The God of Tragedy had a lot of work to do as they sat within their barren realm.
The dealings with the great mage to the south had been dealt with, she had been given their boon, and Neiya’s as well, though they were still unsure of how good that was. To the north they had found another great actor, though she was still inexperienced they felt she could accomplish much, especially if she ever met that lost father of her’s.
But, there were still other issues, Ha-Duna had become ever embroiled, Neiya and even that ever vigilant Cadien had dipped their hands into the war, and Yamat was sure they could not sit idly by any longer, lest the alliance they’ve built come knocking upon their door. Their beast in the north was still wandering around without direction, eating and killing as it pleased. Their avatar kept with the child of Cadien, directing her ever closer to their grasp, their child races continued to build themselves up, and throughout it all, the Grand Play continued.
Yet, they were still not ready, they knew that, they had seen what some of the other gods had become, powerful with a variety of powers under their belt, Neiya herself was the perfect image of this, becoming something far more than that goddess of love that had drawn Yamat to her that long time ago, how they missed those times.
Yamat shook their head, recollecting could occur another time. For now, they had to focus on the present and the Grand Play, they could feel another power drawn to them from all their actions for tragedy. It would be another perfect addition to their repertuar.
They sat within the wasteland of their realm, slowly raising their arms, the runes covering their body glowing ever so softly as they conducted their silent song. This one was more quiet than the desolation they had gained earlier, and they had to admit this one was, comforting in a way, its softness entering into them as they conducted. Until, it settled in amongst the others, another neat little addition to the talents of the Grand Director.
Finally, they stood, the dust flaking off of them as they slightly shook. They walked a ways through their realm, passing by a few of the ruins that dotted the hollow wastes, monuments to their great play lightly or densely covered in soot and ash. Many were long distant memories, some of which they could barely remember or even recall, so many tragedies happened daily that it was hard to keep track.
But yet, ideas still came to them, as they slowly came upon their great map situated upon their twisted wooden table their gaze drifted southward, upon the isles they believed were called, Mydia. They had some interaction with those massive islands, as some of their reshutian children lived amongst them, but, the sentient mortals were not what attracted their eye this time around.
Instead, another, smaller piece had drawn the attention of the god of tragedy, an animal of sorts, they walked upon four legs, with brown fur with spots all along them, they were canine like but not fully canine, and then, there were the laughs, the laughs drew Yamat in, their natural call was like a cackle, a noise so similar to their own laugh. They were enamored. The other gods had special animals and creatures of their own, why not them? Yamat loved these creatures, and so, he would take their design and nature, and create a beautiful herald of tragedy in their image.
First, he started with the base creature, which he quickly came to know as a Hyena, then, he increased their size, making them larger and stronger than before, they gained three eyes on either side and wicked horns, two more legs in between their others, longer tails with a vice like grip, their fur became black and white, with long stripes instead of spots, though some spots could appear based on the individual and finally, came their laughs.
Yamat made their laughs greater than before, they sound like the laughs of a thousand different voices, ones that overwhelmed those who would hear it, it would bounce around within their head and eventually drive them into madness if heard for long enough, the laughs serving to warn all those who have the misfortune of hearing them that the work of the Great Director has begun. They were perfect.
With their creation finished, Yamat gathered them up and scattered them across the Galbar, landing some packs in Toraan, Mydia, Kubrajazar, and other realms. They would be sure to have an impact soon enough, their cackles ensuring the mortals would not soon forget the actions of the god of tragedy, if they knew of them of course, but no matter, another great day of work for Yamat.
They sat back in one of their wooden chairs underneath the twisted canopy of their realm, once more staring upon the map, their strength was better now, perhaps, it might be time to deal with that little Ha-Duna situation, perhaps they should speak to one of the gods involved? The goddess of the moon would be an interesting talk, or perhaps their old friend Thaa, but, that could wait, for no, they would just sit back, and enjoy the show.
It's everyone’s favorite tragic boi again! Just sort of sitting in their realm, thinking upon recent events and deciding their next move, after talking a bit about how some of the gods have changed a whole lot, they decide to gain their final tragic port: Decay. After this they come upon Hyenas in Mydia, and is inspired to create the Thousand Voice Hyenas, their personal heralds who induce madness with their laughs and cackles. With this done they ponder getting involved with Ha-Duna again, but decide to sit back for a bit more.
Start: 5mp/5dp 3mp-Buy decay port 2mp-Create the Thousand Voice Hyenas, larger hyena like creatures who’s cackles sound like a thousand different voices that induce madness into those who listen to it for long enough(about 3 or so minutes) 2 points towards Madness End: omp/5dp
The two reshut stared each other down, their eyes locked beneath their masks, pure malice and hatred hidden beneath. Then one made the first move, his fist flung forward, launching a streak of magical energy towards their opponent, who dogged it with expert grace, performing a somersault to escape the reach of the deadly blast.
Their dance began, but it was not a dance of ceremony or joy, but one of death, each one utilized their acrobatics and martial arts to their advantage, creating bolts of fire and erupting the earth beneath them, their loose forms and stances allowing the mana to flow through them, or so they believed. The two were mages of the Reshut, trained in the deadly and often majestic arts of their clans. And all around them, a battle raged.
Two clans fought, bronze and iron blade clashed against one another, reef horses carried warriors effortlessly through the swamp and rocks of their homeland, allowing them to strike down those below them, archers rained down fire while crossbowmen loosed their deadly and effective bolts, trained Kre’Nasha crashed through enemy lines, their ever shifting forms creating a whirlwind of death and destruction, the multicoloured blood soaked into the mud and streams, staining them with the tragic dye even as the rain tried to wash it all away.
This battle had no name, the two sides cared not for one, they merely wished to end the other, but in time it would be given a name: the Saisho no hibana, the first spark. For the two clan daimyos did not realize it at the time, but this battle, the first of its scale and size within the isles, would spark the collapse of the fragile peace the Reshut clans held. The great clans would learn of this battle in time, but by then, it was too late to stop the collapse. Already clan alliances had been called, rivalries resurgent, and spheres of influence challenged, the era of peace was over.
The Sengoku ichizoku, the era of the warring clans, had begun.
Nearly a month after the spark.
Tategawa, Kinoshita Lands
A calm breeze blew.
Narikazu overlooked his great city from the balcony of his palace. The letter had arrived barely a week ago, but its contents would stretch out years in its consequences, maybe even beyond his own life? He could feel age slowly encompass him as he looked out at his city, the city he and his ancestors had built up, a shining beacon within the Isles. Now, it was threatened with war.
Alliances had been called, some clans upon the edges of the Kinoshita sphere had become embroiled in the conflicts closer to the center of the central isles, incursions from outsider clans, something the Daimyo could not just overlook, lest his rule be seen as weak. Yet, the Kinoshita were not truly fighters, they were builders and priests, they had known a period of great peace since their foundation, as he thought the Daimyo grew ever more worried of the future of his clan.
The Hashimoto were sure to take advantage of this new state, already their nature of being disconnected from the main isles aided them, but with the chaos unfurling, they were sure to cement their stronghold. And what of the Ohta? They would surely play off multiple sides, buying and selling weapons and arms, protecting trade routes with their horrid vroolish allies. No, he could not allow them to grow, the Kinoshita needed to respond full force, to show that they were not just going to let the reef jackals descend upon them.
“Takemoto!” He shouted. The sounds of rushing footsteps were heard behind him, until the paper door to the balcony was opened, with Takemoto, his eldest son standing there. The prince was already wearing his armor and wielded his blade, when he had gotten word of the letter, he was the first to encourage a response of might.
“Summon the Generals, and inform the couriers to send messages to every lord, they must gather their armies with the winds of Kalaru,” Narikazu spoke, quickly turning to his son. “The Kinoshita are going to war.”
Takemoto bowed deeply “Of course father.” was all he spoke before exiting, closing the door behind him. Leaving the aging daimyo all alone once more.
Narikazu looked to the sky, a thousand doubts and worries entering into his mind. But this was no time for that. He had chosen, and history would remember him as such.
Okumaki, Hashimoto Lands
The Hashimoto prepared for war.
Forges roared with searing fire, weapons of war were crafted as quickly as they could be, Soldiers trained in large fields on foot or upon the great Reef Horses, the mighty Kre’Nasha were trained to fight against armoured opponents, food was stockpiled and even the common reshut could feel the tense feeling rising in the air.
Hashimoto Korekatsu knelt upon his cushioned throne, a massive table with a detailed map of the isles stood in front of him, and all along its length sat both his generals and some of his sons, eagerly debating and discussing strategies and preparations.
The rising tide of war had not skipped over the Hashimoto, they were skilled and well known masters of the blade, but even they could not stop war from reaching their shores, though they were sure to accept it. The central war would not affect them currently, it appeared merely to be alliances of minor clans, and possibly the Kinoshita, but that did not mean other clans had not become emboldened.
Several minor clans beyond Hashimoto rule had gathered together into an alliance and sought to dislodge the great clan from its holdings. They called themselves the “Grey Mask Alliance”, a name that made Korekatsu’s blood boil, for all it reminded him of were those heinous Red Mask bandits that he had spent so long crushing, now it seemed another group needed to be crushed underneath his boot.
“My lord?” The voice brought him out of his thoughts, he jerked his head upward, seeing the faces of all those in front of him staring directly at them. The one who had spoken was Katakura Terumasa, a skilled general who had served alongside the Daimyo in the wars against the Red Masks.
“Yes, what is it?” The Daimyo replied, looking upon the map to see if anything had been changed while his mind had drifted, gods he was getting old.
“We believe we have all come to a decision.” The general gestured to the map, where several yellow pieces had been laid out and their movements marked in regards to grey pieces, representing the two forces. It was a simple plan, utilizing Hashimoto’s natural skill at the blade and martial combat to press the main force of the Grey Masks, while having smaller forces flank and try to mop up some of the seemingly more weaker clans. Simple, but effective.
“I see, is there anything more then?” The Daimyo asked.
“There is...one more thing,” The general’s voice wavered a slight moment before continuing “Who shall lead the main force?”
The question was as well entirely simple, but it spoke magnitudes. Traditionally the Daimyo led the main force, but, in asking this question, the General, and all around him, expressed their concern, and more importantly, their doubt, in his age and abilities to lead. This made Korekatsu’s blood boil even further, the, arrogance of his old friend asking this!
“The answer is simple!” He fiercely responded, making his sons close to him drop their heads to avoid eye contact. “I! Shall be leading the main force to crush these insolent fools! I! am the Daimyo of this clan, unless you all have forgotten that!” His piercing gaze shot around the table, forcing even Terumasa to lower his head in shame.
No voice spoke up to disagree.
“Very well then,” He continued, the fire in his voice still not subsided. “Gather your forces and ready yourself, we shall march within a week!” With that, he waved his hand, the generals and his sons rose, scattering off into the wind to gather their forces. Leaving the Daimyo to simmer by himself. Such arrogance, such disrespect. He would be sure to show all of them, the glory of the Hashimoto was not over.
Enkoshi, Ohta Lands
A Daimyo was dying.
Ohta Yasukuni laid upon his bed, he wore the great garb of his clan, and his mask had been removed, so all could see his face. Around him stood his family, his wife and many children, beyond them he knew the doctors stood nearby, in case anything happened, but Yasukuni knew they would not be needed, he could feel death coming for him, and it would come lightly.
For all his works crafting trade and deals throughout the isles, he could not have avoided old age, and he knew this. His will had been crafted, his eldest son, Ohta Tokihiro, would become Daimyo of the Ohta, and at no greater of a time. Their vassals had not become involved in the great conflict in the central lands, but Yasukuni knew it would come to them regardless, no matter how much the Ohta tried to stay neutral, they would inevitably need to fight.
“Tokihiro” The old daimyo rasped out, his voice growing hoarse and distant.
In an instant his son, who was already standing by his father’s side, leaned in close, softly grasping the daimyo's hand. “What is it father?”
“Dire times are coming my child, the drums of war call in the distant, and I fear we can not avoid them this time, you must prepare yourself, steel your soul, gather your forces and generals, and be ready to fight for our clan. But...my child, please promise me this one thing.”
“Anything father.”
“Let not Ohta, Hashimoto, or Kinoshita strike another down, let not the rivalries of the great clans tear them apart, for if we allow such anger and rivalries take hold, we shall never end this growing tide of war, and we shall all falter. Use the connections I have built, I know you do not like the other clans, but we can not allow our isles to become one of rivalry and hate, please, promise me this.”
The prince nodded, his eyes tearing up ever so slightly. “Yes my father, I will not disappoint you.”
The daimyo nodded, gently squeezing his son’s hand, he slowly looked upwards, before softly closing his eyes, his breathing swallowed, until it fell silent. Tokihiro rose, now Daimyo of the great clan of the Ohta, tears welling up behind his mask, but he could not allow himself to cry. He raised to his full height, and quickly exited the room, he summoned courtiers to begin preparations for conflict, to summon generals and lords, and most importantly, to get him some quill and ink.
While he had to first ensure the Ohta would not falter, he had letters to write. He had made a promise to his father, and he would not let the Great clans rip themselves asunder in their anger. Yet he knew, it would not be simple.
