silence and stillness did not last long; Voligan stood abruptly from his crouched position, looking behind Rosa. Someone was approaching at a very rapid pace.
In an instant, Voligan sank into the earth and reappeared behind the dance goddess, blocking the path of the approaching god. “More trouble, little Feverfoot.” He murmured, his voice reminiscent of a landslide.
Aletheseus, god of Fortitude, came to a stop before Voligan. “Voligan. Step aside.”
The earth god shook his head at Aletheseus. “Why are you here, Aletheseus?”
“She is a danger to Galbar. One that needs to be addressed.” Aletheseus attempted to move past Voligan, only to be halted by a massive hand. Behind them, Rosalind the Feverfoot swallowed nervously and rose to her trembling feet.
“The Monarch already helped her.” Voligan insisted.
The god of fortitude looked up at Voligan, his impassive face revealing no emotion. “It is only a temporary countermeasure.”
Voligan’s voice rumbled with displeasure. “And what is your solution?”
“I’m going to destroy her before she destroys the planet. It is the only way.” The god of fortitude said simply, eliciting a gasp from the tiny Feverfoot.
Voligan shook his head again at this, still holding up a hand before the other god. “The Monarch already saved the planet. Her bangles make her power manageable.”
“He saved the universe,” Aletheseus corrected, “Not the planet. If she were to lose control again I’ve no doubt she’d kill most of the burgeoning mortal life if not Galbar itself. But the palace and the world at large would be spared, yes. Not what we’ve created and need to protect. I’m sorry, Voligan but this must be done.” With that, Aletheseus attempted to dart past the Earthheart and reach Rosa, who jerked backwards and fell in a heap. Aletheseus was not quite quick enough, however, for he was knocked back by a massive earthen fist moving, once more, faster than its sheer size should have allowed. Aletheseus went skipping across the ground and off into the distance. Behind Voligan and Rosa, another island rose. “Jump, little Feverfoot. I will not be long.”
Pulling herself to her feet, Rosalind tumbled, half tripped and half leapt from the shore, landing awkwardly on the new isle. Another island rose in the dark mists ahead as she landed, and the Feverfoot heaved herself to her furiously quavering feet and made another jump even as the world behind her exploded and gods clashed. Now Aletheseus’ two great hands shattered the world above and almost closed upon her, or his face encompassed the heavens and his voice beat against her - “you cannot hide, Dancer of the World’s End,” - before the Earthheart unfailingly appeared and sent him flying in a great implosion of light and sound. They flashed in air, on water - land rose to be vaporised, boulders cannoned from the water - and even as Rosalind the Feverfoot leapt through the chaos of war it seemed, for a long while, that a great harmony fell upon everything. Her feet rustled against the sands of isles brought up for her by Voligan, and the Earthheart’s great earthen constructs rose dancing rhythmically, in great synchrony, slowly and methodically; even the terrible and untiring Aletheseus seemed to flow with the cadence of the rumbling war dance.
Then Rosalind the Feverfoot leapt, her bangles jangled louder than before and seemed to capture pure fevered motion, so that the great building synchrony fell apart at once. The method of the dance faded and chaos erupted more furiously than before. Gods warred and Feverfoot ran, ran, ran.
There were no more words between Fortitude and Earth as they grappled with each other. Aletheseus’ true form at times swirled around Voligan’s strikes like smoke and at others struck like an avalanche when Voligan was on the defensive. He destroyed the Earthheart’s islands whenever he could, sending massive chunks of rock and dirt into the air. Voligan himself was beginning to grow frustrated. Whenever he landed a strong blow on Aletheseus, strikes the likes of which could destroy mountains and sink islands, the Peculiar God bounced back as if he had not been struck at all.
Meanwhile, Voligan was beginning to flag, the lengthy battle eroding his form and strength. Chunks of his massive body were already missing, and with each strike from Aletheseus more of him fell away. It did not help that the sea remembered the hatred that the remnant of Ao-Yurin had borne him, and so fought against him at every turn. When Aletheseus was knocked into the water, it spat him back out into the fight. When Voligan stumbled deeper in, it dragged and swirled around him. It offset his balance and attempted to blind him with massive waves.
Still, he kept Aletheseus back from the fleeing Rosa and gradually created more and more islands for her to jump upon.
