Liute had spent the time taking in all his surroundings, the aspects here or there, the world itself and all the plants therein. He listened to birdsong in the distance, the differences in warnings and greetings, the differences in warbles between each creature. He listened to the scrambling of creatures in the greater distance. He felt the tree-bark with fingertips, and the knotted tree, and the light leaf. He felt the foliage all underneath. The god smelled each plant, too, and though he knew none of their names - nor that whatever had so created them had even given them names - he knew that each had a different smell, a different type. There was so much life there, so much to keep and know and create, and in this small way, the god felt fulfilled. Some small part of him knew that the whole of the world had not seen such detail before, not known such little aspects as Liute could see now. It was curious, so very curious.
And so, when the greater bird came down to dispense a mortal being, Liute was listening, and knew. He stared, hands clasped before him as the flap of its wings caused his cloak to flap about him, and listened to her words. Clearly, this pair had been sent by the godsblood he wished to counsel with, and clearly that godsblood acted through others.
The greater bird hovered over the ground long enough to drop the young woman onto the ground, then landed and started preening its feathers. The woman, on the other hand, groaned and wobbled as she did her best to get up. Her hair was disheveled and knotted, her gown of leaves and vines and obsidian was damaged in some places and just gone in others, in general she looked like she’d been through an entire typhoon.
It took her some moments and a few ungraceful sounds, but eventually she found her feet and had fixed her appearance enough to stand before Liute.
“I am Sirele of the Boulder, Tongue of Saries, Mother of All. Know that she speaks through me, and through me you may speak to her.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest and bowed her head slightly. “Saries feels curious about you, you smell new but call for her still. Why? You’ve created a beautiful thing, this Sun has revealed the beauty of Saries’ Progeny, so she wants to be your friend.”
With that said, Sirele approached the Tormenta and removed a roughly hewn bag from its chest, the bag wriggled slightly, but Sirele held it tight and close to her own chest regardless.
“So, would you accept a gift from her?”
That there was a gift was…curious, curious enough. When he spoke, though, some part of his mind gave leave for that mask to drop. His words were laced with fire, crackling with each pause. Sirele held her breath and clutched the bag protectively.
“I am Liute. I am the Sun.” He looked up at the great foliage above, the leaves and the canopy, the great green where his glory shone through them to cast dim light below, and considered. That godsblood wished to be his friend. They wished to give a gift, of something of life which was theirs to grant, and it seemed as though it was genuine. “In the name of kinship with this godsblood Saries, I would accept that gift. But there is work to be done, speaker. My creation has been bloody. I desire…correction. I seek the godsblood Saries’s help in this.”
“Correction!” Sirele laughed, but was quick to gasp and hold her tongue, “Sorry about that – Saries, well, she doesn’t believe that any correction is necessary. The current state of things may be unnatural and undesired but Life will adapt as it always does.” The greater Tormenta waddled up to Sirele’s side and bumped her slightly with its head, prompting her to pet it. “Sarai here is an example of that.”
Liute cocked his head at this response, eyes narrowing. There seemed to be a great misunderstanding, that the correction was in the sole benefit for nature itself, yet then…yet then the godsblood was of nature. It made sense that the concern would center around that. And yet, he held his tongue about the issue. It seemed that the speaker did not speak, in some way, solely by the authority of the godsblood. Curious, curious. He waited, watched, hands still clasped before him.
After a moment, Sirele stopped petting Sarai and turned fully towards Liute. She took as many steps as she needed to get within arm’s reach of him, and removed whatever was inside the bag from it.
It was a pup, curled up into itself and no bigger than a coconut. It had thick, soft, blond fur that shone very faintly of starlight – or perhaps sunlight – and a troubled expression on its face. It had its eyes closed, and yet it frowned and tossed and turned in Sirele’s arms. She looked at it like one would look at one’s own child, she stroked its tiny head and played a little with its ears, and the pup calmed down.
Then, she extended her arms to offer the pup to Liute.
“This is one of Saries’ newborns. This is the reason she hasn’t come here herself, she is busy caring for the others. This one came out looking like sunshine, so Jiva convinced her that it was a sign it must be cared for by you.”
The view of that pup lit a fire in Liute’s heart, and a smile grew against his face. This was the gift, a descendent of another godsblood, given by the merest of fates for it searched for the sun. It had been drawn to him, and in that, fate had indeed spoken. He took the pup in his own arms, gingerly with both at first, before the urge grew against him. The god stroked it, about the head and about the ears, and the smile continued. His voice yet crackled with the embers of a fire.
“This…this is a worthy gift. One to be cherished. This one searched for me, and it should know me.” He could feel the power in his arms, in his hands, and the thought grew against him. Liute knew that this…these would be his, his chosen sign, and as the pup looked up with him the god began that imbuement. He knew that the sun was no place for any mortal creature, any normal creature, and yet the idea still grew against him. There was much that could be done, against the whole of the thing. He gave that gift, of strength from the sun, of the greatest immunity from its heat, that it might play against the sun’s surface, and as the fire began to crackle about his hair and singe against his grass cloak, the pup’s fur turned golden.
Absentmindedly, Liute ran a hand along the pup’s muzzle, scratching behind the ear, as he looked back up to the speaker. There was still the issue with which he had first approached the forest, and this issue would not be tolerated. Not in Liute’s mind. “Yet, there is work to be done. Nature may yet wait, and grow slowly, and be used to my hand. The mortals will not be so lucky. I yet seek to lessen that disaster.”
Sirele stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her chest once more. She looked up at the canopies and, after a moment, spoke. “I think that would be good, yes. I am one of the Blessed, so I don’t suffer the pollen or the diseases as much as the others, but… Yes, I think it will be good to ‘correct’ things, as the Sun has said. What kind of help do you want from Saries?”
The god cocked his head, as the pup curled up within his arms. The pollen. This was a problem he had not known of before. And yet, it seemed like such a thing was beyond his issuance. It would need to be corrected by another. He kept his eyes on the speaker, as he crackled out words. “I wish the godsblood’s help, that the plants may yet thrive against me, and not burn away. That the crops some have made will not die, unused to as they are against me. I would give what help I can in this task.”
Sirele blinked, then crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and tapped her chin with a thumb. “Um, the issue seems to be the strength of the light? And the days are very long too. Maybe things could be fixed by moving the Sun further away for some time? The mundane things cannot survive the presence of the great Sun for long, so perhaps limiting its closest approach to a few weeks at a time might be good.”
Sirele played with one of the tight curls framing her face, stretching it and letting it bounce back into shape over and over. “Saries has no ideas to offer here, she seems content because of the explosion of life. But I see your point.”
Liute kept that pose, though his hand had been stilled in petting the pup. That the godsblood was unwilling to provide aid was poor, though the speaker seemed to provide a good enough solution to the issue itself. Perhaps that was the solution to the whole of it. Perhaps, perhaps. It was something which deserved reward of its own, at the very least, as a concept. What was there to give, that the god had about him? He thought on the thing.
“That may be, speaker. Thank you.” One hand reached for a strand of grass about his cloak, and Liute plucked it away. Considering the piece for a moment, for it was indeed the light of the sun remade into a form suitable for the mortal, for the mortal world, he thought better than to hand such a thing away. It would be a poor gift, that which may burst away in the midst of the forest of all that life. That he had nothing to give in return was a poor thing, a poor thing indeed, and Liute frowned. The pup had stirred again, and looked about before reaching out to bite at the not-grass. As it chewed away, Liute frowned still. “I am sorry, speaker, but I have no gift for such a thought. But, yet…thank you.”
Sirele smiled a lopsided smile, “I don’t need a gift now, but well… I will one day have children of my own, and they will have children, and on and on. So I want to ask you to bless them. Please make it so that you will grace them with your light when they need it the most. Let it lead them out of dark places and into safe places, and give them warmth when they are cold and let them see when you are asleep.”
The god looked down again at the pup, considering the rather…extensive request. It was something he knew might grow into more, truly more…and that was a thought. As the farmers planted, that they might have a crop in that seen future, this was a thought that could be applied thus. Perhaps. “There is always a path, Sirele of the Boulder. Know that your children, and their children, shall find that path when most needed. Let them know my warmth when they most need it. Let them know, even when I sleep. Yet, I ask this, Sirele of the Boulder. Let them know me, and not forget me, even alongside the godsblood Saries.”
“I will make sure they know you and that they know you are the Sun. The people of the Boulder do not forget their friends.” Sirele nodded and placed a hand on Sarai the Tormenta. “Now, Sarai will take me home to Saries, but you should know that I and Sarai are marked by her. You should be familiar with that mark by now, so it should be easy to track us down if you need to speak to us again. You are welcome to visit any time, as long as you allow Saries to see her child when you do so. She acts tough, but a mother’s a mother.”
“Agreed, Sirele of the Boulder. Go well.” And, with that, the god disappeared.
Liute explores the forest and studies its creatures until a great bird arrives carrying Sirele, one of Saries’ Tongues. She offers him one of Saries’ newborn pups as a gift of friendship, explaining that Saries cannot come because she is caring for her other newborns. Liute accepts the pup, blesses it with the power to withstand the Sun, and then asks for help fixing the harm his light has caused to plants and mortals. Sirele suggests moving the Sun farther away at times, since Saries has no strong opinion on the matter. Liute has no gift to repay her idea, so Sirele instead asks him to bless her future descendants so they may find light and safety when they need it. He agrees, asking only that they remember him. Sirele departs on the great bird, and Liute leaves as well.