First, we tell the brief story of the Saisho no hibana, the first spark of the Sengoku ichizoku, the era of warring clans that threatens to collapse the old order of the Reshut amongst the Kylsar isles. We then once more head to the three daimyos of the great clans: The Kinoshita, Hashimoto, and the Ohta. Each one dealing with the ramifications of the growing conflict, each one taking to it a different way. Kinoshita Narikazu is uncertain, while his son is eager to show his might in conflict. Hashimoto Korekatsu buts heads with his generals as his age begins to show, even as enemies knock at their borders. And finally Ohta Yasukuni lays in his bed, passing away, informing his son that he must not let the three great clans fight one another, lest the entire isles fall. The Sengoku Ichizoku has begun, and the isles are kindling, ready to burn.
The board had been laid out, various pieces stood about its massive size, masked figures of various colours upon a collection of isles, a mighty city with various bug and goblin pieces around it, a mighty tree, and even mightier temples to the far west, each piece delicately crafted and placed, but two areas had caught the eye of the Great Director.
To the north, in those mighty highlands, there stood a city. They had long ignored it, focused more upon their children and their great enemy, but now, it had drawn their eye.
Just recently, they had felt a shift within those lands, their old companion, the god of death, had seemingly begun to mess around with those beings, and now the civilization was embroiled in a civil war, one that the god of tragedy could not just ignore.
But yet, they were unsure of which side to support, while yes they had worked with the god of death and enjoyed his more, interesting, thoughts, there was still the problem of various other gods supporting the opposing side, and they had no desire to alienate others who could be useful to the Grand Play at a later time.
Meanwhile, to the far south of that realm, there stood another city, undergoing great conquests with a strange magic user at the head. Admittingly this would not usually be enough for the director to notice, but what they did notice was the magic user’s actions, they were horribly tragic, and they loved it.
Of course, if the director was going to get involved they would need to consolidate their powers, for a while now they had felt their powers growing, expanding,
That beautiful power of destruction was one of their more favorites, unleashing great fires, earthquakes, the like, it was truly a beautiful endeavor upon their part. They could feel its essence wash into them as they focused. Their bones creaked as they stretched themselves out, feeling more whole than before.
Now, with that finished, at least for now, they redirected their attention once more to the board, ah, yes, those strange druids to the north, they still did not know who to support, and, to the south, they figured a gift of some sort would be good to give that tragic mage, maybe even their old companion Neiya might want to get involved? Though, they were unsure on how she felt about other women, that would take some thought.
For now, a walk would be needed, plans were forming, but for once, the Grand Director was unsure on how to proceed, perhaps, a nice little walk would draw them closer to the answer. And so, with a jaunt in their step, the God of Tragedy took another of their walks.
Yamat is baaaaaaaack! Ruminating on the conflict in Ha-Duna and the actions of good old Auriëlle, they decide its about time to expand their powers, snatching up Desolation and deciding they should go on a nice little walk, perhaps run into another god in the meanwhile, here’s hoping.
Start: 5mp/dp 3mp-But the portfolio Desolation End: 2mp/5dp
The Travels of Ina Hikohira-Section 1: The Beginning
A week after Tiamat’s Arrival
Hikohira walked through the streets of Tategawa, the designs given to them by that strange newcomer Tiamat had been incredibly useful, but yet, ensuring the ship would be perfect was taking time, which admittingly annoyed Hikohira.
She had found herself in the docks again, she could see the construction of the ship a bit of distance away from her, this time though, it seemed they had made a good deal of progress, that was interesting. She decided to go investigate.
As she drew near she saw a new face, a lanky male reshut darting around the construction site, barking and giving orders, looking almost like an utter maniac. His utter devotion to the construction seemed to embolden his workers and they moved at twice the speed as they were before.
As Hikohira drew closer, the new face looked up, almost beaming when seeing her. “Ah!” He spoke “Lady Ina! A pleasure!” He quickly jogged over to her, extending his free arm, as his other was wrapped around various scrolls and parchments. “Okazaki Narikuni, at your service.”
She took the outstretched arm and shook it. “A pleasure to meet you sir Okazaki, I don’t think I've seen you on this team before.”
“Yes, I was a recent hire,” He replied “I had some ideas on how to construct the boat and the Daimyo hired me on, would you like to see?” He gestured to the scrolls still wrapped underneath his arm.
Hikohira merely gestured to a nearby table “Show away.”
Narikuni almost jumped at the opportunity, rushing towards the table and laying out all his scrolls and plans. They were intricate and honestly impressive, using the recent plans given to them by Tiamat and making them even better, there were several improvements to the design and structure, some which Hikohira could understand but others seemed completely alien to her.
“Tell me sir Okazaki, where did you learn all this?”
He paused for a few moments, seemingly pondering the question “Well, I served as a shipwright here for the Kinoshita, one day I was investigating the designs for the ship when I gained a sudden, burst of inspiration, I gained all these ideas and designs and I just had to jot them down and show them to the Daimyo, and, when he saw, he hired me as lead shipwright.”
She looked beyond the shipwright towards his crew, they seemed to bustle with a stride and pep she hadn’t seen before, working far faster then they had before. While she was still a bit unsure about the validity of these sudden inspirations, if it ensured the expeditions could occur sooner, then she would have no problems with it.
“I see, in that case, I shall leave you to your construction, I wish you the best.” She bowed to the Shipwright, who had quickly returned to staring at his various designs and giving orders to his workers. Though she had only a scant amount of time to turn around and head back the way she came before she spotted another intriguing sight. Before her, a good distance away, was what appeared to be a contingent of Hashimoto troops, adorned in the orange-yellow colouration of the clan and being escorted by the Red troops of the Kinoshita, at the front stood one of the Kinoshita Princes, walking alongside what appeared to be a Hashimoto lord.
As soon as the Kinoshita spotted Hikohira she gestured her over, introducing her to his companion as she drew closer. “Lady Ina! I am glad you are here, this, is Prince Hashimoto Hidetoki of the Hashimoto Clan, he has been sent by his father to help us with the expedition.”
The Hashimoto prince stepped forward, bowing to Hikohira “Greetings Lady Ina.”
She returned the bow “A pleasure to meet you Prince Hashimoto, and why has your father sent you so far for this expedition?”
“Well, I am one of the, younger, Hashimoto princes, I wished to gain some of my own glory free from the shadow of my brothers, and so,” The prince gestured towards the contingent of troops behind him “I gathered some troops and mercenaries we could spare, and got my father’s permission to come here, to offer Hashimoto protection to your expedition.”
Hikohira’s eyes widened underneath her mask, Hashimoto protection? To have the finest masters of the blade aiding her expedition would be most useful, she doubted few within the mainland could match up to the power of the Hashimoto skill. “Well,” she finally spoke, “I'm sure the Kinoshita and I would be most accepting of having your skills aboard the ship.”
“Of course” he replied, bowing once more, “Shall we head off once more?” He asked, directed towards the Kinoshita prince.
“Lets, oh, and Lady Ina, the Daimyo wishes to see you, apparently we’ve had another guest offering aid to the expedition.”
Hikohira sighed, this was shaping up to be a busy day.
When she arrived to the palace, she found a very interesting sight, sitting down within the Grand hall was the Daimyo and across from him, a fairly large Vrool, they were not the biggest Hikohira had seen, as an Ohta she had seen quite a few vrool before, and by the looks of this one, she believed they were the spawn of Taa, the local Vrool tyrant who kept trade across the Kylsars safe.
“Ah! Lady Ina! Come in!” The Daimyo shouted upon her arrival, gesturing for her to take a seat at the table with them, which she did. “This,” he gestured to the Vrool across from him “is Tagroxagrus, he has arrived with some Akua retainers and offered some sea-bound protection to our expedition.”
The vrool bowed towards her “A pleasure Lady Ina, once I heard of your expedition I jumped at the chance to assist, any good seabound adventure deserves some good Vroolic aid!” He loudly boasted, earning a good hearty laugh from the Daimyo and Hikohira.
“I would most certainly appreciate your skills Sir Tagrox, having the might of the ocean would surely aid us.”
Tagrox nodded, and once more went to downing large quantities of Sake. Hikohira decided to stay and partake in the dinner, talking with the Daimyo and Vrool, figuring out pathways towards the mainland and a base idea for the expedition. She could already tell, this would be an interesting adventure.
Two and a half weeks after Tiamats Arrival
The docks of Tategawa was abuzz with interest and celebration, the great expedition ship, Bōken-sha, had been completed, mostly with the aid of the new shipwright, thousands had come to see it off on its maiden voyage towards the mainland. The crew had assembled just in front of the ship, a hundred various crew, about 20 of the Hashimoto contingent, 10 Akua, 1 vrool, a Hashimoto prince, a Kinoshita Inventor, a Kinoshita Prince and retinue, a strange traveler, and of course, the Ohta captain.
Tanehira stood right next to Tiamat, waving towards the assembled crowd as the Daimyo spoke to them, uttering a grand speech about the ship bringing a new dawn upon the Kylsars and the Reshut people. The prince leaned towards Tiamat “Quite the celebration isn’t it?”
Tiamat kept her hands down, taking effort to look an accompaniment rather than a central focus; as she whispered back to the prince, “Indeed. This is a momentous occasion, and it seems your father wished to ensure it would be celebrated as such.”
“Well of course, the three great clans coming together to conduct an expedition to the mainland? It's an incredible prestige gain for the clan.” He whispered back, somewhat side-eying the Hashimoto prince, who stood just next to Narikuni, the shipwright.
Tiamat did not deign to look over, whispering, “So long as the bottle he seems intent on drowning himself in remains filled.”
The prince chuckled to that “indeed”. Their conversation was interrupted when a large cheer erupted from the crowd at the conclusion of the Daimyos speech.
“Now!” the Daimyo spoke high above the crowd “The crew shall attend to the boat, and set off for new lands!” Another cheer erupted from the crowds, and Tanehira patted Tiamat on the back “Shall we head to the boat?” it was mostly a rhetorical question, as much of the mainstay crew had already surged up to the ship, ensuring everything was in order.
She chuckled, saying back, “As if they’d dare to leave without us,” as she began to walk towards the boat, letting the prince go first.
He chuckled to that as well, heading up the ramp leading up to the boat. It was beautifully well designed, the construction done by the Shipwright making it an incredibly well designed ship. Large sails and a well stocked storage ensured the ship would be a perfect ship to sail the open seas.
Suddenly though, as the two arrived upon the decks, a sudden burst of water occurred from just next to the ship, and in an instant, an oceant had found itself upon the deck of the ship, the crew and crowds immediately fell silent, stunned at the sight. The creature looked around at the crew, its large antenna jittering and moving about, a few minutes of silence, before it brought itself closer to the front of the ship, climbing upon the front mast, and with a sudden strange force of power, transformed itself into a rearing figurehead for the ship.
A few more moments of silence washed over everyone. Before sudden cheers erupted from the crowd and crew. “Well I’ll be.” Tanehira finally spoke.
Tiamat walked to the front mast, examining the figurehead, announcing, “Surely a sign that the ocean deep approves of our passage.”
“Not only that!” Spoke the sudden appearance of Narikuni, who had quickly jogged onto the ship “That my dear traveler, is an Oceant! And its arrival upon our ship means its design has been blessed by Aritafek!” The shipwright looked almost ecstatic at the revelation, taking a place next to Tiamat to gaze upon the figurehead. “And surely a beautiful figurehead at that as well!”
Tiamat respectfully dipped her head at the mast, responding to Narikuni, “I am honored to take a place upon the vessel blessed by Aritafek. May this prove to be a prosperous journey!”
A cheer erupted from the crew in favor of Tiamat’s statement, finally the Hashimoto guards and Captain Ina joined them upon the ship, the Vroolic scion and Akua readied themselves at the watery sides of the ship. Ina began giving out orders to the crew, preparing the final preparations of their journey. After a while she walked over to Tiamat, beckoning her over. “So tell me Tiamat,” She said, “As our resident passenger, where do you wish to make landfall? So we can drop you and the prince off to allow you to partake in your adventure.”
Tiamat considered the question, answering to Ina with a nod of her head, “My destination lies at the heart of the mainland, inaccessible from any seafaring vessel. The shores we land upon shall make no difference to me, and I will leave such decisions in your capable hands.”
“I see.” Ina nodded, “Our Akuan assistants tell us that beyond the far lying island of Senshu stands a region of swamplands, we shall try to land in the more southern portion to bring you closer to your destination, but I can only promise we shall do our best.”
Tiamat dipped her head, reassuring, “I will find my way no matter where you choose to land. The stars above will be my guide.”
“Very well.” She bowed towards Tiamat, once more returning to her duties. After a few more brief minutes, everything was ready, and with the blessing of the Daimyo, announced by the smashing of a bottle of Sake against the hull. The sails were unfurled and the anchor raised, allowing the ship to leave the docks as the crowds on the mainland cheered. The Bōken-sha had begun its voyage.