Finally, as Rosa reached the other continent and touched down, he sent Aletheseus skipping across the sea and turned to her. His voice was ragged, like rock being ground to dust, filled with barely controlled anger. “Run, little Feverfoot. I will be right-” with a thunderous crack, the ‘Kind One’ struck Voligan’s head with his full force. Boulders and various pieces of earth crashed into the earth around Rosa. Voligan’s titanic form swayed, stumbled, and then collapsed like a worn and battered cliff into the cackling ocean. The waves closed around him and flicked gleefully as cascades of water pulled him eagerly into the depths. Rosalind beheld it with wide wet eyes, the tears frozen and refusing to fall. She seemed to have become ice, unmoving but for her jittering feet and trembling hands.
Aletheseus turned to face her, breathing heavily. Despite his seemingly unending stamina, the effects of the fight were clear on him as well. His fine cloak was ripped and torn, his smoky body struggling to stay together, and his mask dented. “It is over, Rosalind of the Dance. I am truly sorry.” He landed softly on the ground and strode towards her.
“You…” she mouthed, though it was hardly legible, “you killed him.” She did not look up as he approached, but crumpled to her knees before him. “I’m sorry,” it was a low sob, “I’m sorry Voligan.” She placed her face in her hands and stayed there. In that moment she thought that perhaps this was for the best, for death cured all things - even the fevered feet that shook even now beneath her.
But then the ground shook with tremors and Rosalind looked up with a small ‘oh.’ Aletheseus, too, paused to look around as the tremors grew worse and worse. The ground beneath his feet cracked and then broke like ice, dragging the God of Fortitude down to his waist. It solidified around him painfully, shards of rock erupting to keep him in his place. As the tremors grew more and more violent, a single word could be heard. Felt, through their very bones. It sent a great sliver of fear through the cowardly Rosalind, even as it caused hope to erupt all at once.
“Enough.”
The earth violently sucked Aletheseus back into the ground as the dirt beneath Rosa shifted and drew her away from the trapped Black Sheep at a rapid pace. A few moments later, the ground where she had been standing erupted with rock and magma as a volcano rose into the sky. Trapped in its peak was Aletheseus. When the volcano reached its full height, it erupted with earth-shaking violence. The god of Fortitude was thrown high into the sky. Before he could react or begin to fall, a massive earthen hand that glowed with the heat of the lava rose and struck the Peculiar God with such force that he disappeared over the horizon.
Voligan wasted no time speaking to Rosa, he simply followed. He was there as soon as Aletheseus landed, and the earth shook with his fury. The ground around the god of Fortitude bubbled with molten metals as they answered Voligan’s wrath and rose to attack and bind the Black Sheep. Crude metal blades stabbed at him while chains wrapped around his body and pulled him deeper into the ground. Voligan’s fist, still glowing with the heat of the volcano, crashed into Aletheseus’ prone form. Another fist followed.
“It’s over.”
The earth shook with another blow.
“You’ve lost.”
Massive boulders rose behind the Earthheart’s form, following each fist into the prone form.
“You failed.”
A crater began to form as the blows descended one after the other. Voligan rained down his wrath with a now silent fury, burying and crushing Aletheseus into the ground. He was so angry that he did not hear the Black Sheep at first, his words lost behind a haze of red and the thundering of blows. Finally, the words made their way through the cacophony of violence.
“I yield.”
Voligan paused, lava finally cooling on his body. Aletheseus dug himself from the rubble-filled crater, battered and bleeding. “I yield. I have no desire to die. You win, Great Bearer of Lands. Her actions are on your head; do not come to me when she brings destruction to your doorstep.”
Before Voligan could respond, however, the vanquished god staggered, reeling in pain and surprise, as a hand of jagged black crystal burst out from his chest. In an instant, nay, a blink of time cut with the finest of blades, the shadow cast by his ragged form seemed to have coalesced into a looming presence of hard contours and impiteous edges, a grim silhouette that now stared down at Aletheseus with a baleful gleam in its one eye, even as he writhed on the arm that had run him through like a lance from the back.
“Did you think that you could escape your end with your sickening mewling? That you could persevere through your defeat and continue to plague the world with your false hope?” taunted Iqelis, for indeed it was none other than him, no doubt having ridden the swiftest currents of time to seize this serendipitous moment, “This is the delusion you were born to perpetuate, is it not? That all calamity is temporary, and that demise is but a prelude to rebirth? Feel, then, on your own flesh how wrong you were, and let your folly accompany you into oblivion!”
Time appeared to slow to a crawl, every motion heavy and feeble, as Aletheseus struggled still with the last reserves of his unyielding resilience. But then dark claws blossomed around him like a thorny halo, and in a blur they tore his visage and his flanks to shreds of metal, fabric and azure mist. Only when his mangled body slumped to the ground did the flow of moments regain its pace, and where two gods had stood now only one cast a triumphant shadow over a lifeless husk.