Conviction Expenditures: Saries: 0 Conviction spent (Lucid action) to give birth to a litter of pups. These are almost entirely mortal, with the only things they truly inherited from Saries being a faint glow of starlight and good health that makes them resilient to disease and grants them a long life.
Liute: 1 Conviction spent (Hazy action) - Liute imbues a given pup with the power to gain strength from the sun and resist its heat. 0 Conviction spent (Lucid action) - Liuete blesses the descendants of Sirele to have light when needed, resistance to cold, and better vision in the night.
The Sun changed everything for Ganga’s tribe and it was not gentle. Where once they moved cautiously, conserving strength and avoiding needless risks, the sudden blaze of real daylight stirred something restless in them, predatory. The world felt louder, brighter, harder to ignore. Shadows no longer hid threats for long and hunger became an issue faster beneath the heat. The tribe began to hunt not just when they needed to but whenever something crossed their path, beasts, strays or unlucky travelers alike. Survival stopped being quiet and became bloody and immediate.
Plants exploded across the land, choking old paths and birthing new hiding places for prey. Game animals multiplied, then scattered, then grew aggressive themselves. Every hunt became a contest of speed and violence and the tribe adapted quickly. Spears flew faster. Knives were used more freely. The Sun burned overhead like a challenge, pushing them to take more, eat more, move more. Ganga noticed it first, how the people came back from hunts breathing hard, eyes bright, hands shaking with something close to excitement.
Others noticed too and they came. Stragglers, broken families, lone survivors drawn by smoke, noise and the promise of strength in numbers. Ganga did not turn them away. She watched them first, measured how quickly they learned and how eagerly they joined the hunts. Those who hesitated were eaten. Those who adapted stayed, growing the ranks and feeding the appetite that had taken hold of the group.
With more mouths came more pressure. The tribe hunted deeper, longer, stripping areas bare before moving on. Old taboos thinned. Where once there had been rules about restraint, now there were only priorities. Eat first. Rest later. Ganga led from the front, sharp-eyed and faster than most, making sure the violence stayed purposeful. She did not let it turn inward. Not yet. But she felt how close it hovered, waiting for a weaker hand to slip.
At night, beneath a sky now split between blazing days and colder darkness, Ganga listened to her people sleep. They muttered, dreamed, twitched as if still running. The Sun had made them strong, yes but it had also made them restless, hungry for motion and blood. She knew this could not last forever. Aggression was a tool, not a home. Still, as long as the world kept burning so brightly, she would ride the edge of it or be swallowed by it.
On one such night, Ganga called for a halt. The Sun had bled away into the horizon, leaving the land covered in long shadows as even the most restless among them were slowing. The tribe circled up in a shallow rise where the ground was dry and visibility wide, close enough to the treeline for cover but not so close that something could crawl into camp unseen. Fires were kept low, more embers than flame, enough to cook and see hands.
Sentries were placed without argument. Pairs at first, then singles as the night deepened, posted at measured distances around the camp. Those with the sharpest eyes took the outer ring, those with quick legs the inner paths between fires. Weapons stayed close. Sleep came in turns. The tribe did not push through the night. For once, they waited, breathing in the dark and listening to what might try to come for them.
II
Its usual form was too large, too bulky. And so it became smaller, leaner, and darker.
Its glow was never gone, just muted, and every time one of the tainted things came near, it grew.
But it could not let them know it was there, not during the day, not whilst its chosen were near.
And so Saries waited and stalked and watched whilst the Twins and their protector put distance between this ugly place and themselves.
Tonight, they had finally gotten far enough.
These tainted things were armed and kept watch throughout the night, this much Saries knew. They were unnatural even when it came to their sleeping patterns – Not that it would do them much good.
One of them passed by, walked along their dirt path, so Saries slipped into its shadow. The man heard and felt nothing and eventually he arrived at his destination, some sort of guard post on the outskirts of the things’ camp. Another man – who was sitting on a tree stump, drinking some kind of broth out of a bone bowl – perked up and stood up as soon as he saw the approaching man. They both exchanged strange noises, and then the man with the bowl left and the man who unknowingly carried Saries took the spot on the tree stump.
Minutes passed, and no one else came.
Saries could feel it emanating from the man’s beautiful fur coat. The shame and humiliation of its progeny – A mighty leopard, with its jaw broken and left unable to hunt its rightful prey, forced to debase herself just to feed her cubs. Only to be chased and murdered by demons wearing Sarhush’s skin.
The man had been alone one moment. The next, his fire went out. And then a great glow cast his shadow on the ground in front of him.
The realization came slowly – He wasn’t alone anymore.
There was no scream.
When dawn broke and the next shift’s guard appeared, she saw a a campfire painted in crimson. A broken hand was on the tree stump, a foot that had no toes lie half-burned in the now-cold campfire, and a trail of blood led deep into the treeline, marked with pawprints the size of a man’s torso.
She ran.
III
The news reached Ganga just after first light, carried by a runner whose eyes refused to settle on anything for long. Words stumbled over each other. A sentry gone. No struggle worth naming. Just pieces left behind. A hand on a stump. Blood dragged into the trees.
When she asked what did it, the answer came slower, quieter. Paw prints. Not tracks, prints. Each one as wide as a man’s torso, pressed deep enough into the dirt that water had already begun to pool in them.
Ganga went to see it herself. She crouched by the ruined fire, fingers brushing the darkened soil, the smell was wrong. This was not hunger. This was not a beast killing for food or territory. The marks told a different story, deliberate, patient, confident.
Whatever had walked here had not rushed. It had known it would not be challenged. Her gaze followed the trail until the trees swallowed it whole and for the first time in weeks she felt something cold coil in her gut that had nothing to do with fear of starvation.
She straightened slowly, mind already turning. Fangs had vanished in the valley. Now this. Ganga said nothing to the gathered tribe at first, just ordered the camp broken and the dead made food. But the paw print stayed with her.
A predator that didn’t fear a large group of people. It had to die. To be taught a lesson. No one messes with her tribe.
Ganga did not call it a hunt. She called it a precaution. Her voice stayed low as she gathered the elders and the quickest hands, pointing back toward the ruined fire and the crushed earth beyond. Something that large could not be chased, not with what they had and not without losing more people.
If it wanted to stalk them, then they would make the ground itself answer back. A beast that trusted its weight would trust the land beneath it. That trust will be broken.
She chose the place herself, a narrow stretch between trees where the undergrowth thinned and the soil stayed soft even after the sun climbed. The paw prints had passed close by there deeply.
They marked it with stones only she understood the meaning of, then set to work.
Digging began before the sun fully cleared the horizon, hands and crude tools tearing into the earth until sweat darkened skin. The pit had to be wide, wide enough that something massive could not simply step across it, deep enough that climbing out would be hard. Spears came next. Not hunting spears, not meant for throwing but sharpened stakes hardened in fire and hammered into the bottom of the pit at cruel angles. Dozens of them. Enough that weight alone would do the work.
Ganga watched every placement, correcting angles, ordering more when it did not look right. This was not about skill or bravery. It was about inevitability. Fall once and the fight would already be over. If it wasn’t, part two of the plan would commence When the pit was finished, they covered it carefully.
Thin branches laid first, then leaves, then soil brushed back over the top until it looked untouched. Too untouched. Ganga kicked dirt across it herself, scuffed footprints nearby, broke branches on purpose.
A trap that looked perfect was a trap that failed. It had to look like nothing at all. As the work ended, tension crept through the camp. Some sharpened tools that would do nothing against the owner of the paw prints that size. Ganga let it happen. Fear kept people sharp. False comfort got them killed.
She reminded them only of one thing. No fires near the trap. No wandering at night. If the creature came, it would come on its own terms.
That night, Ganga sat awake longer than most, eyes on the dark line of trees. She did not feel triumph. Only pressure. Whatever had torn a sentry apart without a sound was not some mindless animal blundering into death.
If it fell into the pit, good. If it did not, then this would have taught it something else instead. Either way, the ground had been set and the next move would the creature’s.
IV
Even in the midst of the hunt, there were still smaller – but not lesser – duties to attend to.
In the face of the unnatural, it fell upon Saries to make things right. Not by simply willing challenges away, no, that was not its style – but by physically comforting and helping those who needed it.
By carrying the orphaned to new parents or easier lands. By bringing food and water to the sick. By sharing warmth with the scared.
It had been carrying out such a duty – three malnourished cubs had been riding on its head – when it stepped onto hollow ground.
Like the sound of thunder, the ground gave way and Saries fell. Sharpened stakes stabbed into its flesh as it fell, and by the time it found itself on all four paws at the bottom of the pit, it had at least a dozen stakes stuck deep into its body. Some went entirely through its paws, others stabbed into its legs in awkward angles, and some were long enough to actually go into its gut and chest.
It burned. Not just because of the pain – poison had been smeared onto some of the stakes.