It had been a few days of travel for the Bōken-sha, reaching the isle of Senshu, the westernmost isle of the Kyslars. In the crew cabins below deck, Tiamat had reserved one for herself. Her accommodations were sparse; spartan at best. A few candles, arranged along the edges of her desk, a bronze carving set, and a conspicuous lack of bedding. She had kneeled in front of her desk, upon it a chunk of wood, taking shape as she whittled upon it with a bronze knife. Though it was only half-carved, it bore a distinctive shape, deep grooves cut inwards, thick teeth extending out in between.
A bin held the shavings whittled off, each slice of the knife launching wood chips with precision. The roll of the ship in the ocean waves deterred Tiamat not one whit; she worked with the slightest of movements only the calculations of those not human could reach. Her arm remained perfectly balanced against the world’s attempts to throw her off. A silken curtain covered the entrance to the cabin, offering privacy from onlooking eyes.
A soft knock came from the cabin door, and the soft voice of Prince Tanehira came through “Tiamat are you there?”
Tiamat did not stop whittling at the wood as she spoke, “Come in.”
The door slowly opened, and the prince stepped in, upon seeing Tiamat at her desk, wood in hand he stepped back a slight bit “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
The whittling continued as she responded, not looking away from her work, “I can carve and talk at the same time, if you desire. It is no issue to me.”
“I see” he slightly bowed and fully entered the room, closing the door behind him. “If I may ask, what are you carving?”
She carefully placed down the carving knife, taking the wood in both hands. With a turn to face the prince, she presented the half-complete carving with its distinctive toothed shape. She answered, “I am carving a gear, a symbol of my worship.”
“A gear?” The prince kneeled down a bit to get a full look at the carving “I must admit I am not familiar with the god who you worship, we Reshut only deal with our four central gods.”
Tiamat nodded, “As I am not fully familiar with the workings of your gods. The gear is the symbol of the Great Machine and the Constant. Consider it like this;” she paused, “the world around us is consistent. We are pulled earthwards, the wind upon the seas blows predictably. Our lungs are filled with air, and the sun rises and sets. These are all things that are constant. They are laws of Galbar and the skies above it that are immutable and were the same for our ancestors, and will be the same for our long-futured children.”
She took the carving knife up once again, carving as she explained, “That is the Constant. The physical world that surrounds and permeates us, that we take a part of and can rely upon the consistency of. The Great Machine is the embodiment of the Constant. The crossbows your men now use are a machine as well. Smaller parts that add together to a greater whole. The Great Machine is the small mechanisms and parts of our world, working to a greater sum, personified.”
“I see,” Tanehira spoke “so the Constant is that which is always the same, and the Great Machine is those small parts working all together?” His voice was slightly confused, this being the first god beyond the Reshutian four that he had ever heard of.
Tiamat shook her head as she carved, continuing, “The Constant is about shared experience and observable law. If the stars were never the same, you could not learn to navigate by them. If water was not always pulled earthwards, your children would not understand your references to the ocean. Without these immutable laws, progress would be impossible. The Great Machine is-- he -- is all these little parts, yes, but he is more than just a machine. He is a sum greater than the parts that define him. He willed himself into existence when the stars were young and gods had not yet begun to mould the lands.”
The prince paused for a brief moment, taking in all the words of Tiamat. He knelt there for a long pause. “I, I think I understand, your god seems quite, in depth and intricate, of course I mean no offence from that.”
Tiamat counseled the prince, saying in a comforting tone, “He is esoteric. The peoples of the land do not understand him. Worship of him is quiet, reserved, and not often shared. You will find none other who worship him until we reach our final destination. You need not understand fully now; he is complex and he is unknown. It will take time.”
“Well, I hope to come to understand him in time, learning of other cultures and beliefs is most intriguing to me.” He stared at the carving Tiamat was creating, before his head shook a slight bit, as if suddenly remembering something, “Oh yes, I originally came to ask, once you are finished of course, if you wished to come topside with me? Get some fresh air, the captain says we should be passing the edge of Senshu shortly.”
Tiamat had worked her way to the last tooth of the gear, decisively whittling off the final outcrop. Cradling the gear in her right, careful to hold her left palm flat against the back of her right hand, she stood up, leaving her carving kit arrayed neatly on the desk, saying, “A good idea. Let us go.”
The prince stood as well, opening up the cabin door and leading Tiamat into the lower parts of the ship. Even then they could see various crew members walking about, some partaking in card or dice games, others performing various pieces of work, some eating. They walked through the lower decks, some crew rose and bowed as the prince passed them, but he would often encourage them not to. Eventually they found their way to the steps leading topside, the bright sun filtering in as it stood high in the sky.
On the top deck things were far more bustling, crew went back and forth, manning their various stations, some attended to the sails while others attended to the back of the ship, aiding the steering with the rudder. The duo could see Captain Ina speaking to one of the Akua, who was pointing up on a map laid out between them. Narikuni was barking orders to the crew, ensuring they were performing their duties correctly, and the Hashimoto prince, Hidetoki and his troops stood by, just in case.
“Quite the busy ship.” Tanehira commented.
She didn’t immediately respond, walking to the bow of the ship, standing center with the mast as she held the cog against her chest, careful to maintain the placement of her hands. Then, she sang.
“Oh, there is a flash packet, Flash packet of fame. She hails from Tategawa And the Bōken-sha’s her name. She's bound to the west, Where the stormy winds blow. Bound away in the westward, To the Bōken-sha we'll go. Derry down, down, down derry down.”
She started off quietly, only a tenuous soliloquy among the racket of work. The tradewinds, unfavorably eastwards, began to slacken -- though they did not die off.
“With the gale at her back, What a sight does she make. Our skippers are merry With the west in her wake. Her sailors like lions Walk the decks to and fro, She's the Kinoshita packet. Oh, Lord let her go! Derry down, down, down derry down.”
Her voice slowly grew in volume, though it continued to be drowned out by the din of sailors and their duty. The east tradewinds halted, the ship deadening in the water as everything becalmed. Shouts of sailors as new demands were levied of them to maintain the momentum.
“Now the Bōken-sha's a-sailing The Deeps so wide. While the high roaring seas Roll along her wood sides. With her sails tight as wires And the Oceants to show. Bound away to the Bōken-sha, To the westward we'll go. Derry down, down, down derry down.”
Her voice was growing in intensity as she gripped the wooden cog harshly, pressing it heavily into her chest, crumpling her silken robe against the force. The oceans sat placently as the tides refused to batter upon the vessel.
“Here's a health to the Bōken-sha And to all her brave crew. To bold captain whee! And her officers too. Talk about your flash packets Swallow Tail, Oceants. The Bōken-sha's the flayer Can out-sail them all! Derry down, down, down derry down.”
Her voice reached a crescendo of volume and intensity, as the tradewinds returned in a gale of strength, pulling the ship westwards with a jerk against all reason. The sails were blown taut as they drank in the deep currents of air that forced onwards.
The crew of the Bōken-sha were shocked with the sudden wind change, the crew scrambled to reign in everything and ensure this sudden shift of wind in their favor could be utilized. Captain Ina and Narikuni rushed to get everything together, and the Akuan jumped into the ocean, to gather their associates.
Tanehira walked up to Tiamat, “That was your doing wasn’t it?”
She loosened her grip on the cog, saying, “Not mine, but the Great Machine’s. My lord listens for his prayers and grants his miracles upon his believers.”
The Prince nodded “Well, I must thank the Great Machine for this, it will most certainly aid us in arriving at our destination quicker.”
She finally brought the cog down from her chest, still cradling it carefully, “He is generous and he is kind. It would be no other way.”
“Of course, I am definitely happy we have you to ensure his kindness comes to us,” He looked upward for a few moments, “Now then, shall we have a nice walk? I’d like to hear more of this Great Machine.”
Tiamat acceded, stepping down from the bow, saying, “Ask and I shall answer.”
It had been a few more days of smooth sailing, the winds granted to the Bōken-sha by the Great Machine had greatly accelerated their progress towards the mainland, until, as the sun rose above the horizon, the lookout shouted.
“Land ahead!”
The entire crew and those within the ship rushed to the upper deck, and sure enough, still a good distance’s way off, there were long stretches of land. Captain Ina had come to Tiamat, asking “So, do you know what the mainlanders call this stretch of land?”
Tiamat walked to the front of the ship, looking out to the golden strips of shore that lay ahead. She said, “The mainland does not always descend into bogs that muddy the transition from sea to land. That is a beach. Set anchor a ways out, and row in with dinghies. The sandbars will entrap the ship otherwise.”
“Very well.” The captain barked orders to the crew, wiping them back to their posts and jobs. They quickly scrambled to get everything ready for their arrival upon the mainland. The ship drew closer to the beach banks and eventually dropped its anchor, stopping its travel closer. Captain Ina readied a few dinghies, allowing the Hashimoto troops, Tiamat, Prince Tanehira, and herself upon them, to gauge the land itself.
Their Vroolic aid soon joined them, helping them along to the beach. With a grandeur Captain Ina stepped off the Dinghy as soon as it hit the shore, taking in the grand view, far beyond her she could see the beginnings of a great swampland.
“Looks a lot like home doesn’t it?” She spoke to those behind her, with many of the Reshut giving a chuckle.
Tiamat looked across the stretch of swampland, commenting, “It stretches farther than any of the isles.”
“Well” Hikohira spoke, looking far beyond the swamplands, before finally turning towards Tiamat, “Do you know what the people of the mainland call this land?”
“From what I know, it is the Weeping Plains,” Tiamat responded, as she looked out westwards into the swamp, “I will be going westwards, into the highlands.”
“I see,” She muttered the name underneath her breath, before turning once more to Tiamat “And the Prince Kinoshita will be joining you correct?”
Tiamat responded, still looking westwards, “And his retinue, indeed.”
“Of course” She motioned for one of the troops to come forward “Inform the retinue of the Prince that they shall gather up some supplies and come to us at the beach.” The troop bowed, and returned to the dinghy, to gather the retinue.
“So,” The captain spoke “Where do you plan on going?”
She tore her gaze from the westward sky, looking at the captain, saying, “I wish to return to the courts from whence I once lived. It has been long, and I yearn familiar faces.”
“I see, well, I hope the endeavor is successful for you, I know the young prince is eager to see the lands beyond, as am I, our plans are to head north, towards the top of the mainland, anything you know of there?”
Tiamat answered, “There are some woods to the north of the marsh -- quite a dark place, from what I understand.”
“Hmm, we shall try to avoid those then, beyond some taking notes and maps.” She looked once more towards the Weeping plains as a long pause washed over the two. Eventually, the dinghy returned, this time with the Hashimoto soldier and a small retinue of the prince, two guards, a few attendants loaded with supplies, and a scribe. Prince Tanehira quickly got them updated and gathered his things, coming to Tiamat’s side.
“So,” He asked “When do we head off? I’m eager to see these new lands.”
She straightened her posture, returning her gaze westward as she said, almost absentmindedly, “As soon as you are able.”
“Well,” The prince spoke “If the Captain is willing to let us go?”
Hikohira chuckled “Well, I guess this is our parting moment then,” She turned to Tiamat and the Prince’s group, “I wish you all the best of luck, and Tiamat,” there was a slight pause “Do try to return the Prince in one piece.” A small muttering of “I can handle this” came from the prince.
Tiamat bowed towards the prince, saying, “If anything, he shall ensure that I return in one piece.”
Hikohira chuckled, “Well, in that case, I still hope we may have our paths cross once more, but, I am keeping you too long, me and the others should return to the ship, and you all should get your own adventure underway.” She bowed towards them all “May the gods bless your journey.” She spoke, before ordering the others to ready the dinghy to return to the ship.
We begin in the streets of Tategawa with Ina Hikohira, captain of the Reshut expedition to Toraan, she meets up with an interesting cast of characters that’ll serve as her main crew: Okazaki Narikuni, a shipwright and inventor, Hashimoto Hidetoki,a young prince of the Hashimoto clan, and lastly Tagroxagrus, spawn of Taa the local vrool tyrant. Jump to the day of the Maiden voyage, with Tiamat and Prince Tanehira joining up with the fairly large crew, the Daimyo gives a speech and everyone starts preparing when suddenly, an oceant appears! Walking upon the deck and becoming a figurehead for the ship, the Bōken-sha, which as Narikuni and Tiamat guess, means the voyage has been blessed. We have a brief scene of Tiamat whittling a block of wood with the image of a gear, until Tanehira appears and gets some explanation about the Constant and the Great Machine, which he kinda gets after a while. The two go topside and see that the winds are turning eastward, hindering the expedition, with a song and prayer Tiamat gets Enmity to change the winds westward and keep their progress forward. Finally we reach land! The weeping plains, it is here where Tiamat, Tanehira, and his retinue get off the ship, and after a brief talk with Captain Ina, the two groups part, Tiamat and the Prince heading west, the Bōken-sha heading north to the Highlands.
Artifex, with his blessing Bōken-sha, the exploration ship. 2 free titles from Ships port
Cut through the waves I: the ship's outer hull is incredibly smooth, reducing drag and friction and increasing speed.
Float your boat I: The ship is remarkably buoyant, allowing it to carry 25% more mass (cargo or crew) than other ships its size.