Voligan tilted his head at the body of Aletheseus, as if comprehending what had happened, before turning his gaze upon the god of Doom. “The Monarch will not be pleased you have done this. He was barely forgiving of Sala’s poisoning of Ao-Yurin. This outright murder will anger him greatly. And you have angered Yudaiel and Ruina. That is a high amount of conflict in a short amount of time, Lord of the End.”
Voligan knelt and gathered Aletheseus’ remains in one hand. The Monarch would wish to have the shard returned.“I hope you have a plan, for your own sake.”
“Even gods have their fated ends,” Iqelis spread a wheel of eight arms as if to shrug, “Surely the Monarch is wise enough to know that. Would you begrudge me this little correction, if you were him? I am the attendant of the inevitable, and it is only the vain and the shortsighted who balk at the demands of my station. They will realize their error in time, either on their own terms or on mine.”
He waved a hand at Aletheseus’ limp body to underscore the last word.
“Besides, a world that suffered existential contradictions such as this one’s life would be flawed. I am merely letting the Flow wear away the uglier angles of creation.”
“Trusting the Monarch or other gods to be reasonable is not a good plan. Tread carefully. You may find yourself dragged to your own inevitable end if you anger the Monarch or too many of our siblings.”
As the blood from Aletheseus’ body dripped from Voligan’s hand, the ground around them began to rumble and shake. Voligan looked and saw small mounds beginning to rise all around them. The beginning of mountains, and perhaps more. “Aletheseus’ last will, it seems, is taking place here.” He carefully dug a deep grave and placed Aletheseus’ body in it. The shard and the mask stayed in Voligan’s hand. The Monarch would want one, and the other would be proof of death. The unmarked grave completed, Voligan turned once more to Iqelis. “Leave. I am going back to Rosa, and I am sure you have more plans beyond murder and chatting with me. Besides, who knows how the remaining power of a god you murdered might react to your presence. Good luck, Iqelis.”
The One God raised two hands in a noncommittal farewell and flitted away into the distance, fading to a blur on the horizon.
With that Voligan headed back towards Rosa, landing on the coast across from her. On seeing him, the huddled goddess rose and approached on uncertain feet. “Are you okay, little Feverfoot? Many of my jumping islands for you were not as strong as they should have been. For that, I apologize.”
“You have nothing to apologise for,” she peeped, her eyes scouring the skies and stormy seas in fear. Only after a long moment had passed did her eyes fall, at last, on the mask in Voligan’s hand. Her eyes of twilight widened, and she surrendered a small almost-sough. “Is that…” she swallowed, “is that his face?” She seemed to brace herself and then forced her eyes to rise and meet those of the battered and beaten Earthheart. There was no denying it this time: he had been greatly hurt, and had been forced to commit a terrible crime for her. Tears welled unbidden and her body trembled, and she could find no words for the guilt that wracked her except that empty phrase - “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It is his mask. I believe Aletheseus did not have a face to begin with. I did not kill him, though I admit I almost did in my fury. Iqelis, the God of Doom, appeared at the last moment after Aletheseus had yielded and struck him down. Something about his existence being a contradiction. Iqelis was not entirely successful in eradicating fortitude, however. Aletheseus’ blood and last vestiges of power are creating a massive mountain range where he fell. Life along with it, I suspect. I will have to go back there to see what exactly has been made, but you are safe for now, little Feverfoot.”
Voligan carefully placed the mask onto his body and absorbed it for safekeeping. “You have nothing to apologize for little Dancer. I could not let that thing that was Ao-Yurin and Aletheseus simply attack you. You have done nothing wrong.” He paused, looking to the far north and the stormy seas. “You mentioned heading to the north. Would you like me to go with you, at least until you arrive there?”
Rosalind shook her head. “You have done more for me than I can hope to repay, I can ask nothing more. I think I will sit here a little while and just…” she sighed, “try to recover.” She paused and watched the raging sea. “And perhaps whatever remains of Ao-Yurin will be kind and return my boat to me.” She stood and took off a single golden-red bangle, etched with beautiful swirls and studded with innumerable jewels of starlight. “I have nothing to thank you with, but take this. It would make me happy - whatever comes of me, for I seemed cursed with awful luck! - if you see it and remember me well.”
“Very well. Do not hesitate to call for me again if you ever need help.” Voligan reached down and gently took the golden-red bangle from her. “I will keep it with me at all times.” He held out a finger towards Rosalind. The tip of it, composed of dirt, rustled and rumbled for a moment before a fist sized moonstone dropped into her palms. It was polished and gleaming, seeming to glow with an inner light. “Please keep this with you as well. As a gift.”