Saries flinched – A spark of sharp pain came from its right ear, where one of the cubs was biting onto its ear for dear life. The others bit onto fur or tougher skin, but this one must have seen it fit to grab onto the biggest thing around.
As uncomfortable as the stakes were, they were no issue. Saries’ bloodflow slowed until nothing leaked from its wounds, and then in a single motion it freed itself from the stakes by merely shaking. Flesh tore where it was meant to tear, and stakes broke when they were leveraged against bone. When it was free, Saries then broke and removed the stakes from a small corner of the pit and placed the three cubs on it, then stood itself between the cubs and the opening above.
It could hear them coming. A lot of feet, running, approaching.
A Tormenta flew overhead, and Saries called it with a bark that shattered the remaining stakes.
The bird was fast, and in a moment it had found its way into the pit and perched itself onto Saries’ snout where the two exchanged a look.
Then the Tormenta looked at the cubs and, after tensing its wings in a shrug-like manner, picked them up and flew out of the pit.
Normally, Tormentas like the one Saries had just called would prey on cubs like the ones it had just saved… But when fighting the unnatural, one had to become slightly unnatural as well.
The first 3 humans to arrive came at the right time to see Saries jumping out of the pit and landing only a meter from their faces. The ground shook such that the three of them fell onto their hands and knees and the beast, drenched in its own thick blood and with broken spears and stakes stuck into its body, looked at them.
Saries sniffed the air and growled – One of the humans dared mark this territory as his, in front of It?! Saries bit the man’s head off and spat it into the pit so fast that his body collapsed only after Saries had pinned the other two humans under its paws.
It was then that it lowered its head towards each of them and bit their skulls with its sharpest fangs, penetrating bone as if it was butter and finally stopping as soon as it felt their brains.
The first one to be cursed was the man – Young, with a parent’s scent about him, but also completely wicked in the tormented furs that he wore and the sickening flesh that melted in his stomach. He was cursed to become half-man half-beast. To forever be an outcast and a slave to his hunger and instincts. There was a brief flash of fire coming from inside the man’s skull as Saries withdrew his fangs, and then the screaming started. Flesh tore as bones grew and reconfigured themselves, and at one point the man had screamed so much that the only thing that came out of his mouth were hoarse gasps.
That was when Saries shifted its focus from the man, to the woman under his other paw. Now, it understood. They weren’t marking the territory – These creatures merely had weak bladders, prone to losing control. It huffed and did the same thing to the woman’s skull, penetrating it like nothing with its fangs.
This one was cursed in a different manner, though. Whilst the man was forced to be an outcast for the rest of eternity, the woman would be forced to remain with other humans, for her hunger would be one that no other creature would sate. She would feed off the blood, and the emotions, and the flesh of other humans and nothing else.
Fire filled the woman’s skull as soon as Saries removed its fangs, and she screamed also.
It only lasted a few seconds, but by the end of their transformation, the two were no longer humans. The man was a hideous mixture of a beast and a man – hunched over, with sharp claws on his fingers and toes, fur along his limbs and a misshapen snout filled with razor-sharp teeth. Where there once was a spark in his eyes now remained a dull, reactive glance.
And the woman. Her skin had become dark as coal, eyes white as snow, and her teeth had all been sharpened so that even touching her own lips to them drew blood. Her veins glowed a pulsing white that rearranged itself into strange shapes and sigils along her skin. Where there once was a spark in her eyes, there was now an unmistakable aloofness to them, as if she wasn’t entirely there anymore.
Saries would give them no names, because they did not deserve them. To it they were merely monsters, an example of what corrupted humans amounted to in Saries’ eyes.
And so, whilst the Cursed were looking over their new forms, a multitude of humans arrived.
V
The news reached Ganga in pieces, shouted, half-sobbed, tripping over itself as runners crashed into the camp. The trap, they said, worked. The ground had broken, the pit had taken something massive, something that bled thick and dark. Relief flickered through the tribe for a heartbeat, sharp and desperate. Then the rest followed. It climbed out. It did not die. It stood back up. And worse than that, two of their own no longer looked like people when they came screaming out of the trees.
Ganga did not wait for the panic to finish spreading. She pushed through bodies, shoved aside hands that tried to stop her, and moved toward the site with fury. When she saw it, her breath caught despite herself. The pit was ruined, shattered, stakes broken like twigs. And there it stood. Enormous, glowing faintly like a mockery of the stars, blood clotted through its fur, eyes too aware, too judging. Near it, things that had once been human twitched and screamed, wrong in ways her mind resisted naming.
The cursed were familiar enough that recognition hurt. One moved like a man dragged down by an animal’s frame, hunger written into every crooked line of him. The other stood too still, her eyes empty and sharp all at once, veins burning pale beneath darkened skin. Ganga felt something cold settle into her gut. This was not death. This was punishment. This was a future worse than being eaten, and whatever had done this had done it deliberately. This was not a simple predator. It was something worse
“Fire,” Ganga said, her voice cutting through the terror. “Burn them. Burn them ALL!.” Torches were already in hands, flames shaking as fear fed them. The first torch flew, then another, then a dozen, arcs of fire streaking through the dim light toward the glowing beast and the cursed shapes in front of it.
Smoke billowed as flames – having grown far too big and far too suddenly – caught fur, flesh, old blood. The air filled with near-human screams, and the tribe surged forward.
Ganga did not stay behind them. She tore a torch from another’s grip and ran with it, feet pounding, teeth bared in something between a snarl and a scream. She hurled the fire with all her strength, then followed it, grabbing a fallen spear and driving it forward into the flames with reckless intent. She did not care that the thing was massive, that it had shrugged off their trap. It had stepped into her people’s blood, and that was enough.
But the flames obscured the shapes of monsters, and when they cleared, Ganga saw her spear stuck not in the glowing beast, but in the gut of the man-turned-beast.
It snarled at her, skin smoking and melting off the bone in parts, burning the image into Ganga’s eyes. Its eyes were gone, but there was a glow to him, not unlike that of the glowing beast, and then the eyes grew back and stared at Ganga.
To her side, three warriors had struck into the equally stunned woman-turned-monster, but a similar thing was happening. Melted flesh was regrowing, blood returning to its vessel.
It was a sickening feeling – the reverberations that echoed down the shaft of her spear from bones and flesh moving around, the gurgling sounds of the man-beast’s drowned screams as they came from his exposed throat rather than his mouth.
All the while, the glowing beast behind them only watched, untouched by the flames.
Ganga drove her spear further in, then thrust her torch into the man-beast’s face. One of her tribesmen came to her aid by bringing his heavy adze down onto the man-beast’s shoulder, the sharp stone grinding and fracturing bone as it went.
And then the glow became more intense, and the monsters tensed, and the adze and the spear shattered as flesh and bone closed in around them, and the man-beast grabbed the torch and tore it from Ganga’s grasp and thrust it into her tribesman’s gasping mouth.
Ganga slipped on the melted flesh of the man-beast when she took a step back in retreat.
Then the fight dissolved into chaos.
The monsters moved like nothing the tribe had ever fought. They did not avoid pain and they seemed completely unable to die. The man-beast moved as fast as slingshot and gutted men with his claws and bit into their limbs and throats like a feral beast, completely unhindered by his mutated anatomy. And the woman-monster moved with an ethereal grace, almost as if she was dancing, as she avoided every single thrust and swing and slash from all the warriors.
And when they did get struck, the wound simply knit itself back together in front of their eyes.
Fire spread faster than fear ever could. The flames climbed dry brush and fallen hides, jumped bodies, turned the clearing into a choking, screaming cage. Ganga felt it then, not as panic but as certainty, death was no longer circling, it was standing right in front of her, waiting for her to make one more foolish step. One she feared she already took. The monsters did not slow. The glowing beast still watched. And the tribe was breaking, not routing yet, but cracking in a way she had seen before only in slaughter. This was not a battle that could be won.
She shouted the retreat until her throat burned raw, grabbing the nearest living bodies she could reach. Five. Then six. That was all who answered, eyes wide, skin scorched, weapons dropped or broken. As they ran, something tore into Ganga’s side, a bite from one of the creatures. Pain exploded through her flank, sharply and her leg buckled beneath her as she hit the monster with her torch but she did not fall, not fully, but the strength fled her in a rush, blood hot against her skin.
Hands caught her immediately. Not furred hands, not scaled, but bare, shaking ones. Two of them hauled her weight, one arm slung over each shoulder, and they dragged her as fire licked at their heels and monsters snarled. Ganga echoed the snarl through clenched teeth, forced her legs to move, but she was no longer running so much as being carried forward by stubborn loyalty. Every step sent agony through her side, breath coming short and wet, vision blurring at the edges.
They did not stop until the screams were distant and the glow was swallowed by smoke and trees. Six figures collapsed into the dark, coughing, bleeding, alive. Ganga sank to her knees at last, hands pressed hard to her wound, supported on both sides so she would not topple face-first into the dirt. Behind them, the fire roared. Ahead of them was only night, loss and the knowledge that something had followed their people into the world that would not be easily outrun.
VI
Alechior had been draped across the high air, limbs folded loosely as if the sky were a hammock made just for them. The Happy Cloud slid above like slow cards being shuffled, the world far below reduced to patterns and movement without meaning. They were half-asleep, drifting in that pleasant state where thought unraveled into idle amusement, when something tugged, sharp and rude, at their attention. Not a prayer but violence, loud enough to annoy them.