Enmity -1dp: Manipulate the wind currents to create a westerly wind.
High up in the World Anchor mountains, an enormous cave opening led into the deepest, darkest dens of stone - the infamous home of Thunder the Cragking, self-proclaimed regent of the mountains and eternal enemy of humanity. In his crystalline cavern of rock and iron, he ruled alongside his two mighty sons, Prince Crush the Great Maw, and Prince Quake the Scourge of the Hills. Years had passed since the acquisition of the Shades of Eternal Night, but the dovregubbes took their time in testing them - they needed to make sure they were completely safe to travel outside the darkness, even under the glare of the sun. In their experimentation, they had also laid their plans for the expansion of the Trolldom - their dream as the most powerful descendants of the first trolls - including the first troll.
They had drawn up a map on the floor of their massive cave - it revealed to them the lands they had taken so far, as well as the lands they would take in the coming years. They feared no resistance - in fact, the villages they had taken so far hadn’t resisted at all. Usually, the mere sight of them was enough for them to surrender unconditionally. No, resistance was never an issue.
The issue was simply taking enough villages. As their primary source of food, they couldn’t shy away from claiming as much land as possible, as well as the people living on that land. The livestock they herded, too, was extremely valuable. Word travelled fast, however - if they were seen early, the villagers would escape before they could be caught. They would need smaller allies - scouts and skirmishers who could find them their targets and help them sneak up on them before the villagers got wise.
So it was then that the Cragking turned to his son Crush with such a slow twist of the neck that one could practically hear the stone, earth and moss growing on his joints turn to dust. “Crush, my lad,” he rumbled. “Your journey today wearing the legendary sunshields - what did you discover?”
“Well father,” Crush slowly walked himself towards the map, pointing to the center mountain of the anchor. “I have discovered the location of all those large shakings that do a number on our gardens, a massive sword is stuck up there causing all this nonsense, i’d go up and get it but the path up is too small for a troll, we’d have to get one of our servants to go get it.”
“Bloody hell, that’s a sword doin’ that?!” Quake thundered like his father would. “Been buggin’ me for nigh a thousand and five hundred years, those bloomin’ quakes.”
“You can say that again,” Thunder rumbled along in agreement and interlaced his fingers with an ear-shattering grind of stone. “You said, uh, wossname, servants, Crushy? What’d you have in mind?”
“Uh, well, We get one of them hummies and send ‘m up there to go pull it free, if it a good sword, we take it, if not, we let them handle it.”
“Issit really that easy?” Quake mumbled skeptically and gave his chin a sandpapery scrape. Thunder snorted and sucked on a granite tooth.
“Would save us a lotta trouble if we got rid’a them quakes, aye. Where did we last put them pinkies?”
“We et them, dad,” Quake pointed out with an erect index finger. The Cragking growled in disappointment.
“That tends to be how it goes, huh… Oi, Crushy!”
Crush looked up towards his father “Wut is it dad?”
Thunder pointed a tree trunk finger at the Shades of Eternal Night, enshrined as they were on a neatly shapen stone pedestal in the back of the room next to the kettle and the stone shelves with all the mugs and bowls, which were also, for a lack of creatively selected materials, made of stone. “You’re on scoutin’ duty today. Put on them shades and go out to find us some humies so we can remove that bloomin’ sword and find my turnip garden under all the rubble, finally.”
“Da, we’re growin’ potatoes, not turnips.”
“They’re too small - my eyes don’t see the difference no more!”
Crag rose, giving his dad a slight salute “Aye! You can, uh, count on me pa! i'll save ur garden from dem shakies.” He walked over to where the shades were positioned and lightly put them onto his face. Heading out from the cave to find himself some hummies.
He walked through the mountains they called their realm, he had to admit walking out when that fierce sun was shining was nice. What wasn't really nice was getting lost in the mountains, which Crag had to admit happened a bit too much.
As it had just happened now, while he had not been walking long it was clear he didn't quite know where he was going, oh well, he knew where the sword was, just needed to find some hummies. He descended down from the rocky mountains into the forested foothills.
As he walked through the dense forest, he eventually found himself in a small little clearing near a hill, where a large opening had been carved into it, inside he could see a small group of ranglefants, sitting around a pot with a fire growing underneath.
“Oi! ‘ello there!” He spoke, waving his hand to the gathered group. Four moss-grown heads with hair flowing down to the ground and noses like coconuts turned to face the giant, all of them covering their wide mouths with their enormous hands to gasp.
“Bloody ‘ell, izzat a bloomin’ dovregubbe?!”
“By Funder, I fhink et is, bruv - oi, Shane, you gotta come see this!”
Another head poked out of the cave entrance. “Bloody ‘ell, whagwarn?” muttered the newcomer with a rub of the eye. Then he caught sight of the giant and rubbed them again. “By Funder!”
“‘S wot I said, that.” Then all of them lined up shoulder to shoulder and offered sloppy salutes to Crush, as though some ancient instinct told them to obey him by nature. “Oi, welcome ta Down-Below, bruv! Wot you doin’ ‘ere?”
“I, uh, am Prince Crag the Great Maw, son of Thunder the Cragking!.” He loudly boasted, pointing a thumb at himself, boasting both him and his father’s titles. “I’m here to find some hummies for a mission, who are u all?”
The ranglefants looked at one another, each more slack-jawed than the next. “Son ‘a bloody Funder!” boomed them all and clapped their massive hands triumphantly. Another one continued:
“We’s the Down-Belows - been livin’ down below for, uh, for a while. I’m Chester; tha’s Shane, me bruv; wife ‘ere’s Sharline; that’un there’s me ol’ nan, Beff; ‘n finally, there’s lil’ Enry, my lil’ boy.” Despite his very clear distinction of both genders, age and relations, they all looked just about the same - the older ones were slightly larger than their youngers and had more pronounced moss and mushroom colonies in their hair and on their shoulders. Chester gave his coconut nose a full-forearm rub. “You’s lookin’ fo’ ‘umies, izzit?”
Crag did his best to try to associate the names with all of them, he just hoped they didn’t quiz him on it anytime soon. “Aye, im lookin for hummies, need em to go up a mountain for us, that being my pa, my bruv, and me of course, we wanna stop the big shakkies going on here, u all know any hummie nearby?”
“The big shakies?! Where?!” howled Beff and hid underneath a nearby rock. Shane went to collect her with a sigh while Sharline raised her hand. “Yeah, there’s humies nearby - ‘bout half a night’s stroll, uh, that way.” She pointed vaguely northwards, though it was hard to tell if she actually meant that the village was to the north, because she kept making alterations to the direction. “Say, uh…” She pointed to his head, which, to their surprise, stood taller than many of the surrounding trees and was as such showered thoroughly in the setting sun. “... How the bloomin’ ‘ell is you not turned to stone by now?!”
Her family squinted in on her observations and all dropped their jaws in equal bafflement. “By Funder, bruv, you’s standin’ in the middle’a the sun! Dive, mate, dive for cover!” urged Chester.
“Wut?...Oh, ya.” Crag had sort of forgotten that was a thing. “Don’t wurry about that, see i got these glasses.” He pointed up to his face, where the glasses sat. “They keep me from turning to stone in de light.”
“... Bloomin’ ‘ell…” mumbled Enry before being smacked upside the head by Sharline.
“Enry! We don’t curse in this ‘ere bloomin’ ‘ouse’old, izzat clear?!”
Enry rubbed his sore head in defeat. “Yes, mum.”
“There more’a them?” asked Chester the giant.
“Unfortunately not.” Crag responded, showing a slight disdain at stating that. “Wes only got the one, that's why me bruver and dad aint with me.”
“Agh, bloomin’ ‘ell…” growled Chester and gave his disproportionately small head a rake with a disproportionately large hand. “So, uh… You need’ny ‘elp catchin’ those ‘umies?”
“I’d be mur than happy to accept ur help, we just need one hummie, one agile enough to walk up the mountain and grab de sword.”
“Just one?” offered Shane with a bit of a limp neck. “But I could go fo’ a snack.”
“Yeah, da - uncle wanz a snack! Can I get one, too?” pleaded Enry.
“Who said snacks?!” blurted Nanny Beff.
“By Funder, Shane, you got ‘em goin’. Fine, guess we all goin’,” muttered Chester and looked up at Crush. “Follow me, bruv.” The five of them then headed northwards in a line from the tallest, Chester, to the shortest, Enry, their long hands all dragging along the forest floor like field plows.
Crush followed, standing just to the left of the line of the others, keeping an eye out. On their way he spotted a fairly hefty log on the forest floor, which he decided to pick up, just in case he needed to threaten anyone or beat them senseless. The ranglefants made sure to stick to the shadows - while it was setting fast, the sun was still out and threatened to blister their skin. Sharline approached the shrubbery at the edge of the village and jogged back to Crush to clap him on the calf. “Oi, humies’re over there - village over there! What you want us ta do, man?”
Over yonder, there was indeed a small village, a collection of five huts and a barn, with a population so conveniently blind to their approach that one could wonder whether the Shades of Eternal Night also hid Crush’s presence. It could’ve also been the tree cover, for all the trolls knew. What was important, though, was that they were there, the humans, and they hadn’t picked up on their scent nor presence yet.
Crush did not recognize the village, obviously they had managed to avoid the Cragking’s rule. “Allow me.” He spoke to the others, he rose to his fullest height, giant log in one hand resting upon his shoulder. “Hummies won’t expect Crush in daylight, make em big scare, grab ‘volunteers’ be easy.”
He slowly walked towards the village, making himself look as intimidating as he could. Almost immediately, he was seen, and those who had seen him actually took a moment to rub their eyes, pinch their arms or ask out loud: “Am I dreaming?”
When it was very, very clear that they weren’t, they threw their arms in the air and ran around like headless chickens, screaming their lungs out. Crush just walked around, grabbing up what appeared to be the strongest and most agile of the humans, slinging them across his free shoulder, he then used his log and smashed it against two fleeing humans, sending them flying with a nice snap. He dropped his log and picked the two others up, deciding he had gotten what he needed; he headed back to the ranglefants.
Placing the two humans he had smashed down, he looked at the family “dis fur u, a thanks fur, uh, leading me to dis place.”
“Woohoo! You’s the best, bruv!” shouted Enry. The other four salutes their gratitude while slowly beginning to encircle the two corpses. All did it but Chester, who put his fists on his hips and looked up.
“So, what’s you goin’ ta do now, huh? Just head back?”
“Now, I head to center mountain, get hummie to grab sword, den head back to me pa and bruder,” He looked down at Chester, who he had to admit had an endearing factor to him. “Iv u want, uh, i could convince me pa to let u and ur family into our kingdom, we could use smaller trolls like you.”
Chester thumbed his chest humbly. “Why, wouldn’t tha’ be somefhin’! SHARLOINE!”
“Whaaaaat?!” came a full-mouthed response.
“Crush’s invitin’ us ta move up top!”
“Well, why ‘aven’t you said yes yet?!”
“Gettin’ to et, woman!” Chester looked back up at Crush and raised a thumb. “We’re in.”
Crush raised his own thumb and let a big toothy grin form on his face “Perfect, i’ll, uh, let u and ur family get ready, imma go get sword from mountain, then i be back, lead you up to mountain, ya?”
Chester offered him another erect thumb as his family dragged the corpses further into the woods. “We’ll get our stuff. Be back soon!” With that, he waddled happily after his family.
Crush waved them away, as soon as they disappeared into the forest, he began to reorient himself, which took, some time. Eventually he had managed to return himself to the main portions of the mountains, off in the distance he could see the massive central mountain of the Anchor. It took him and the human still struggling on his shoulders quite some time to reach it, but they did. Crush could see the thin and haphazard stone steps leading up the mountain, and the sword shoved into the top. There was also a sign but Crush couldn’t read it so didn’t care. He set the human down, pointing up the mountain.
“Go get sword.” He ordered.
The human, a young woman with long black hair and terror dirtying her every inch. She eyed the sword, then the surroundings, and then looked back to Crush. Her frozen lips could barely speak. “C-can I go home i-if I do?”
Crush shrugged “Dun’t see why not, if Crush no like sword, Hummie also gets to keep.”
The girl sniffed weakly and shivered her way over to the pedestal. With frozen hands, she reached up and grabbed the sword, pulling and pulling until she bent forward in exhaustion. “It-it’s stuck! I-I’m not strong enough!” she wept. “Mommy, daddy, Cory, I wanna go hooo-ooome!”
With those words, and a final weak pull, the sword came loose, almost like it was never stuck in the ground in the first place. The sudden loosening of the blade sent the woman off of her feet and tumbling down, but luckily Crush was there to catch her with his large hands, slowly setting her down, he looked at the sword in her hand.
“hmmm, sword very blocky, not nice looking, Hummie can keep it, too small for Crush anyway.” He motioned for her to follow him, “Lead back to village, Crush have business there.” The girl, unable to respond due to emotional trauma, hitched a ride wordlessly.