He stood to his full height and looked back over to where Aletheseus had fallen. “I must go now. Be well, Rosa. Do not hesitate to call for help should you need it again.” With that, he began to stride off into the distance and rapidly disappeared over the horizon.
Starting: Voligan- 18. Spent 2 to make the islands connecting the continents. 16 remaining. Rosa- 14. Spent 2 to make the islands connecting the continents dance in various ways (the northern islands move around in the water in a set rhythm, while the southern islands sink beneath and rise above the waves seasonally, though each island follows an independent seasonal pattern from the others). Spent 1 to create Dancerfish, fish that emerged out of Rosa’s tears; these have wing-like fins and can either be find in great groups that murmurate through the water, their scales reflecting refracted right off one another create kaleidoscopic pulsations of colour even as they individual dance and, in so doing, create a greater cadence as a group. These dances, whether solitary or in a group, appear to have meaning understood by the Dancerfish. 11 left. Iqelis: 16. Spent 0.
Rosalind lands on Galbar’s ocean with her boat. This angers the remnant of Ao-Yurin (the salt personality, specifically) and it attacks Rosalind in a maddened, salt poisoned rage. Rosa calls for help.
Voligan, having left the witnessing of the Monarch and Sala, comes to her aid. He fights the remnant, killing it pretty easily since the freshwater personality of Ao-Yurin dying in the Palace had all the divine power.
Rosa and Voligan chat and Voligan agrees to make islands for Rosa to jump on to the next continent. Since the remnant still had influence over the sea, the seas were too wrathful for her to simply use her boat.
They reach the continent of Termina and have another brief chat before Voligan notices Aletheseus approaching at high speeds and steps in front of Rosa.
Aletheseus claims that Rosa has to be killed for the greater good. Voligan disagrees. They fight with Voligan attempting to create islands for Rosalind to jump on and run away from Aletheseus with.
Once they get back to the utmost north of Orsus, Voligan turns briefly to talk to Rosalind. Aletheseus takes this opportunity to smack the shit out of him and knock Voligan into and beneath the sea for a moment.
Before Aletheseus can capitalize and kill Rosa, Voligan comes back. Officially pissed off now, he smacks Aletheseus so hard that the god of Fortitude lands on the far side of Termina and then proceeds to pummel him until Aletheseus yields.
Voligan stops in his assault, content that Aletheseus yielded. Iqelis uses the opportunity to straight up murder Aletheseus. Iqelis and Voligan chat about it a bit, then go their separate ways.
Voligan (now beat to shit and tired) goes back to Rosalind (who is now feeling guilty and tired) and makes sure she’s okay. They exchange gifts, and Voligan tells her to not hesitate to call him for help again. They then go their separate ways.
"What happened? I'll tell you what happened while you were sleeping the night away. Some fucking monster kicked in the door to the room next to where the women were staying, and then proceeded to try to murder everyone it saw. Then the shirtless guy punched it to death in the middle of the streets. I don't know who was sleeping in the room, or if they're still alive. We're fortunate to be alive ourselves, given that it looked like a fucking nightmare given life and seemed to take quite the beating."
Faeril made his way towards the table with the two of them, crossbow still at hand. He looked even grumpier than normal, having not gone back to sleep after fighting the demon, then soothing the owner of the inn, and then settling down with his crossbow and his paranoia to keep him company. He didn't know where the demon came from, but he wasn't willing to bet that the bouncer to the inn had killed it or that there were not any others coming behind it to finish the job. So he had waited quietly in his room for any sound that would indicate someone was coming for them again.
It was a quiet night, much to Faeril's relief. Still, it did nothing to improve his mood or temperment.
He spoke between bites of the food, grunting in thanks at Isolde. "Now, apparently, there's a string of mauled corpses that conviently lead to us. That just happens to be showing up the same night a demon tries to kill us. I'm not one for coincidences personally, so I think we should figure out who was in that room and why they were being attacked by that disgusting thing." Looking around, he spotted Beren and Emmaline. He didn't know what the shirtless man's name was, but that wasn't particularly important as he yelled across the tavern.
"Bouncer! Who was in the room that that thing attacked first? And are they still breathing?"
Right! I'll have a post from Faeril up today or tomorrow. He's definitely gonna want to talk about everything that happened last night. Since a giant demon attacking the group seems fairly important
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Auz
Lord Zee