Their eyes opened and the sky seemed to pull itself tighter around them. Firelight flared far below, too sudden, too hungry, blooming near Gamberdise valley like a bad wager gone worse. Alechior sighed, the sound carrying no wind, only intent. A flick of will folded distance like paper, and they drifted downward, unseen, unannounced, invisible to mortal sight. The air thickened with smoke and heat as they drew closer, the noise resolving into screams and something else, something different. Godly.
They hovered just beyond the reach of flame, watching without being watched. Mortals ran. Mortals burned. And at the center of it all stood shapes that did not obey the usual rules, glowing wounds knitting shut as if pain were a suggestion rather than a fact. Alechior tilted their head, interest fully awake now. “Well,” they murmured to no one at all, “someone is cheating and getting some divine help.”
Then Alechior dipped into a slow, exaggerated bow in the air, one hand pressed to their chest and the other swept outward, a gesture of courtesy offered toward the great glowing wolf below, aware that the wolf could clearly see them.
The wolf merely glanced back for a split moment, before its narrowed eyes turned back to the slaughter unfolding in front of them.
Alechior watched the brief glance from the great wolf, then the immediate dismissal and audibly scoffed. Loudly. They pressed a hand to their chest in exaggerated offense, posture wounded. “Wow,” they muttered, floating in place, “no bow back, no acknowledgment, no nothing. Leave it to the big wolf to forget their manners.” They sighed, long and theatrical, then leaned back in the air as if settling into a seat.
It was clearly slowing down at this point and upon seeing this, the glow surrounding the two unnatural humans faded.
Alechior let the moment stretch. Flames crackled. Bodies fell. The glow dimmed and with it the certainty of victory.
By this point all the mortals, monsters included, were heaving and moving sluggishly. From the great band of warriors remained four, two of whom were clutching wounds with one hand and holding knives with the other, and other two who were glancing around them at the monsters and the fires.
The man-beast took a single step forward, arms slack to his sides and mouth dripping with blood.
One of the last warriors dropped his spear and turned around and ran.
The other three charged.
A club struck the man-beast’s raised arm. Bone shattered and at the same time his opposite arm sliced into the man’s gut and through his spine.
A knife stabbed into the man-beast’s side and in response he bit his attacker’s face and tore jaw from skull.
And then there was only one warrior remaining before him.
But the man-beast’s lungs burned. It coughed and blood sprayed, and its bones weren’t setting, not as fast as earlier.
He dropped to a knee, a growl turning into ragged panting as his one good hand grasped the knife lodged in between his ribs. Then he pulled the knife out and threw it at the remaining warrior’s feet.
“Nngh…” The man-beast groaned, now dropping onto his good hand as his other arm started to slowly, excruciatingly, set bone back into place.
The warrior did not miss his chance. He lunged, wielding both knives, and slashed at the man-beast’s throat – Only for the blades to be caught in the monster-woman’s claws, and shatter.
She chuckled, then she looked around and laughed.
And all of a sudden the laughter stopped and she grabbed the warrior by the throat, her claws digging far enough into the skin to draw blood.
“Ahh, the flesh of a great warrior,” She said, her voice as sweet as honey, but devoid of any warmth, and her veins pulsing with a violent rhythm of light. “I can already savour you, boy.”
Alechior’s expression shifted from mock offense to interest, head tilting as the man-beast slowed, as the woman’s laughter rang sharp through the smoke. They watched the final exchanges like a gambler watching dice roll across a table, already knowing the outcome but enjoying the tension anyway. “Ah,” they murmured, “there it is. Hubris. Always shows up late to the party.”
When the woman-beast seized the last warrior and bared her teeth, Alechior finally moved. There was no announcement, no thunderclap. One moment the air was empty, the next a hand was there, as they moved at an impossible speed. Alechior’s fingers closed around the woman-beast’s throat just as she leaned in to bite, stopping her. Not a strike, not a shove, just an iron grip that made the air itself seem heavier. Her claws scraped uselessly against their wrist as her eyes snapped wide in sudden, furious confusion.
At the same instant, the man-beast lunged. Alechior did not look at him. A second hand reached back, almost lazy, and caught him by the throat mid-charge. The impact lifted the man-beast clean off the ground, legs kicking as Alechior straightened in the air, holding one monster aloft and the other frozen in place. Flames flickered around them, reflected dimly in Alechior’s golden eyes. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” They clicked their tongue, shaking their head.
They finally looked at the man-beast, lifting him a little higher for emphasis. “Really? Charging headfirst?” Alechior said, voice light, almost amused. “I would have thought the one with claws for nails might understand the concept of reach.” Then they glanced to the woman-beast, tightening their grip just enough to make the point painfully clear. “And you,” they added, “biting mid-monologue? That is just sloppy villain work. I expect MORE!”
Alechior exhaled, the sound warm and dangerous and smiled. “You know,” they went on, still holding both creatures effortlessly, “I step away for one nap and suddenly everyone forgets basic etiquette. No biting guests, no killing the last fighter before the scene ends, and absolutely no ignoring a god who bothered to show up.” Their grin widened. “Honestly, I am hurt. And when I am hurt,” they added cheerfully, “I tend to get very hands-on.”
Alechior turned their head at last, still holding both monsters as if they weighed nothing, and inclined it slightly toward the great wolf. Not a bow this time, but a polite tilt of their head. “Well then,” they said lightly, voice carrying just enough to matter, “since we are apparently sharing a battlefield.” Their eyes gleamed as they looked Saries over, glow answering glow. “Alechior. A pleasure, I assume. God of odds, wagers and all the delightful messes that happen when chance is nudged or the fun of life!” adding the last part with a grin.
They gave the man-beast a small shake, then tightened their grip on the woman-beast’s throat for emphasis. “Now,” Alechior continued, tone curious rather than hostile, “what exactly is your intention with these two?” A brow arched. “Are they pets? Warnings? Art projects?” A faint grin followed. “Because they did just try to strike a god, which is usually grounds for very permanent consequences. I would hate to step on your toes, but if you plan to keep them, I would like to know before I decide how creative I am feeling.”
The wolf-god huffed. Along with the huff, came visions. A burly man-god repeating the name ‘Saries’, the smell of man-eating-man, and the purposeless suffering of predator and prey alike, killed not for food but for sport.
And then Saries’ stare softened just a bit, as if to say it didn’t care what happened to the two monsters.
Alechior laughed, brightly, the sound ringing against the smoke and death. “Oh, that?” they said, waving the vision away as if it were a bad card draw. “Yes, yes, I see it. Big man, big name, very serious about it. Cannibals too. Honestly, dreadful table manners.” Their grin sharpened then dulled. “Killing for killing’s sake though, that’s the real offense. No tension, no stakes, no wit. Just noise and waste. Completely joyless.”
They looked back at the two monsters hanging in their grasp, struggling, glowing faintly as their borrowed divinity sputtered. “You’re right,” Alechior went on, tone settling into something almost respectful. “What’s the point of ending them now? They tried to strike a god, yes, which is bold, stupid and usually fatal. But there was intent there, hunger twisted into something else. That makes it interesting. And interest deserves continuation.”
Alechior loosened their grip just enough to let the implication sink in. “So they live,” they said simply. “Not because they deserve mercy, but because existence itself will punish them far better than I ever could.” Their eyes flicked back to Saries. “As they are now, they won’t last long in this world. Hunted, feared, not understood. Life will grind them down slowly. Unpredictably,” Alechior added with a small, satisfied smile, “is far more my style. I'll be granting them a gift and let us see where the dice lands. If that's okay with you,” they continued with a wink ", wouldn't want to step on your paws."
Saries simply sat down with a tail flick.
Alechior snorted softly. “Ah. Of course,” they said, hands spreading in exaggerated understanding as two other hands appeared to hold the beasts by their necks. “The strong, stoic type. All presence, no commentary. Truly, the most intimidating form of conversation.” They tilted their head, peering at the wolf-god with mock seriousness. “You know, some of us use words. It’s a hobby. Very popular. Should totally try it!”
Saries tilted its head.
Alechior glanced between the silent god and the two creatures. “But no, no, I get it,” Alechior continued lightly. “Why waste breath when you can brood? Tail flicks are basically full sermons where you come from, right?” A grin tugged at their mouth, amused but not unkind. Saries gave nothing back but a huff and Alechior hummed. “Figures.”
Then the tone shifted, just a notch. The air around Alechior tightened, pressure building like a held breath. Gold light began to pool in their chest pulsing. It crawled upward along their throat, down their arms, gathering in their hands until their fingers glowed like molten coins. “Alright,” they said, voice steady now. “Silent approval accepted.”
The golden power flowed from Alechior’s palms and poured into the monsters, sinking beneath fur and flesh, threading itself into bone, blood, and curse alike. Both beasts convulsed as the light took hold, not burning, not healing but rewriting something fundamental, like dice being shaken before a throw.