Once more they got back to the village, by now Crush was beginning to get a bit tired, but figured he could have a nice rest soon enough, he dropped the woman off near her village, close enough that nothing bad would happen to her surely. Then, he retracted his steps into the forest once more, and with a bit of trouble found himself back at the home of the ranglefant family, who were waiting inside their home.
“Oh! glad to see u again!” Crush shouted out towards them “Sword job done, wez can head up the mountain to my home.”
The ranglefants clapped their hands eagerly. “Woo!” yelled Shane and threw his arms into the air with such momentum that he nearly lost his balance. “Is there snacks to be et up there, too?!”
Crush smiled once more “eyup! we got dems snacks, and wid ur help, we can get even more snacks!” He drew closer to the hole they called home, slightly squatting to bring himself closer to the ranglefants “need any ‘elp carrying anything?”
“Not much ta carry, but fhanks,” offered Sharline. Indeed, only Chester and Shane actually looked to be carrying something, Chester holding a skin bag of something over his shoulder and Shane carrying a bundle of old clothes. “When’re we headin’ out?”
Crush looked up at the sky, seeing the sun dipping below the horizon. “De sun is setting, safest time for us to ‘ead up to cave, shouldn’t be too much of a walk.”
“A’right, bruv, you lead the way! We’ll be right behind you.”
With that Crush turned back towards the mountains. As the sun descended upon the anchor, he led the ranglefant family back up towards mountains, ignoring the sudden signs of destruction nearby that human village, through the rocky crags and valleys, leading them up a path deep into the heart of the mountains. Soon coming upon a great opening leading deep into a stone den, home of the Cragking.
Crush entered into the home, ranglefants in tow, with a loud and victorious stance. “I’ve dun it da! sword is gone and i’ve even brought back friends!” he gestured towards the ranglefants behind him.
The moss-grown giant twisted his head ever so slightly to behold the newcovers, his neck crackling like a rush of cravel. There came a long, long hum and then he opened his mouth as though his jaws had rusted and grown slow. “Ranglefants!” he boomed and the family of five lined up at the shoulders and saluted him.
“We’s ‘ere ta join up! Crush ova’ there said ‘was aright.”
Thunder leaned down to inspect them further, causing an avalance of dirt, moss and stone to roll off his shoulders and down on the ground. “My, I haven’t seen your kind for almost a thousand and half years. Thought you was all been outwon by them pinkies.”
Chester and Shane both scoffed. “Outwon?! Now listen ‘ere, gov’. Ranglefants may not be as tall and strong as your lot, but by Funder, ‘re we survivors!”
“Survivors!” echoed Shane and nanny Beff, the latter looking to do so someone deliriously, adding a “where am I” at the end.
Shane continued, “We’s ‘eard you’re makin’ a fhing around ‘ere. We wants in. Ain’t leavin’ ‘til we get ta join.”
Thunder rubbed the sand out of his eyes and looked up at Crush. “Where’d you find this lot, ey, Crush?”
Crush turned towards his father, having placed the glasses back neatly on their pedestal. “Uh, i fund ‘em down in de highlands, de’ ‘elped me find some hummies to get the sword with, i figured they’d be helpful in scouting and stuff, what being smaller den us and having some knowledge beyond the mountains.” He move next to the ranglefants, his own stone form creaking as he walked.
Thunder hummed again for an awkwardly long time. “A’right. Our two kins was friends once - long, long ago. If they can help us found the Trolldom, they’re welcome aboard. After all, no troll’s got a brotha’ like anotha’ troll.” He reached down and extended an index finger, which Chester shoved Shane aside to shake. “Call me king Thunder.”
Chester’s eyes were glistening at this point, and his family all shed proud tears in their sloppy salutes. “‘Tis an honour, gov-- I mean, Ye Majestay. Name’s Chester ‘n this’s my family. We’ll do right by ya - any friend’a Crush’s a friend’a ours.”
“Well, I’m the king, so I’d hope so.” Thunder offered Crush a knowing look. “Now that we’ve got some scouts, what’s your first mission for ‘em, gen’ral?”
Crush immediately beamed at being called gen’ral, he slowly marched towards the great map drawn into the floor “Well, i wus think’n we send ‘em to ‘ere.” He pointed towards the northern portions of the map “I ‘member you saying de north wus home to our kin da, if we figure out more dere, wes could gather more trolls to us.”
“The NORF?!” sputtered the king with such force that one could wonder whether the sword had been removed at all. “No! Nuh-uh, you know we hate it up there ‘n whatever -is- up there is nothin’ but dead. No, we got no bis’niss in the norf.”
“Yeah, norf’s bad, gen’ral,” offered Shane quietly, kicking at a pebble on the ground.
“Very bad. Lotsa mean storms and junk. Snow. Snow for days. No food,” nanny Beff continued with a thousand yard stare.
“Hear, hear,” mumbled the king thereafter.
Crush shrank back a bit, “Ah, didn’t realize dat, in dat case,” he move his hand more southward to the more closer regions of the mountain, “Maybe wez head only slight norf? dem big realm of hummies could be a threat, knowing more would ‘elp uz in case we need to defend ourselves from ‘em.”
“You means that, uh, wossname…” The mountain king scratched some trees of his head. “Humie place up norf, right? That one?”
”Ketrefa”
The king made a face. “Huh, now that takes me back. Sure, why not. Good suggestion, my lad.”
“Uh...da, I didn’t say that, neither did Quake or the Rangles”
“Oh, ‘course Quake didn’t say it. He’s out huntin’!” He looked down at the ranglefants, all of whom shrugged defensively. “Well, if you’s didn’t say it, who did?!”
”I did” suddenly, a plume of dust and soot swirled at the entrance of the cave, taking the form of a strange lanky figure, long arms, a strange faceless, face, and a variety of other items. ”Greetings Cragking.” The figure bowed, showing a sign of respect to Thunder sitting on his throne.
“By Thunder!” thundered Thunder, and the ranglefants reached deep inside and found an instinct to hide in the darkness, scattering to the winds. The king leaned forward to inspect the creature, his usual snail-like movements hastened with surprise. “Whot in blazes are you?!”
”I, am a god, and a new friend,” The figure stepped forward slightly, their movement smooth and graceful ”Your son here has impressed me, managing to rid my earthshaker sword from its peak, and, avoid the horrid curse all the while, I think that deserves a reward to him and your kingship, does it not?”
“Wait, that thing was cursed?!” Thunder thundered again. “How did I not see this comin’... Did you know this, Crushy?”
Crush shrugged “I ‘ave to admit dad, i didn’t, de sword wus too small for us, so i let the hummie keep it.”
”And,” the figure spoke ”In doing so you have ensured that village will suffer that curse for eons to come, while this kingdom reaps its rewards.” It chuckled ”I couldn’t have thought of a better ending myself.”
Thunder smacked his lips. “Well… Better them than us, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right, gov!” came still-quivering voices from the shadows.
Thunder smirked. “So, you said a reward, wossit?”
The figured chuckled ”I suppose its time to give them, for your son” The figure raised its right hand, a swirl of energy came forth, wrapping itself around Crush, who was thoroughly spooked by the whole endeavor, before it settled softly into him ”He shall hold an aura of leadership over those deemed, misfits, of the human realms, your kin, my children, and others, befitting his title as, Gen’ral.”
The figure then turned towards the king, ”As for you oh great Cragking, I think its about time you got a crown.” He raised his left hand, a swirl of stone and dust gathered into it, forming a crown that, to the trolls was perfect, but to others would be described as janky and odd. The figure walked up to thunder, kneeling and presenting the crown. ”For you, no curses mind you, I am a fair director.”
Thunder clapped his hands eagerly and kicked his legs, which had barely moved for a thousand years. He flicked some trees off the top of his head, accepted the crown greedily and placed it upon his head with a broad smirk. “Ah, now all’s right in the world. Gifted a crown by a god and everyfhin’. Crush, you’s done me proud, my lad. This’ll be the day the history drawin’s will say my reign began.” He looked down at the god. “Say, uh, whot’ll we call you? Them drawin’s’ll probably feature you, too, y’know.”
The figure rose ”I have many names, there are some who call me the All-Father and Yamatu, which, those who do so could prove to be allies to your kingdom in time, but, you may merely call me, Yamat, the Grand Director.” The figure bowed once more, its janky right arm shooting out, even his bow seemed janky and off putting.
“Yummit?” Thunder mumbled and cupped his hand behind his ear. “Odd name for a god. Sounds like a snack.”
“Yeah, actually, speakin’ of those…” came a hungry note from the corner of the room where the ranglefants still hid.
The figure, Yamat, looked towards those hidden ”I shall leave you be now, to deal with your subjects, may your reign prosper Cragking, I shall be watching.” with another flourished bow, the strange dust form fell apart and vanished. Crag slowly walked next to his father and his throne.
“Well, that wuz odd.” He finally spoke “When do u think Quake will be back?”
Trolls are trolling hard in the Troll mountains (Anchor, that is), and they wanna expand. First, tho, they gotta get rid of that fucking earthquake that keeps ruining their turnip/potatoe gardens (actual reason). So King Thunder sends his favourite son Crush to do something about it. The way up there ain’t safe, tho, so Crush goes downhill instead to find an expendable human. On the way, he meets the Chavs, five ranglefants who are eager to serve a dovregubbe, and with the promise of snacks, help Crush find a human village. Crush snatches three humans, one alive and two dead, gives the dead one to the ranglefants and then takes the live one up to pull out the sword. She does, and Crush returns her to her village so that she may bring eternal doom upon it as a result. That’s not important, though, ‘cuz Crush and the Chavs (dope band name) head back up to Thunder’s cave, where Thunder, uh, invites them to join? In exchange for snacks, of course. Crush says the ranglefants would make for dope spies, so Thunder lets them stay. When planning their next move, a weird voice suggests “KETREFA” and they’re like wot. Yamat’s image pops outta nowhere, congratulates them on removing the sword, promotes Crush to gen’ral and gives Thunder the Cragking Crown (the legit one). For his troubles, he is forever remembered as Yummit and the trolls forget about him five seconds after he leaves.
The Trolldom is a go, baby!
Yamat 3MP/0DP 1MP - Create hero: Crush: Gen’ral I: This legend among trolls has a natural aura of leadership of the misfits of the world, such as trolls, iskrill and other miscreants. 2MP - Create artifact: The Cragking Crown: Voice of Thunder I: The wearer of this artifact can choose to make their voice as loud as thunder. Shadow of the Mountain I: Wherever the wearer of the artifact walks, they are unaffected by the rays of the sun, as though they stood in the shadow of a mountain. End 0MP/0DP
Arngeir stared up at the golden statue, it was tall and mighty, depicting a beautiful woman, she pointed off to the distance, towards the rising sun. He sat kneeling in front of the statue, he had found himself infatuated with the woman depicted and he was determined to figure out who she was. He had searched far and wide throughout the city, finding that shiny metal, which he had learnt was “gold”, everywhere, his most coveted findings where those small golden disks, with the image of the sun displayed upon them, they were numerous but he found an interesting fascination to them.
Today, he was going to try something. He had continued to find nothing about this being, none of the older Iskrill or even the Brood Mothers had any knowledge of the woman, only that she was important for the prey that had been consumed in the Grand Feast, and so, Arngeir was going to take things into his own hands.
He had gathered as much gold he could find, arraying them in front of the statue in as nice a pattern as he could create. He knelt just behind the gold, gazing up at the woman, who he had decided to call, "The All-Mother", for she was surely a god, why would they have all these items for her if she wasn't?
He raised his hands, "Oh great All-Mother!" he shouted, casting his voice to the heavens "Hear my call! I wish to hear your voice and learn your words!"
A gentle breeze touched his flesh, warming him ever so slightly as a vague presence blossomed around him. "-you can’t nest thereeeee, stoooop!” the woman’s voice began. ”Oh, shhhhh, someone’s listening!” she gave a slight cough, clearing her throat. ”Hello ther- Woah! What are youuuuu! You’re not human, or aiviri, or uh… Anything else I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed. ”Ohhhh you look so saaaaaad too.”
Arngeir almost jumped with excitement, she actually spoke! He was right! He quickly composed himself, reminding himself that he was speaking to the all-mother “Hello All-Mother! I am Arngeir! I am an Iskrill, have you not seen my kind before?” He looked all around him, unsure of where to focus his attention.
”NOPE!” she shouted. ”Wellllll, maybe I’ve heard of youuuuu before. I dunno. Iskrill is a funny name isn’t it. Rah, I’m an iskrill!” she giggled. ”So like, what do you do for fun? Do you… Fish maybe? You look like a fisher. I’ve never fished before but it looks fun! Then again, do you think fish feeeeeel? Like, can fish love? Oh, I love! I love everybody! I’m not a fish though, for your information.”
This, wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, the All-Mother seemed, strange. “We fish sometimes, not me personally though, I've focused on gathering this gold I've found around the city, all of this is for you, correct?”
”This is… Gold? Oh hey, there’s a statue of me! I’ve never seen this one before. Hey, where are we?” she asked.
Arngeir thought for a moment, might be important to avoid the reason his people were here. “The city of Solkra! Well, at least what’s left of it, my people came upon this city during our travels, we had found it abandoned and ruined, and we’ve tried our best to live here ever since. I came upon your statue here and found myself enraptured, I wished to know more, hence why I offered my prayers to you.”
”Oh how sad!” she cried out. ”I wonder what befell the people here? Maybe I’ll… Maybe I’ll…” Her voice seemed to lull and Arngeir could hear someone chewing. ”Ahh that’s better! Oooookay! What did you want again? Something about… More? More what?”
Ya, this was definitely weird. “I just wished to know more about you All-Mother, to hear your voice so I may be confirmed in my mission to teach your word to my kin.”
”I see! Uh well… I am The goddess of Life and Love and I love life… Do you love life?”
“I would consider myself a lover of life, I have most certainly found it fascinating, you see, my people, we are, meat eaters of sorts, but we do our best to respect the beasts we eat and try to give back, like how we are trying to rebuild this city.”
”Well most things eat meat you know. Humans eat meat. Aiviri, they eat meat. Even Sylphi eat meat and they’re plants! I would know that because-” her voice died again. ”It’s so noble, trying to rebuild the city! Arn- Argne- Arngeir! Arngeir, I need you to rebuild that city, let it become a beacon of life! Do this, and I will be sooooo happy!” she exclaimed.
He paused, Iskrill? A beacon of life? This could be, interesting “I, will almost certainly do my best All-Mother! But, if I may ask, I would almost certainly appreciate assistance, there are those beyond the city who seek to destroy my kin, in fact they are the reason we are here in the first place, they could threaten our efforts here and prevent the city’s rebuilding.”
”Oh I seeeeeee!” she paused, ”You need a deterrent! Something that will stop others from messing with you guys! I know just the thing!” A ray of light erupted down from the heavens in front of Arngeir and the sound of something slamming into the rock before the statue could be heard. The light faded to reveal a large spear, with a tip of swirling solar energy. The shaft was made of some sort of white metal. ”There! A deterrent! Just wave it up into the sky and that should do the trick! I hope that helps and it makes you happy!”
Arngeir was honestly shocked, he was expecting a blessing or like some protection spells but this, oh this was great, he slowly got up, gripping the spear with his arms, slowly retching it free, gazing upon its form. “I...I thank you All-Mother! I shall not disappoint you! I, I should get to work then, I shall speak to you soon! And hopefully more of my kin shall be with me this time!”
”Okay! Beeeeee safe little Iskrill! Byebye!” and the All Mother’s presence was gone.
Arngeir rose, he gazed once more upon the spear, it was incredibly beautiful he had to admit, he just had to test it out. He raised it to the sky, In an instant a bright beam of light shot out into the sky, the weapon recoiled and threw him off his balance, but luckily the beam stopped as he fell to the ground. He lay there for a brief moment, he could see other Iskrill slowly gathering to see what all the commotion was about. He quickly rose, spear held firmly at his side, he looked upon the growing crowd, raising his free hand he shouted to them all.
“Siblings! I have heard the word of the All-Mother! Come forth! And hear what she has to say!”
The sun rose upon Solkra, as a madman spoke the words of a goddess, who had not realized what she had done.
A week later
Ykkat sat in front of one of the Brood mothers, the giant fleshy creature had the upper body of a female Iskrill like her, but that is about where the similarities ended, the lower half was fleshy and worm-like. Brood Mothers “led” the various broods within the city, but in all honestly their authority was minimal, the brood would often go about doing their own thing, but would respect the mother’s call and orders, though they were rare.
The Mother sitting in front of her, Septíma, was the last Brood Mother of the southern city, the area both her and Zerkam had started their quest to unite the city within. At first it had been slow workings, Iskrill were hard to gather together into a cohesive force, even harder to get them to create any semblance of “civilization” that Ykaat and Zerkam had been researching, the old language of the former inhabitants had become known to them after long study and it taught them many things, but that wasn’t enough.
Luckily, then came the attack from the sea, the strange creatures that emerged that day gave quite a shock to the Iskrill, who had considered themselves safe from harm and unstoppable within the walls of Solkra, as the Iskrill took to calling the city. The attack had given Ykkat the boost she needed, and now a majority of the southern city was aiding her efforts.
“So” Sepitma spoke, looking down upon Ykkat and Zerkam, who stood behind her a few feet back, “All I have to do is command my brood to join up with your project, and it shall gain the protection and combined resources of it all?”
“That is correct,” Ykkat replied “Your brood shall have access to the materials, and the flesh, we all gather, of course your own brood shall assist with this, and aid in providing protection when needed. Is that all agreeable?”
The Brood mother nodded, “Yes, I believe that is agreeable, I shall have my brood get to work very soon, they shall meet up with your other broods and aid in your construction.”
Ykkat bowed to Septima “Thank you, Brood Mother.” She rose, continuing to bow as she did. Turning back to Zerkam with a slight smile on her face. Though that smile quickly faded when she saw the serious expression upon the Servant’s face. She sighed “What is it Zerkam?”
“The preacher is back, we seriously need to speak to him.” He replied, for a while now word had reached them of a strange preacher Iskrill in the northern portions of the city, he taught the words of the All-Mother, the goddess who the city had been dedicated before the Iskrill’s arrival, admittingly he definitely had aid from the goddess, but Ykkat was sceptical of speaking to him, worried he may turn out detrimental.
“You know I would prefer not to speak to that one.”
“Why not? He could prove incredibly useful, if the other chosen are right, he’s gathered a considerable following, and he seeks the same thing as us.” In their efforts to reconstruct they had found other chosen like Zerkam, the rainbow eyed Iskrill who were magically inclined, they could speak through their minds, providing a good network of information across the city.
Ykkat sighed once more, “Fine, we shall go speak to him, but I'm not going to be happy about it. Where is he?”
“By the statue of the All-Mother, having another of his sermons.”
“Oh joy, we get to hear him preach.”
“Remember my fellow Iskrill! The All-Father teaches us our position in the world, as predators and rulers over our prey! And the All-Mother reminds us that this position is one for the dedication of life! We must aid in the cycle of existence! We must bring an end to those who consider themselves above the order of life! Bring the city from its ruined state to the shining beacon it once was!”
Ykkat and Zekram stood amongst the crowd, they both had to admit the preacher’s voice called above all, and they could see how the others had become enraptured with his voice and his sermons. Ykkat sighed, Zerkam was right, they needed his help, his ability to gather the Iskrill together and a shared goal of building up the city meant that she could no longer afford to ignore him.
The sermon eventually ended, the assembled crowd uttered a prayer to the All-Father and the All-Mother and began to disperse, off to perform their duties within the region, much like Ykkat’s southern broods the northern ones under the preacher, known as Arngeir, they were trying to build and reconstruct the houses and other builders, gather food and flesh, and various other deeds.
The duo walked up to the preacher, who stood next to the massive statue of the All-Mother wielding the shining spear he had been gifted by the goddess. Ykkat was the first to speak.
“Greetings prophet, I see you’ve gathered for yourself quite the following.”
Arngeir chuckled “Why yes I have! All in the service of the All-Mother and All-Father of course! But, who might you two be?”
“I am Ykkat, and this,” She gestured towards the Chosen, who bowed “Is Zerkam, a chosen by the All-Father, you see, we too have been trying to achieve you have, the reconstruction of this city under Iskrill management, and we came to offer a, unification of our groups.”
“I see,” The prophet slowly sat down in front of the statue, gesturing for the duo to join him “You must be those Southern ones i’ve heard about, how do you propose this, unification would occur?”
“Well, my companion has come up with an idea,” She gestured towards the chosen, who’s rainbow eyes sparkled up.
“Yes I have! I propose a shared power agreement between the three of us, Ykkat’s organizational skills and knowledge of civilization, my magical prowess and command of the chosen, and Arngeir’s authority as religious leader and prophet of the All-Parents could make a formidable force, in short, we form a Triumvirate between the three of us, using our combined powers and skills to rebuild this city and forge it a new dawn.”
Arngeir thought for a brief moment, bringing a piece of animal flesh to his mouth and chewing upon it thoughtfully. Finally after a few tense moments he nodded, swallowing the flesh. “Hierophant of the Sun, Jarl of the Chosen, Queen of the Broods.”
“What?” Ykkat asked, unsure of what the prophet had just said.
“Those shall be out titles,” He responded “I, the Hierophant of the Sun, Zarkam, Jarl of the Chosen, and you, Queen of the Broods, representing clearly our roles within this triumvirate.”
“I kinda like them.” Zerkam spoke, Ykkat had to admit she did enjoy the idea of being called a Queen, she was sure the rulers of that heinous city would detect a Iskrill referring to themselves with a royal title.
“But,” Arngeir spoke, “We need something more, just our combined authority will not be enough, and the All-Mother’s gift alone will not stop the savage wrath of the heinous city.”
“Perhaps we ask the All-Father?” Ykkat replied “The All-Mother has already given you one thing, perhaps we invoke her husband and, upon seeing that the Mother has already aided us, he too shall aid us directly?”
Arngeir nodded “That is, not too bad of an idea, come, take my hands.” He rested the spear against the statue, taking Zerkam and Ykkat’s hands into his own. He looked up towards the sky, uttering a prayer, and finally shouting. “Oh great All-Father! Hear our call! Aid your children in their time of need!”
A strange sensation washed over them, it was cold, unlike the warmth of the All-Mother that Arngeir had felt, but indeed it was not heavy, instead incredibly light and jaunty, soon, a strange voice spoke into their minds.
”Ah...my dear children, the Iskrill, what is it you require?”
“Oh mighty All-Father” Arngeir spoke “We seek to unite our siblings and bring them on par to our prey, but we can not do it alone, we wish for your aid, the All-Mother has already blessed us, and we wish for your protection as well.”
”All-Mother?...Ah! Yes, her, my apologies, I have been caught up in many dealings, but, you ask for aid? I see…” The voice fell silent for a brief moment, the three could still feel the presence, silent and watchful. ”Gather your strongest warriors around this grand statue to the All-Mother, I shall do the rest.”
And so it was done. The All-Father refused to explain further, merely reiterating the orders. The Trio gathered the strongest warriors of the Broods, those who had hunted the fiercest of prey, fought against the heinous city, or even had the chance to take down one of the beasts from the sea. They were gathered together, given the finest weapons the Triumvirate could muster, the bronze weapons scavenged from the ruins and corpses of the city.
They all knelt around the statue in a large circle, the Hierophant was given orders from the All-Father, performing a ritual that would grant these warriors grand power, blood of their recent sentient kills was drawn upon their chests and their heads, forming strange and arcane symbols. Then, a grand prayer was uttered by all in attendance.
It wasn’t a clear change, but all could feel it, the warriors felt a surge into their bodies and mind, the symbols glowed and etched themselves into their skin, shooting a searing pain through their bodies. They howled out as the pain increased, the triumvirate and their followers who had not been chosen stepped back, unsure of what was to come.
In a flash, the pain ended, the symbols sizzled still, but the howls no longer came, many of the warriors panted heavily and clutched where the symbols were. Then the voice of the All-Father rang out across the square from the statue.
”These warriors have been gifted the path of desolation, where they walk destruction shall follow, so long as they seek only the complete ruin of their enemies and their land.”
With that the presence of the All-Father vanished, and the Iskrill were left to their own devices. Arngeir immediately went about establishing the warriors, now a holy order, which with the approval of the rest of the Triumvirate, was dubbed the “Flames of the Dusk”, the elite force for the rule of the Solar Triumvirate.
With their rule now even further cemented, the Triumvirate went about their goals, in short time the ruins of the city had come under their control, while still divided the unifying forces of the entire Triumvirate managed to keep them united to begin their reconstruction, slowly rebuilding the city from the ruins of the old.
The Flames served their purpose well, used to keep the other Iskrill in line, but soon enough they began to lead efforts beyond the city, raiding the villages of the prey to remind them the terror of the Iskrill, this time though they were organized, and the prey fell under their destructive force.
They even began to figure out how to gain more supplies of flesh, merely breeding the animals that they ate when they had no flesh of their better, far more tastiest prey. A new dawn had arrived upon Solkra, the Iskrill were organizing, growing stronger, more organized. And they looked hungirly beyond their city walls, eager to grow farther.
We start up with a lone Iskrill, Arngeir, who has become infatuated with the statues and images of Oraelia, who he calls the All-Mother. He ends up calling out a prayer to her, and to his shock she replies...while completely high. They talk, having a nice little convo while Arngeri sort of ignores the fact his people eat the flesh of humans and all that jazz. Soon enough Oraelia comes to like Arngeir and gives him the mission to rebuild Solkra and make it a beacon of life, in order to help and as a deterrent against certain enemies to the Iskrill, she gives him an awesome spear that shoots out pure sunlight then dips. Next we come back to Ykkat and Zerkam who have managed to unite the southern portions of the city under their project thanks to the Vrool attack. They hear word of Arngeir and his prophet stuff going on and end up talking to him. Resulting in the three uniting forces into the Solar Triumvirate, the now acting government of Solkra. They end up also asking Yamat for help, and he blesses some of their warriors with increased destructed capabilities, pretty much making them perfect raiders/ravagers(if you don’t care for material wealth). Solkra is born anew, and the Iskrill are becoming far more powerful
Oraelia 2MP/2DP
The All-Mother’s Gift
Solar Eruption VI (2MP + 2DP = 4 title weight + 2 free from Sunlight port = 6 title weight)
What was thought by one to keep the tides at bay, often leads to more practical uses.