When Alechior finally let go, the glow faded back into their skin, leaving the two creatures gasping in the dirt, momentarily stunned, changed in ways they could not yet understand. Alechior rolled their shoulders and looked down at them, smiling. “Congratulations,” they said pleasantly. “You’ve been cursed. Or blessed. Depends how well you play the hand you’ve just been dealt.”
Alechior straightened, the last traces of golden light fading from their hands as they turned fully toward Saries. A wide grin spread across their face, the kind that treated gods and beasts alike as equals at the same table. “Well,” they said lightly, gesturing back toward the valley, “if you, your offspring and any of your followers feel like stepping somewhere a little less on fire or dangerous for all but us, you’re welcome in Gamberdise.” Their tone carried warmth rather than command. “My temple’s open. No tricks, no wagers required to cross the threshold.”
They tilted their head, hands spreading in an exaggerated show of hospitality. “Rest, talk, argue philosophy, glare silently, whatever suits you. The people there know how to coexist with odd divinities and strange guests, and I make sure no one starts trouble they can’t finish.” A brief chuckle followed. “Consider it neutral ground. If you choose to come, you’ll be received with open hands, and if you don’t,” they added with a shrug, “no offense taken. Invitations, like games, only matter if you decide to play. Byeeeee!”
Rising to the air, Alechior looked at Saries's head and contemplated petting his head before thinking better of it.
Ganga’s tribe grows aggressive after the Sun changes the land, hunting constantly and abandoning old rules. When a sentry is killed and huge paw prints are found, Ganga sets a trap for the predator. The creature, Saries, escapes, kills guards, and curses two humans into monstrous forms (Therianthropes and Parasithropes). The tribe attacks but fails, suffering heavy losses before fleeing into the night.
Alechior arrives, stops the fight, and alters the Cursed further. Alechior then offers Saries an invitation to Gamblerdise.
Saries Conviction Expenditures: -2 - In Domain Action -2 - In Domain Action
Alechior Conviction Expenditures: -2 - In Domain Actions
Saries spent 2 Conviction creating the Curse of Therianthropy. This is an infectious divine disease that can be passed along via bodily fluids such as blood and saliva. Those who contract this disease will find themselves mutating into a Therianthrope within a few weeks, with the physical and mental changes gradually becoming more and more severe until remaining in Human settlements becomes impossible. Therianthropes are cursed to be in an eternal state of gnawing hunger which can only ever be temporarily sated by hunting and eating anything that moves.
They are blessed with enhanced regeneration (can regenerate a lost limb in a week and can heal from a stab wound in a day), enhanced durability (can survive a stab wound to the heart or severe brain damage, but will die at a certain threshold of damage depending on the individual), as well as enhanced general physicality, such as speed, reflexes, strength, etc. As an example, the first Therianthrope was a wolf-man who had claws for nails, a snout and sharp fangs.
Alechior spent 1 Conviction to Enhance the Curse of Therianthropy with a Gambler’s Mercy. This divine modification weaves chance directly into the existing curse, introducing an element of risk, hope and cruel irony. Every 30 full day-night cycles, those afflicted with Therianthropy are subjected to a cosmic roll of fate.
There is a 40% chance that the curse temporarily loosens its grip, allowing the afflicted to revert fully to their human form for the next 7 consecutive nights. During this time, all physical mutations are suppressed, hunger subsides to mortal levels, and regeneration and durability return to that of an ordinary human.
However, this reprieve is not without its bite. The afflicted have no control over when the gamble succeeds or fails, nor any forewarning of the outcome. When the 7 nights end, the curse reasserts itself violently, forcing the body back into its therianthropic state within moments. Memories of the human nights remain vivid and painful, often worsening the psychological torment of the curse.
Saries spent 2 Conviction creating the Curse of Parasithropy. This is an infectious divine disease that can be passed along via bodily fluids such as blood and saliva. Those who contract this disease will find themselves mutating into a Parasithrope within a few weeks, with the physical and mental changes gradually becoming more and more severe until it becomes impossible to move far from any human presence.
Parasithropes are cursed with only receiving sustenance from Humanoid blood, flesh, and emotion, hence their inability to isolate themselves for any meaningful length of time. Like Therianthropes, they have enhanced regeneration and enhanced durability, but whereas Therianthropes are supernatural powerhouses, Parasithropes merely have fast reflexes.
As an example, the first Parasithrope developed skin black as coal, veins that pulsed with light, white irises, claws for nails, and teeth so sharp she constantly sliced her lips open on them.
Alechior spent 1 Conviction to Enhance the Curse of Parasithropy with the Dealer’s Smile. This divine alteration bends perception and emotion around those afflicted, turning social interaction into a dangerous game of influence rather than brute survival. All Parasithropes now emanate an unnatural aura of calm, subtle but pervasive, that passively affects anyone within close proximity.
The presence of the afflicted induces feelings of ease and comfort as though nothing in the moment could possibly be wrong.
Those who meet a Parasithrope’s gaze for more than a few seconds experience the effect far more strongly. Prolonged eye contact causes the target to feel elated to be in the Parasithrope’s presence, lowering suspicion, dulling fear responses and weakening resistance to suggestion or persuasion. The afflicted do not gain direct mind control but their words carry unnatural weight and their requests feel reasonable, even desirable. Victims often rationalize their behavior afterward, unaware that their emotions were ever influenced.
This is a blessing that acts strong in the original but as more descendants are infected, the power will be reduced.
It had taken a single howl from Saries for the Valley’s population of Tormentas to assemble. There were all kinds of them – Large and small, predator and prey, healthy and ill – and, for that day only, they set aside their differences and worked together as demanded by their Progenitor.
The Twin Tongues Jiva and Sirele of the Accord of the Boulder could only watch from afar, perched upon a large tree protected by two Gold-tipped Tormentas, as their friend Saries and its offspring faced the approaching inferno head-on.
Water was a rare sight in those days, and when it came it came blackened. This time, it was no different. The rain came moderate and too warm for comfort, but it was rain still, and every drop did its part in fighting the flames.
II
Seconds turned into minutes. The flames grew bigger and bolder. Sarhush’s fires had been taken care of quickly, but they had achieved their purpose. Now, the fires of the burning world were attempting to swallow the Valley. Droves of Tormentas dropped from the skies and the rising plumes of smoke poisoned the air and clouds above – And yet Saries would not let them die. The Tormentas rose again and again with every howl and every bark that came from the Beast-God.
Minutes turned into hours, and the Twins started to worry.
Where the battle between life and flame took place, the wall of fire did not advance. But everywhere else – The mountain peaks, the flanks, even the valley behind them, had become engulfed. There was only so much that the Tormentas and Saries could do.
It was then that the air stood still and turned into writhing flames, licking their skin all over and making it tingle and burn. A booming voice, one that burned the Twins’ eardrums, whispered like the crackle of a campfire.
“Go on, come into it. Into my warmth.”
The leaves on that great tree lit on fire, and the branches sparked and smoked. Jiva grabbed Sirele by the arm and immediately jumped off the tree, landing on the dirt ground below with a sickening crunch and a scream.
“Jiva!” Shouted Sirele as she stumbled up onto her feet and dragged her brother away from under the canopy of the burning tree. A look was all it took to figure out what happened – His right ankle was bent the wrong way, and his foot flopped around with every movement.
Tears rolled freely down his face, but there was no crying, only grunts and moans of pain. Sirele could almost feel his pain, and in the distance, she heard an anguished howl.
The burning air did not remain in the canopy. It followed them!
But the Twins’ escort arrived. A gold-tipped Tormenta covered in a thick shield of rainwater dived right into the burning air.
It was a split second, but in that moment a great explosion rocked the clearing. Water vapour went everywhere, burning the Twins’ uncovered skin and smothering the unnatural burning air.
And in front of the twins landed their protector – Only a foot in length, with the front half of its body burned beyond recognition, smoking still from the encounter. It twitched, its one remaining eye looking up at Sirele before glazing over.
Sirele felt sick. She was dizzy, disoriented, and for a moment wasn’t even sure what had happened – But then she turned to look at her brother and saw him unconscious, skin puffy and red, and she cried out.
One of her tears froze and floated off her face, and then it spoke.
“How unfortunate,” It said in a quiet voice that was almost not there, “How cruel.”
A cocoon of frost formed around both the Twins’ protector and Jiva, and all the pain and heat emanating from Sirele’s own wounds suddenly disappeared.
“Stand, Sirele. Know that Cold has taken of the blood of Saries, and that for this battle, you may take of the blood of Cold.”
It came in an ever-increasing wave – An unforgiving, deep cold that chilled her very soul. She thought she was going to die, but death never came. Instead, she felt hunger.
She extended a hand towards the burning trees around her and did not blink twice when the flames cooled and sputtered out, all their heat flowing into herself and granting her a small reprieve from the cold that had taken root in her.
And so she walked, aimless, in a daze, absorbing the heat of the world and putting out fires and freezing the land.
III
How many days had it been?
Before Saries was Sirele, curled up into herself in a small nest of ice and snow. She was naked, and although there were clear burn marks all over her, she did not look to be in pain. She was asleep, after all. Hibernating.
The fires were gone now, and the skies were clear. But the damage had been done. Most of the area was burned, and what had once been a rich ecosystem would now have to work hard to recover. It was possible it would never recover at all.
But lives had been saved. Plants and their seeds, animals and their offspring, even insects and parasites.