This spear can unleash pure sunlight in it's most destructive form. The beam is infinite and the longer it remains firing the hotter the heat becomes, turning living tissue to naught but ash and melting anything else. The weapon does not shield its wielder from this effect and the longer it unleashes the more it becomes unsteady (ie, it has really bad recoil). Greater levels only make the beam stronger and do nothing to help the wielder.
0Mp/0Dp
Yamat 3mp/5dp
The Flames of Dusk-Holy Order 5 DP-under Desolation Ravagers V: Wherever this Holy Order marches, desolation and destruction soon follow.
Actions and Attacks done by this holy order that bring about destruction has its effects increased dramatically: Fires burn longer and hotter, fortifications collapse faster, once fertile lands become barren, and enemies are ripped asunder, these effects are about triple the intensity and power than they would be for normal actions and they leave no lasting result beyond the destruction caused. This applies only when the Order seeks to completely destroy through their actions. 5p towards Desolation
Hoàng Bảo Tín walked slowly through the docks of the capital, all around him he could hear the sounds of bustling work, dock workers unloading ship cargo, captains yelling out orders, and merchants haggling prices, it was a sound he had come to know. His job? Well it was quite the important one, he inspected each box and bag of spice traveling to and from the capital, at least, in his jurisdiction, there were countless others like him, traveling up and down the docks and markets, making sure everything was up to code. Behind him followed his partner: Suratman, the small Gotran held in his hand a wet clay tablet, settled in a small tray for ease of carry, and he wielded a thin bone rod, used to write various pictures and lines to detail their findings.
Bảo Tín wore a fairly long flowing robe, as was customary of his people, the Reska, upon his head a long hood, and of course the mask he was given upon reaching 18 years of age, his bore an intricate design of the ocean, with his eye holes serving as a moon and sun looking down upon the waves positioned upon his mouth area. Suratman wore a similar regalia, his robes though were more shortcut and resembled a tunic more than anything, he too wore a mask, his instead bore a painted design that Tin had been informed was Gotran for “Meticulous”, a fitting description.
Tin and Suratman had been working together for quite some time now, and they both had learnt to hold a mutual respect for one another, relations between the Gotran and the Reska had long been tense ever since both races' surprise appearance upon the island they lived. Gotran craftyness had conflicted with the Reska’s sense of superiority. But after long years they both managed to work together, ultimately uniting to form the city of Sarapar, where the two inspection officers found themselves today.
The pair soon found themselves upon a familiar sight, a ship had recently docked and the crew had begun to unload their cargo, palettes with large bags sitting atop them, workers were extremely careful with the goods and Tin could see the symbol of the northern reaches upon them, spices.
“Greetings Kapten.” Tin spoke, walking up towards the captain of the ship, he was dressed fairly well off, jewelry was strewn about his body and his mask was painted in a bright shade of purple. Tin could already tell this would be interesting and he was sure Suratman could as well.
“Ah! Greetings inspector!” The captain drew his full attention upon the two, leaving his crew to do their work. “What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“A routine inspection, nothing more, if you will allow me and my partner here a look at some of your goods, we’ll be out of your mask.” Tin could already see Suratman craning his head towards the bags full of spice, as befitting his mask he was incredibly meticulous, he made no show of hiding his goals to gain a promotion as a chief inspector, a rare sight for Gotran but something Tin would be happy seeing.
“Oh of course!” The captain gestured towards the bags, motioning for the crew carrying them to set it down. Reaching down he undid one of the robes holding a bag shut, revealing a mass of fine powder of a bright blue colouration. Blue Fire Pepper, known for its strange colouration but incredibly kick. “2 Sharins of Blue Fire Pepper and 3 Sharins of Nutmeg.” The captain declared.
Tin and Suratman quickly went to work, they would not inspect the entire ship and its contents, that would take quite some time, they just merely undid the ropes of bags and looked to confirm the ship was bringing what the captain had declared. Both inspectors would often sniff or taste the spices, ensuring they were their proposed spice, and to ensure a level of quality, the King had long implemented quality control, hoping to build Sarapar’s image as a hub of finely crafted merchant goods and great tasting spices.
After a few minutes their work was done, everything seemed to be in perfect order, sure, the measurements might be off but that was fine, one could not be blamed for a few Palins of spice. Suratman wrote down the symbols detailing the type of spice and where they were from, and the numbers of what had been brought, meanwhile Tin returned to the captain.
“Well, it seems everything is in order, here’s the token of quality.” He reached into a bag at the side of his hip, pulling out a small clay token with the symbol of the Sarapar crown upon it, used by captains and merchants to show their goods have the level of quality so desired by the King. He handed it to the captain, who inspected it before putting it into his pocket.
“Thank ye inspectors, may Artiafek bless your endeavors.” The captain spoke, performing a polite bow.
“And may Kalaru bless yours.” Tin replied, performing a similar bow alongside Suratman. The two departed, heading down the docks once more, keeping an eye out for any further inspections.
“Nearly 100 inspections,” Suratman spoke, he had an impeccable memory, and kept track of their progress, recounting every last detail to their superiors in his quest for a promotion. The Gotran looked up at his partner “Shall we make it a challenge to break it today?”
Tin chuckled “Regardless of my answer you’ll do it anyway.” He looked back at his partner, then towards the docks, where he spotted several ships having just landed “But, I think our luck just came to us.”
Suratman chuckled “Letz give them a vizit, shall we?”
“Lets”
A short little story detailing the adventures of two merchant inspectors, the Reshut Hoàng Bảo Tín and the goblin Suratmam and some brief dealings of their trade inspected recently arrived spice, including some lore about the reshut-goblin kingdom of Sarapar.
He had been travelling through the forests for a while now, and the snow had begun to set in, it was only a matter of time before he was caught in the wilds, alone, and with no food. He had no tribe to come back to, he lived alone, his crops had failed and his hunting was poor, no wonder they didn’t want him anymore.
It was hopeless, he was going to die out here, with nothing to his name, and no one to mourn him.
He sank to his knees, his hastily constructed bow falling into the dirty snow, he cried out, begging anything, anyone to save him. But nothing came, there was only silence, it was over, not even the gods had come to save him.
Then, a branch snapped, his head was brought upward, and he saw it, a deer stood right in front of him, staring him down. His hand reached out, grabbing his bow once more, before his other one grabbed one of his shoddy stone arrows, he knocked the arrow into the bow, and fired. It went wide and the deer ran.
He was quick to follow, rising rapidly from the ground to chase after it through the dense forest, he took shot after shot, but again and again they went wide, barely even scraping the hide.
His lungs were burning, legs were beginning to give out, his arrows were running out, he just had to catch this deer, he was so damn hungry.
His fortune finally turned, the deer stumbled over roots hidden beneath the snow, he could hear the legs snap as they twisted and collapsed, this was his chance. He pulled out his stone knife and descended upon the deer, it kicked and bucked, but he stabbed and stabbed, blood gushed and flowed, his hands and face were showered in the cascade of red.
His hunger had grown too great, he didn’t even care about gathering the meat to cook, he just dug in, his hands and knife clawing away chunks of flesh before shoving them down his gullet, chewing and eating with a hunger he had never experienced before.
While he ate, the deer began to melt away, instead of a gutted animal, he began to eat from another hunter, their face plastered with an expression of fear and terror, guts spilling out from a large incision. He stopped, his own look of terror appearing upon his own face, he looked upon his hands, covered in the hunter’s blood. What. What had he done?
He slowly rose, he couldn’t return now, he definitely couldn’t return now, he had killed another Weike and...and eaten their flesh.
But it had tasted so good
He found himself drawn back to the corpse once more, he was still so hungry.
He shook his head, he couldn’t do this, what was he doing? This was, just wrong. What had driven him to do this?
His stone knife still sat in his hand, he gazed upon it, bringing it closer to himself. Grasping it with both hands, the blade pointing straight at his own chest. He thrust forward. But his own arms stopped, as if his bones could no longer move.
”Now now my dear little pet, you can’t just get out of this so easily.” A voice rang through his mind, echoing and jostling around his skull, his sight grew hazy and his thoughts cloudy ”How about you have another taste?”
The knife fell into the snow with a soft thunk, and he shot forward, his mind filled with an aching hunger, and he feasted.
As he feasted, as he shoved the flesh and guts into his mouth, he began to change. His body grew thin, becoming grey and pallid, his torso and legs grew taller and longer, stretching his height to nearly 8 feet, his hands became clawed as they dug into the guts, better ripping out the flesh, his feet became cloven hooves and unguligrade, his head grew long, becoming an elk like maw and snout with the skin ripping away, leaving only bare white bone, his eyes became predator like, and long elk horns erupted from his head, twisting and shaping as he feasted, finally his hair gave way, becoming dense grey fur that grew in haggard forms across his body. When it was done, he had had his fill of the hunter.
”Flesh….feast...eat” his voice had become haggard and monstrous. He looked around, he had been sated, but for how long?
”Now now my pet, flesh will come when it comes, for now, I have something else to give you.”
A nearby branch of a tree snapped off suddenly, its twisted form becoming even more twisted and thinner, suddenly, from its top came a metal blade, long and curved, scythe like, it was rusted and as haggard as its long handle. He felt drawn to it, slowly picking it up.
”Hunt...yes...hunt.” his mind was racing, but it had finally begun to calm down, a new purpose in mind.
”Very good my pet, now, I shall leave you for now, but know, if you are injured, you need only eat enough flesh, and that blade, for every person you strike, it shall bring disease to their life.”
He had little time to think on this before sounds drew his attention, voices, calling out a name, those of his former people. He felt the drive of the hunt once more, this, this he could get used to.
We come upon a nameless Weike man, hungry as the snow falls upon the north. He’s pretty useless so he just ends up begging the gods in a roundabout way to help him, bad choice. He sees a deer and after a brief chase scene he manages to catch up and kill it, his hunger so great he just eats the raw flesh. But wuh-oh it's another Weike! Our unnamed dude is horrified and decides this might be a good idea to just kill himself, but our resident evil god decides to intervene and goads him to eat more. He eats and he’s been transformed into an Iskrill like being and becomes Yamat’s first hero, he’s also given a plague scythe and told to just kinda do his own thing for a bit. He hears voices and decides to go on another hunt.
Start=5mp/5dp The First Hunter: MP The Flesh that Heals III: This hero can regenerate lost limbs and injuries by consuming an amount of flesh twice the loss of their own flesh, ex: lose an arm, needs to eat twice arms worth of flesh to regenerate(based on the hero’s arms/body parts). The regeneration takes four days to complete.
The Rotting Scythe DP Plague Bringer II: Any living being(that can contract diseases) injured by this weapon contracts a minor plague or disease shortly afterward, these diseases can incapacitate the host if not treated well and can be spread, but are not currently life threatening and will go away after a week of solid rest and treatment. 2 dp towards the Decay portfolio End=2mp/3dp
Yamat walked through his prison, its winds wiping up the dirt and ash, he had another plan for his beautiful play, he just needed the right place.
He came upon a wide open area of the wastes, surrounded on all sides by the grey fractured mountains that dotted the desert, shielding it mostly from the piercing winds but not from the black sun ever present in the sky and with nary a ruin or bone pile in sight, perfect for his little idea.
He began by drawing a circle in the dirt, a massive one, encompassing the entirety of the open area, a deep gouge into the ashen dust of his realm. It was nearly a mile wide and a mile long, it would be enough for his plan.
He stood at one end of the pit, raising his hands, his runic skin glowing once more. In an instant the dust inside the circle vanished within seconds, forming a deep, deep, deep, pit, so deep that one could not see its bottom, even Yamat had to admit he himself did not know how deep it was, but that did not matter, what mattered is what would be put inside.
Yamat continued conducting, and the pit began to fill. A thick black sludge began to fill the pit from the bottom up, eventually coming just to the edge of the top where it seemed to bubble and shift as if alive, then it began to grow red eyes, thousands upon thousands of them, blinking at random iterations and darting about taking in their newfound existence. The sludge now existed as a being, tentacles covered in red eyes formed and sloshed about, grasping the edge of the pit or waving in the air.
The sludge was alive, not in a traditional way though, it was not some singular being, that would be, far too much effort for the god, instead, the sludge was made up of thousands and thousands of tiny, tiny, little organisms, by themselves these organism were practically useless and completely innoticable, but if enough gathered they could form themselves an autonomous colony that acted like its own singular being.
Yamat had no name for them currently, he instead figured he would allow the mortals to name when the time came, of course, he needed to give mortals the ability to summon forth his newest creations, he once more raised his glowing runic arms, conducting a gift for the mortals down upon Galbar.
Two servants, one in Toraan, one in Kubrajzar, going about their duties, unaware of both each other and of the great machinations of the gods far beyond their perception.