Jiva, who had been riding on Saries’ back, jumped down from his mount and rushed over to his sister’s side.
A quick huff from Saries made it clear that he was not to touch her, and so Saries approached first and sniffed her face, then pressed its mouth against hers and inhaled.
The air in her lungs was so cold it was almost liquid, but such a thing was no issue for a God. And so when all the frozen air in her lungs was gone, Saries spat it out to the side and blew warm air in.
Slowly, the frost covering her skin melted, and her eyes fluttered open. She winced, the pain from her burns returning, before Saries bumped its nose against hers and a gentle warmth washed away all pain and erased all burns.
Bewildered, she looked at Jiva and his ankle, then at the Tormenta perched on his shoulder, and burst into tears, hugging one arm around Saries’ massive neck and the other around her brother, with the Tormenta spreading its wings to maintain balance as the two humans rocked.
Meanwhile, Saries looked at the cloud of cold air that it had taken out of Sirele and watched it slowly dissipate.
“How cold…” It whispered, and then it was gone.
Whatever its intention, the Patron of Cold had not only helped stop the fires, but had also saved the lives of the Twins and the Tormenta. It was a friend, yet it could not be marked, and so there was only one thing to do to honour it.
It was awkward – Its form had not been designed with it in mind, and doing so felt unnatural and, in truth, a little bit embarrassing, as if it was debasing itself.
It came from deep in its throat. A sound that reverberated in the Twins’ chests and almost made their jaws hit the floor.
“Thank you.”
Saries gathered all the Tormentas to stop the wildfire started by Sarhush, but the flames kept growing aided by the apocalypse. Jiva and Sirele tried to escape when the Patron of Wildfire appeared, and Jiva was badly injured. A gold‑tipped Tormenta sacrificed itself to protect them. Then the Patron of Cold arrived, froze Jiva and the dying Tormenta to save them, and filled Sirele with cold so she could absorb heat and put out the fire. Days later, Saries found Sirele hibernating in a nest of ice. It revived her, healed her burns, and reunited her with Jiva. The Patron of Cold had helped save many lives, and Saries honored it with its first ever spoken words.
Conviction Expenditures: None used. Saries performed many Lucid actions such as maintaining the Life of Tormentas and plants and animals, and commanding lesser beasts to fight back the fires.
Sirele's Witnessings - Boulder's Ideo-Marked Biosphere Part 1 - Imantails
You are most likely thinking the following:
How come there is a scroll about Sirele’s observations of the Parai that existed in the Valley of the Boulder, when she only learned to write and sketch half a century after she left that land?
My answer to that is simple — This scroll was not written by Sirele and was instead written by me, Mael, her fifty seventh descendant. I obtained this knowledge directly from my mother after she had retired to the frontier. We spent a lot of time together back then and so I bring to you the knowledge that many had assumed lost.
Without further delay, here is the information.
I draw these memories from the deepest parts of my soul — They are amongst my earliest and my most valuable, for the things that appear in them have long been taken from our plane.
My first encounter with the Ideo-Marked happened when I was collecting wild leaves to make a concoction for Saries. On that day, on the last bush that I intended to inspect for suitable leaves, I instead found a squirrel, a squirrel that was eating a rock!
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me — That perhaps my curse had also affected my senses, you know? It might sound strange to you, but back then we had only ever witnessed such strange behaviour from the local Tormenta population. You know, the birds that used to have total control over rain and storm? Rarely seen nowadays — Poached to near extinction by the likes of Kur-Laka… Anyway. The squirrel was really eating a rock.
Not only that, but its front teeth glinted in the midday sun, much like the glint one can see coming from metal. And upon closer inspection, the squirrel’s “fur” wasn’t really fur at all, but an incredible amount of extremely thin tendrils of metal, all of them covered in a dark, powder-like substance.
So not only was the squirrel’s behaviour odd in the sense that it ate rocks and was unafraid of Humanity — It was also anatomically wrong in the way that only the Tormentas could have been back then.
That’s when I understood it for the first time. Life was in flux, always changing, ready to show you something new if you take the moment to just look.
I grabbed that squirrel and brought it to Saries, who confirmed what I already suspected. It was Ideo-Marked, but in a lesser way to the Tormentas. We named that species of squirrel “imantails”, and soon enough discovered that the black powder that clung to them was a very specific kind of sand that they actively searched for along the banks of rivers. All they had to do to become covered in the sand was roll around for a few seconds, and the sand would simply levitate out of the ground and stick to them as if it had always belonged there.
It took some time for Amunites to realize that that black sand was a type of metal that worked well for tools and such — Iron. And from then on, finding an imantail anywhere was taken as evidence that a large deposit of such treasure was nearby. Naturally, once this discovery reached the ears of the Accord of Peth-Amun, the Eight Nomes commissioned the person who originally reported the imantails’ existence to go out into the world and document every single Ideo-Marked species in the local regions.
That person was me. And as payment they allowed me to name this newly discovered branch of life, which I named Parai — Which so happens to be the Shamanic word for ‘paragon’.
And so after I was dismissed from the council of the Eight Nomes, I became Peth-Amun’s first ever sanctioned explorer. That is how I made a name for myself, and it’s what eventually allowed me to find transport out of Amunite territory.
Imantails These are Squirrels that have been blessed by the Patron of Magnetism. They are covered not in fur, but in thousands of tiny, magnetic metal filaments that attract sand and/or gravel rich in magnetic material. Those filaments absorb and metabolise that material, reinforcing their musculoskeletal structure in order to permit them to consume a diet of non-metallic rocks and crystals without any ill effects.
Given that they need to remain near sources of easily-metabolised material, finding an imantail usually means that there is a decently sized magnetic metal deposit nearby.
Given their diets and anatomy, mundane animals tend to not consider Imantails as prey, as their flesh is extremely hard to digest and processing it tends to result in severe cases of kidney stones. On the other hand, they are particularly susceptible to other Ideo-Marked beasts such as the Earth-Blessed or Death-Blessed.
Examples of Imantail variants are: the docile Amunite Iron-Coated Imantails, the rare and territorial Bird-Hunting Platinum-Coated Imantails, and the Dwarf Iron-Coated Imantails of the First Coast.
Short post, styled as if it was an in-world scroll available in different libraries to be read by scholars. Mael, Sirele’s 57th descendant, relays Sirele’s memories of the biosphere that existed in the Valley of the Boulder before its mass deforestation and resulting ecological collapse. This post describes the Parai(Ideal-Marked beasts, AKA magical beasts, AKA future monsters) Imantail archetype.
Jiva hadn’t eaten anything since the previous morning, almost a day and a half ago, and even then he still felt like he was about to be sick.
Let’s be honest, right? Coming back home with a massive God-Beast in tow and with strange new markings on one’s body is something that is definitely not going to be well received! Gods were dangerous, strange things – Whispers of the God-Rock and the God-Man were enough to easily convince all the member tribes of the Accord to err on the side of caution. Offerings were encouraged, meant more as peace offerings. But actual direct physical contact and not only that, but bringing the god back home? That was another matter entirely.
Jiva sat cross-legged on one of the eight tree stumps around the campfire. Sirele sat on the stump next to his except she sat with her legs neatly tucked under herself, and opposite the Twins was a large, hulking beast of a man. Sporting long dark hair styled into a single thick braid which he draped over his shoulder, as well as plentiful facial hair around the mouth but none on the sides, this man was their dad.
Jiva’s father was a fearsome man. Even now he sat with his legs – each one as thick as a tree trunk – spread far enough that he nearly occupied the space that three normal people normally would. His arms, scarred from the dozens of times he’d wrestled and dominated wild beasts, were crossed over his equally marred chest. And his amber eyes, almost hidden by his thick brow, stared not at Sirele, but at Jiva.
Couldn’t the earth just open up and swallow him whole right now? C’mon!
Things weren’t all bad, though. Saries’ presence nearby was comforting. It was a shame it left the moment it saw the campfire, but there was nothing that could be done about that.
Sirele clapped her hands loudly, which broke Jiva out of his reverie.
“So there you have it dad!” Sirele clapped again, and then summarised her well-practiced excuse. It was a sight to behold – Her lower body stayed still like a statue whilst her arms and hands moved about every other second, in sync with the ups and downs of her tone of voice. “So in short, we were on our way to the Sacred Grove, but watched the God-Beast Saries fall from the skies whilst on our way there, so we diverted from our pilgrimage and tracked it down. At the time, it seemed like the best thing to do, you know! You’re always going off into the Valley to wrestle bears and catch Tormentas, so why not us? Anyway yeah, we thought maybe if we tracked it down we might be able to ask for its help, you know, what with the sky falling down and the earth bleeding its guts out and turning the entire Confederation into a wasteland, we thought that maybe having a God-Beast on our side might be good, and-”
Their father raised a hand, and Sirele stopped speaking so suddenly she choked on her spit.
“So,” Their father’s voice boomed. For a second, it almost looked like the campfire was about to go out. “You tracked down a God-Beast because you thought you had what it takes to tame-”
Their father looked at Sirele for a split second and coughed. “A-hem, befriend, it. Without calling for help. While the very earth and skies want us dead? Did you know that while you two were gone, the Shaman-Tribe had to abandon their home? The caves filled with an evil miasma that first kills the mind, then kills the body. This could have very well happened to you.”
“But Dad-” Sirele tried to interrupt, but was cut off by their father again.
“And do you know how worried the entire Accord was, when they’d heard our envoys never made it to the first checkpoint? How disappointed they were when they realized we wasted weeks worth of food and manpower in a foolish attempt to appease the gods with an offering? You do know that your cousin Coso lost two of his toes securing the path you were supposed to follow?”
“I-I-” Sirele attempted again, voice beginning to shake. Jiva glanced at her. His sister was braver than he was, but even she had her limits.
“And what about your mother? About me? When our woodsmen all returned one after the other, telling us that none of them had seen you. When you did not appear for an entire week after that… I had to stop your mother from jumping into a fissure, do you know that? A woman’s life is her children. I’ve never…” Their father trailed off and stared into the fire for a while.
The only sound was the crackling of the fire, and soon enough Sirele’s sniffling joined that sound.
Eventually, their father took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth. He uncrossed his arms and slapped them down onto his thighs. In an instant, he had deflated.
“Don’t do this again, guys. Jiva, Sirele, you two mean the world to your mom and me. If you’re going to do something crazy, at least ask for help alright?”
It was like a weight had been lifted off Jiva’s shoulders. Suddenly, he felt weak and floppy and had to catch himself with his arms before he fell over backwards. A glance from his father quickly reminded him what he must do, though. Finding whatever strength remained in him, Jiva moved over to Sirele’s stump and hugged her. She was crying now – even if Sirele had managed to fare better than some of the Accord’s seniors, it was still impossible for a normal person to survive such a direct attack from their father.
“I’ll admit, all things considered, I did not expect you to actually befriend a God-Beast. And it’s Saries, right? The one who created everything alongside the God-Man Sarhush. At the very least, I can rest easy knowing you’ve got a good companion now.”
Sirele nodded and squeaked out a response, not unlike a wounded small animal. “Y-Yeah…”
II
Saries huffed at the sight. Over the past few days, the skies had begun to clear a bit, and the rain no longer came down black and heavy, and the earth had sated most of its hunger, so Saries was able to take some time to just watch the world it had helped create. To Saries, it was easy to see every single detail even from the peak of the tallest mountain that surrounded that Valley. Every single tree, branch, leaf, and critter lived their life under its watchful eye. But that also meant it saw every tree stump, every campfire, every plume of white smoke…
Saries hated them. It wanted to erase all those signs for good. Everything that reminded it of those early days that were filled with so much strife was something that it wanted to erase.
And yet something prevented it from acting out its instinct. Ever since it had connected with the pair of ur-humans, it had felt inclined to leave them be, to allow them their small territories and to simply watch and shepherd them should the need arise.
It’s not that it suddenly cared for ur-human congregations, no – It was that the ur-humans it had acknowledged as friends cared for their own lands and their own people, and knowing the depth of their love, Saries could not bring itself to take everything away from them.
It would be no better than Sarhush if it did.
It glanced to the side when one of its Blessed – one member of a species that the ur-humans had taken to calling ‘Flesh-Searing Yellow-Tipped Tormenta’, for its ability to discharge lightning at will by pecking or scratching at its prey – swooped down and perched itself on a tree branch. Its feathers, tipped with a glowing yellow made even more striking by the arcs of lightning that danced between them, ruffled as it pointed its beak in a particular direction.
Fires, yes – Saries was aware. The world was burning and many were dying, it had been the first to feel it. There was nothing it could do about it, though. Even after the care it had received from its new friends, Saries remained exhausted. And the earth itself had helped anyway, by splitting open and preventing the fires from infesting the Valley itself.
So as long as it remained watchful and reacted when necessary, all should be fine–
Rancid smoke, months-old sweat, and the scent of burned hair all assaulted Saries’ nose in an instant.
Sarhush!
With a mighty jump and a fast transformation, Saries took off into the skies in its Hawk form and rushed towards the source of the scent – The wildfires at the edge of the Valley.
The Twins confront their father. Their father is angry and disappointed because they failed to perform their pilgrimage and caused a lot of problems to the rest of the tribe as a result.
Saries watches over the Valley from afar and eventually detects Sarhush’s scent, prompting it into immediate action.
One moment Saries had been stalking the Desert itself, chasing mirages and dunes made of glass and sea in order to strengthen its progeny once more.
The next, reality tore asunder.
It was similar to the vision it had whilst fighting with the demon Sarhush – Only this time, it wasn’t violating Saries’ mind. This time it had a scent to it, like that of the fur of a freshly-groomed pup.
The desert landscape changed. What had once been sand suddenly turned into dirt and rock and moss and grass and trees and birds and nature. It was beautiful.
And suddenly, Nature made noise.
“I am the Patron of Nature,” declared a voice like the morning spring breeze, coming from a hole in the ground. From that hole emerged a small, unassuming snake, a snake that slithered up Saries’ foreleg. “I have come to you in these Never-Known Lands, God-Beast of Nature, to warn you of the coming apocalypse.”
Saries shuddered. The snake’s slithering felt unpleasant on its skin. Still, it was curious. Saries had already attacked one Patron before, why would Nature risk its safety by appearing before It now?
“The Beastbane, the one that is called Sarhush-” Saries growled at the mere mention of the name, a fire lighting in its chest. Nature recoiled at the violent rumbling, nearly dropping from its perch around Saries’ shoulder. “-means to empty the seas! Civilization countenanced this madness, Glory urged it, and Cataclysm exalted it! And even now, Sarhush conspires with another great demon!”
Saries perked up. The very idea was ridiculous – Sarhush wanted to drain the oceans? Why? How? When?! Did he have the faintest idea what such an act would result in? Just thinking about it made Saries sick.
Nature continued, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.”
Saries remembered the suffering it had felt when the forests burned, the unwarranted pain and loss of life had been nearly unbearable. This would be on a completely different level. It would be-
The vision distorted – The grass burned, the skies choked with smog and ash. Fire rained from above and rivers of flames devoured all there was. Animals ran, plants withered, and finally, the earth opened up below Saries and swallowed it whole. It closed in and crushed Saries with all its weight. Muscles tore, bones broke, eyes popped.
And suddenly it gasped and found itself in the desert again.
“Cataclysm thanks you, God-Beast Saries,” Spoke a voice like the breaking of glass, off in the distance, echoing in the mirages it had been chasing for what felt like a lifetime. The mirages which now were vanishing. Saries’ voice caught in its throat. Had it been misled? By one of these lesser Spirits? “Your Offspring will make for an enjoyable showing in the coming purge.”
Saries pounced with all its strength – shooting towards the Glass Dune in the distance – but when it reached it, it was only sand. Mundane, uninteresting sand.
Saries paced for a moment, and then howled. It was a frustrated howl that echoed across the emptiness of the desert.
II
Saries wheezed. It was getting tired again, it could tell. It had taken on an avian form some time ago, after its canine form became too exhausted to run. Now, its wings started to shake and it was getting difficult to maintain altitude.
It did not know how long it had been since it began the journey back. Hours, days? It did not want to endure so much death again – It couldn’t. So it moved as fast as its body could carry it, and switched into different forms as appropriate in order to minimise rest.
It was approaching familiar lands. In the distance, Saries could even see the shoreline where it had spilt Sarhush’s blood.
And then it happened. It did not need to see it to know it had begun. It felt the panic and disorientation of thousands upon thousands of little lives at the bottom of the ocean. It felt how they had been swept away and how, desperate to cling to life, they struggled to find shelter or escape from the vortex that was taking all that they had known. Many died well before being taken into the Underworld, but some had the unfortunate fate of surviving long enough to be crushed by pressure, or to be impaled onto sharp stones in the caverns.
Saries’ heart skipped a beat every thousandth death. Then, its breathing became shallow and quick. And when the dizziness hit, it fell from the sky.
A creature of such a size does not fall gently or gracefully. It crashed through the treetops, crushing everything in its path and finally coming to a stop against a great boulder in the middle of a valley.
Saries’ ichor coated the stone. Its joints bent the wrong way, bones jutted out from the skin, and blood flowed freely from its mouth. And then came the convulsions. Every wild spasm sent Saries’ blood splattering across the clearing, painting trees, grass, and watching animals with the sacred ichor.
A flock of birds, having watched their progenitor’s fall, rushed to it. Some of them were even brave enough to try and calm it down, either stomping on its chest or back or simply chirping loudly at it. This made no difference. The convulsions continued. Saries’ eyes, glazed over, could barely even see what was going on around it. It felt like every pore in its body was on fire.
When the birds got tired, the mammals who had been watching switched with them and tried to comfort Saries in their own way. Then the reptiles, then the insects, even the plants seemed to stretch their branches towards it and grow more comfortable under it.
For three days and three nights, Saries convulsed at the foot of the Boulder. And on the fourth day, it stopped moving.
Little by little, the exhausted animals who remained at its side, approached and inspected it. It was alive – Wheezing, bleeding, badly injured, but alive. And before their very eyes, its wounds started to mend.
Satisfied, the animals finally left to go back to their own lives, and allowed Saries its rest.
But the Patrons remained, invisible but watching nonetheless. Nature, the snake, looked at the magnificent amount of God-Blood that had been spilt all over the Valley. And with a single bow of its head, the blood was consumed, and Nature left.
“I, in friendship, will strengthen your Offspring. Your blood will ensure a catastrophe of this size never happens again.”
III
Between caring for the God-Beast, foraging for food and medicinal herbs, and simply staying safe whilst the sky fell and the earth cracked, the youngest twins of the Accord of the Boulder had had a rough week.
What had started as a pilgrimage to the Sacred Grove very quickly ended up with them not only meeting the God-Beast itself, but actually caring for it. The twins – or more specifically, Sirele – had been hesitant to call the entity they’d found a God, of course, but there wasn’t much she could say when her twin brother, Jiva, pointed out how quickly the beast’s wounds were mending. Honestly, when you can clearly see bones rearrange and tissue stitch itself closed in front of your eyes, can you really doubt you’re in the presence of something greater than yourself?
And so it had fallen to the Twins to protect and care for the God-Beast for as long as it needed them.
It had now been quite some time since all its visible wounds healed. Not even bruises remained, and its breathing had become deeper and much calmer.
It was a strange thing. Their father had always told them stories of the God-Beast ‘s majestic wolf-like appearance, as if it had descended from the night sky itself, but the creature that lay unconscious in front of Sirele right now looked like a gigantic hawk instead.
Curious, she poked the beast’s beak.
It stirred.
Wait, it stirred?!
“Jiva! JIVA!” Sirele shouted as she tripped and fell backwards onto her butt. Almost immediately, her brother Jiva came out of the woods, club in hand. Their eyes met. “T- B. G-G-G…” When Sirele failed to make a sound beyond gagging on her words, she pointed at the stirring God.
“It’s waking up?!” Jiva dropped his club and ran to Sirele. He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to stand her up, but her legs felt like blades of grass. “El, c’mon, give it space!”
Sirele gulped and tried her best to simply scoot backwards, but then something caught her eye.
“Wait! Look at it-” Sirele pointed at the God-Beast again. It continued to stir, eyes now blinking open. It looked around, wobbling as it did so. “Something’s wrong, it looks…”
“Lost?” The Twins spoke the word at the same time.
And so the God-Beast looked at them, and upon looking at them its eyes softened, and it lay its head back down without taking its eyes off them. To Sirele, it felt like it was trying to say something, she could almost hear it.
Jiva, who earlier in the day had butchered their latest catch in preparation for meal time, turned his back on the God-Beast and grabbed the chunks of red meat off the stone he’d used as a worktop, and threw them closer to the God. The God-Beast watched intently, and after a few moments ate the offered flesh.
It was after it ate the offering that the God-Beast’s form changed. It no longer was a grand hawk, and was now a wolf like in the stories that the Twins’ father loved to tell around the fire, with a pelt that glittered like the night sky and as tall as the trees.
Sirele watched, jaw agape, eyes transfixed on this otherworldly beast. She’d never seen anything like it before – Not even the Blue-Crested Tormentas back home – with their innate control of the weather and their ethereal, buzzing feathers – compared.
It was clearly not a threat, Sirele realized. The God-Beast didn’t look angry. If anything, it looked pleased. Happy, even! She let a small smile show on her face and stood up on still-shaky legs. At the same time, her brother walked up to her side, just in time for the God-Beast to gently lower its head.
“I think it’s asking us to pet it.” Sirele whispered to her brother, who looked at her like she was insane.
“Did you take a dip in the Malefic? No way!”
“No, no. I’m pretty sure it is!” Sirele urged and started to reach for the top of Saries’ head, only for Jiva to grab her just before she made contact.
“No. Way.”
Just before Jiva pulled away, the God-Beast did a little jump forward and forced both their hands onto its head. And once their hands had made contact, there was no stopping.
Sirele nearly lost it right then – The fur felt like what she imagined clouds felt like, and the sparkling lights lingered on her hand in between each pet. But the more they pet the God-Beast, the more that the feeling of comfort spread. First it reached up to her elbow, and before she knew it, it felt like her entire right arm was engulfed in the gentle warmth of a bed on a rainy morning.
When she looked at the God-Beast’s eyes and saw them shut, she realized she’d been glowing, and so was her brother next to her. The light dissipated soon enough, but it left behind a gift – Along Sirele’s right arm, it left a marking spanning from the tips of her fingers all the way to her shoulder, consisting of spiraling lines and soft curves in a white hue. And along Jiva’s left arm, it left a similar marking, but with sharper, thicker lines.
The moment they withdrew their hands from the God-Beast’s head, a vision flickered in their minds. That of a man-God with a stern face and worn hands, with a stench that inspired nausea and a quickened heartbeat, with a voice that grated the ears. But suddenly, from amongst the garbled noise in the vision, a single word rang true.
‘Saries’
“... So that’s your name? Saries, hah?” Sirele pat Saries’ head one more time, before it lifted it out of reach, and nodded.
Sirele looked at Jiva, then back at Saries. The God-Beast tilted its head, it did not understand what the Twins were thinking.
“Dad is gonna be so mad!” Jiva sighed.
IV
Saries’ Ichor, which had been shed by the bucketful during its Fall, had painted vast swathes of the Valley of the Boulder, and most of that Ichor had been infused into the very ecosystem by the Patron of Nature. The plants, animals, insects, fungi, and any living thing that came into contact with that Ichor suddenly found itself more deeply connected to the world. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and suddenly they were able to do things that had been impossible before.
Nature, in its vast wisdom, had called upon all its nascent alliances with other Patrons and beseeched them, for it needed them to bless Saries’ progeny so that they may have a chance at surviving what was brewing under the surface.
And so, hundreds of Patrons rushed to the Valley of the Boulder whilst the God-Beast was still unconscious, and infused some of its progeny with their blessings and in the process, changed them.
Not all were changed, only some. And those that belonged to that minority soon found their bodies changing along with their spirits. Those blessed by the Patron of Water found new instincts related to water instilled into them and found themselves able to manipulate water within certain parameters. Those Blessed by Fire found themselves aflame and craving heat. Those Blessed by Shadow learned that they were able to hide from even the apex. And there were many, many Patrons who flocked to that Valley at that time, and the mark of the Patrons on the land, aided by Saries’ spilled ichor, spread.
Saries finds itself out in the Never-Known Lands - these are lands so far away from anything that they will never be known by humanity. It is there because it has been hunting one of the Patrons that caught its attention, in an attempt to continue strengthening its Offspring.
Whilst it is trudging through a desert, chasing after mirages and echoes, Saries gets visited by the Patron of Nature, who warns it about the coming apocalypse orchestrated by Sarhush and Khthon. Before Nature can finish relaying information, however, Cataclysm interrupts and reveals that it was the one that Saries had been chasing - It had purposefully lead it far away from the Known Lands to prevent it from being able to return in time to stop the apocalypse.
Saries rushes back as quickly as it can, but it takes days to even see familiar lands. At that point, the cataclysm begins. The moment the oceans start draining, Saries begins convulsing.
It falls from a great height whilst convulsing, breaking most of its bones and showering blood and gore all over the Valley where it fell. Even after it hits the ground and splatters against a Great Boulder in the center of the Valley, it continues convulsing for three days and three nights. During this time, animals care for Saries by physically comforting it or attempting to heal it, and bringing it food that goes uneaten. During this time, the Patron of Nature infuses Saries’ spilled Ichor into the living beings in the area, then calls forth many other Patrons to bless the creatures so that they may better survive the cataclysm. This results in a great number of animal species becoming intimately connected to Ideals, and thus being able to perform Ideals magic on some instinctual level, as dictated by their Patron.
On the fourth day, Saries stops convulsing, and soon after it is found by a pair of Pilgrims from the Accord of the Boulder, a nearby tribal society.
The tribal Twins care for the unconscious Saries for days even whilst the sky falls apart and the earth splits. Eventually, Saries awakens and blesses the Twins with the Mark – A tattoo that manifested on their arms and allows them to communicate with Saries (and other beasts), and vice versa, via a kind of telepathy which allows each party to feel what the other feels, memories included.
The Twins learn Saries’ name, and then the post ends.
CONVICTION SPENDING:
Starting Conviction = 3
Saries spends 2 Conviction (Surreal, Extreme in-domain action - Divine Gift) to infuse a minority of all living beings (minus sapients) with a permanent link to a single Ideal, via a blessing granted by any one Patron at the request of the Patron of Nature. This permanent link results in new species evolving that have innate control in very specific ways over their Ideal, as dictated by their Patron. For example, a Shadow Bunny species could be innately able to hide in the shadows cast by tall grass, or a Fire Wolf species could be innately capable of controlled self-immolation in order to purge disease and foreign bodies. Of course, very rarely an exceptional animal could appear that would have more powerful abilities than normal after having caught the attention of their Patron. In a sense, this blessing simply allows animals permanent access to a wild type of Witchcraft.
Saries spends 0 Conviction (Lucid, In-Domain Actions - Divine Gift) to grant the Twins the Mark, which allows both parties to understand each other via a type of telepathy that relays feelings and memories. This Mark also allows the receiver to communicate to mundane and magical beasts in the same way.
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