Suddenly, they gained a vision, images being branded into their mind and whispers detailing the actions. It was a ritual, one to summon portions of the sludge of the great pit, A bowl of water, some blood, a simple spell, from that would come the beings who could be used as devoted servants, so long as they were fed some mana.
The two servants were not the only ones amongst the two continents to get the visions, but they were amongst the select few chosen to know how to summon what would come to be known as “Demons” first, the technique would expand of course, but it would have to take its time.
Tales would emerge regardless, those with magic accompanied by strange creatures, black goo-like bodies and oftentimes countless red eyes, some taking shapes similar to other beings, other times being strange and entirely unique. Demonmancers became a strange yet known sight across the two continents, they were still rare, but the sight of one would leave an everlasting impression to many, the sight of the strange creatures rarely left their memories.
Yamat was pleased with his new children, they were already leaving their mark upon Galbar, while they were not the most direct of his creations in regards to the great play, he was sure they would play their part soon enough, he just had to make sure to check on the pit every now and then.
For now though, his mind turned elsewhere, his mind ever racing and filled with countless ideas, he had another great idea, he just needed the perfect candidate, for now he paced once more across his endless plane, his great play ever being worked upon, the playmaker’s work never finished.
Yamat has another great idea and finds a place in his realm for it, he creates for himself a massive pit(henceforth the Pit of Yamashin) that endlessly descends downward. He then creates demons, at least, the massive goo soup that encompasses all of demon kind and is the main point that they are summoned from upon Galbar, he then gives servants in Toraan and Kurbajzar the ability to summon forth these demons using a specific magical ritual. With this done he continues to think up ideas, his work never done.
Starting mp/dp: 5mp, 5dp 3mp-Create Demons: What many in Galbar would refer to as a Demon are actually colonies of thousands of parasitic organisms that organizate from the Pit of Yamashin, these organisms are inherently drawn towards mana and without that, the very lifeforce of mortals. Demons take a variety of forms, with two colonies rarely being the same, though summoners have a moderate degree of control to what the colony shapes itself as, generally as well the larger the colony, the more powerful the demon. Demon colonies outside of the pit require either a steady stream of mana from their summoner or, in a more, brutal method, a demon colony can be infused with a mortal, at which point the colony will embed itself upon the mortal’s body and feed off its lifeforce, these half-demon creatures are more feral than their summoned cousins and will eventually die off, with the body depleted and the demons returning to the Pit, but are less exhausting to create and upkeep.
2mp-give the servants of Toraan and Kurb the ability to summon demons using a specific method: The way to summon a demon is a rather simple endeavor, all one needs is a bowl of water, with a larger bowl required to summon larger demons, a knife, and the spell crafted by Yamat to summon forth the essence of the Pit of Yamashin. The summoner must cut a portion of their body and allow drops of their blood to enter into the bowl, the more blood used the stronger the connection to the summoned demon colony. When that is done the summoner casts the spell, which takes the form of a soft golden flame that hovers slightly above the bowl before descending downward. Once that is done the water will turn brackish and black before eventually becoming pure black and gaining red eyes, at that point the bowl has become a portion of the Pit and through the usage of magical energy the summoner can shape how the demon forms, though one must be careful as to not use too much or else the demon will go feral or too little which will cause the colony to die. After the shaping the demon will last as long as it is giving a consistent portion of mana energy from the summoner, at any point the summoner can stop which will result in the colony wasting away and returning to the Pit. End mp/dp-0mp, 5dp
The god of Tragedy was once more on the move, he had a tendency to wander aimlessly when he wished for ideas to come to him. He had found himself once more in that great meeting place of the gods, he could see the various portals of all the gods, he recognized some, knew of others, and there were still some he had yet to meet, but yet, he didn’t quite feel like meeting those who he saw, none of them, popped out to the playwright.
Of course, this always changed, and changed it did when he found one portal, he found it, enticing, its surface seemed to reflect like a mirror, oh this could be interesting. Only problem, he had no clue of how to pass into it, or if the god within even wished for visitors.
He slowly walked up to the reflective pane, his curiosity driving him ever forward, that was when he noticed the, being? If one could call it that, in the reflection, it was strange looking, silvery and reflective much like the mirror it was in, yet it possessed wicked claws and sharp horns, Yamat took a liking to it quickly.
”Greetings.” He spoke to the mirror, not caring how weird it may make him look ”Are you the guardian of this gate?”
The wicked thing of glass and claws trapped behind the reflective surface of Fìrinn’s portal took an equal interest in the God of Tragedy. It pressed the tips of those claws into what seemed to be the surface of the mirror, trailing them down it in careful and measured strokes, before flourishing with a bow as if to reciprocate the greeting. Though it lacked a face the sparkle of silver and golden lights across its form gave the distinct impression of thought and careful scrutiny, and after a moment of this eerily still prognostication it stepped to the side, gesturing inwards with its claws, and exiting stage left (as one might say).
The mirror retained some of the unnatural sheen from the lights that had danced across it, and somehow seemed to be more alive, more solid--and clearly, given that it was a portal, ready to be entered.
Yamat’s curiosity was most certainly peaked, and befitting of it, he pushed forward, entering into the portal. He entered into a long hallway, reflective mirror like surfaces surrounded him on all sides, in each one he could see the scenes of tragedy and suffering, even those not of his handiwork, which was surprising to say the least. He could see the massacre of Solaria by his Iskrill, the troll wars between human and troll, the destruction of a far off moon full of insects, plagues and famines, war, conflict, death, the lowest points of mortalkind for what seemed like ages.
Yamat himself took each one in, often criticizing the scenes under his breath, pointing out their flaws if they were not his make, or how he could do better if they were, yet his curiosity for the realm itself had never diminished, what kind of god lived in a realm like this? He just had to know. Yet, he could see no other god, he looked at every reflection, trying to find any outliers, until his gaze was drawn downward, where his reflection was, instead there stood another being, they seemed to walk upon water, dressed in beautiful clothing and lacking a face much like the guardian outside, Yamat believed he had found the god.
”Why, hello there.” he bent down a bit, trying to get himself a bit closer of a look at the god, ”You must be the god of this realm, I, am Yamat” He bowed as he always does, though this one felt more awkward due to their positioning.
”Ah, yes--the playwright. Greetings. I am Fìrinn, God of Truth. It is curious that you happen to stumble upon my realm now, of all times, when tragedies are being composed all ‘cross the worlds.”
Fìrinn did not speak, as such, but the meaning of its words and thoughts were impressed upon Yamat’s consciousness in a brief moment of what could only be described as intense lucidity--the sensation of epiphany, and opening one’s eyes to a greater truth than could have been perceived before. Then, as quickly as it had struck, it was gone--and only the echoes of those words remained within his essence. It was a cold, and almost clinical experience, completely devoid of the emotion so common in mortalkind and in the other deities--but in the absence of that emotive component was a deep sense of understanding that proved to be quite uncommon.
It looked up at the God of Tragedy from beneath its glassine perch and appeared to vanish, before re-emerging within one of the infinite panels of mirrors lining the hall and now seeming to walk alongside Yamat instead of beneath him.
”I have watched your handiwork from afar. You have brought tragic, cruel endings to many mortals--and in so doing, have altered their Truths irrevocably. Many might chide you for what is ostensibly an evil thing, but without tragedy there is no joy. All must be balanced ‘fore the scales of Truth, and to give new perspective and purpose is a goal of the highest order--it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Fìrinn reached its mantle-claws out, passing through the mirrors as if they did not exist, and touching upon a particular image in the Hall of a Thousand Mirrors. It seemed to grasp the immaterial essence of that scene and tear it apart, suffusing the realm with the memories and feelings contained therein, and all of a sudden the argent glare of mirrors was gone, replaced by an immersive view of that scene. It depicted Acadia and the Iskrill, waging a bloody war against one another. Scenes of brutality and tragedy flitted through the air and lodged themselves within the God of Tragedy’s mind, replaying them from the perspective of those who had directly experienced them. A pair of lovers, back-to-back, surrounded by a mountain of half-chewed bones and shredded viscera wielding sorcery and sword against the almost-inhuman horrors closing in upon them. Their last moments together, one tragically falling in battle, and the primal agony and horror of losing one’s love before succumbing to the cold embrace of death. Then, the scene was over, and Fìrinn stood in front of Yamat.
”There is an artistry to these scenes, cruel as they are. Many of our kith and kin have no great love of cruelty, and I cannot say that I am cruel myself--but nor am I merciful, and nor do I judge those who act in accordance with their nature.”
”Well, you are most certainly one of the few, I am always glad to meet another who can respect my great works, to me they are very important, as you’ve said, without tragedy one can not know true joy.” Yamat looked all across the scenes and mirrors once more, before once more turning to Fìrinn ”So you are the god of truth? Must be quite the work to maintain something like that.”
”It is…” Fìrinn paused, taking a moment to compose itself, before resuming.
”No more difficult to me than creating Tragedy is to you. It is a function of my existence, and one that I am happy to do. It does, however, require much of me in the way of focus--so perhaps you are right. It does require much to maintain. Still, the rewards of my maintenance are there for all to feel--when one’s lover meets a tragic end, it is the Subtle Weave that allows their partner to sense that distant tragedy and feel its pain keenly within their mind. This is a fact that you are no doubt appreciative of.”
Fìrinn did not quite smile, but lights danced across and through its body to suggest a sense of mirth and amusement--a happiness, perhaps, in the fulfilment of its and another’s Truth. A sense of completion.
”Now that we are introduced, is there anything in particular I may help you with?”
Yamat chuckled at both the god’s question and his answer to his”hmm, that is quite the question, I tend to just find myself with other gods and the plans form as we talk. Perhaps, you may be able to help me, have you heard of the Reshut in your watching of Galbar?”
Fìrinn nodded--or, at least, gave the impression of nodding.
”I see all that every mortal sees. Within this realm is contained all sights, all thoughts, all feelings--all that mortalkind perceives, all that they are, is within my demesne. I am familiar, yes.”
”Then i am sure you know they are quite important to me, as i am to them, but i must admit that i have not been as focused on them as i should be, so, i was perhaps thinking you may be able to aid them, give them a bit more of an edge compared to the continental races, of course in exchange, i am more than willing to aid you in anything.”
Fìrinn took yet another pause to mull over what it was that Yamat had said, its mantle gently tapping the tips of its claws against one another. Each beat of the impromptu rhythm caused new images to flood the mirrors lining the God of Truth’s realm before quickly being replaced by another, as if they were directing their attention to a river of images flooding by and perusing them at great speed. The only consistent theme among them, it seemed, was the Reshut--various individuals, various points in time, all coming together as Fìrinn mused upon their nature and what it would require to, as Yamat had said, aid them. Then, breaking that moment of silence, was a peal of gentle laughter.
”Hah. Is this how the other gods barter their divinity? An exchange of bartering, one expenditure of our divine power for another? Very curious indeed. I do not require anything of you to help the Reshut fulfil their Truths, Yamat--it is my design and my purpose. It is my sole motivation to align the Truth of all beings with their respective realities, and to safeguard that grand design from destruction. It is my purpose to remember all that has happened, so that the future might move towards its goals, even as those goals shift and change around us. I am happy to help you, without witness, without hope, without reward. You need not reciprocate, only do as your Truth demands of you.”
Fìrinn began to pluck individual images from the ether with its mantle-claws and true hands both, an aureate hue enveloping its form as it summoned forth its power to influence Galbar and the Reshut.
”Ah. The three clans, each ruling their own little spits of land without concern for the greater whole. With unity, they could be greater than the sum of their parts. They value privacy, and others shun them for their perceived lack of openness--this I can remedy, and keep their Truths intact. Through the Collective Unconscious, all mortals are linked to one another. Most remain closed to the possibilities and existence of this fact, unaware that within the depths of their minds lurks a spark which may be ignited if it is nurtured and cared for--and they might use it to divine and transmit meaning without the physical tells that mortals so often rely upon. Is this agreeable to you?”
Yamat thought to himself for a second, he knew his children did value their privacy, to be able to do what Fìrinn had offered would be a great boon to them, they could still function while retaining their beliefs. He nodded to the god of truth ”I can agree to that yes, they would most certainly appreciate that.”
”Consider it done. Is there aught else I might do for them?”
The reply was simple and swift, as while the meaning of what it had said made its way to Yamat the God of Truth was busy at work. It would not deign to make an anchor near the Reshut, for they had obstinately refused to worship any but their creator. Worship, Fìrinn had found, was not a necessary component for it to succeed in its task--mortalkind often entreated its aid without meaning to, through meditation and thought, through the Worldsong, or through the Endless Dream--those druids who had dedicated themselves to Fìrinn had helped anchor the God ofTruth as one friendly to mortals, at least in the periphery, and the nature of the Collective Unconscious was such that those sorts of ideas tended to compound upon themselves.
”I am not sure what, precisely, you had in mind for the Reshut--or if you gave thought to their eventual purpose at all. Mortalkind often finds a way to create its own purpose, I have found. What is it, precisely, you wish for them to accomplish--other than parity with the other civilisations?”
”I have given them thought, as of the plan for them right now, i merely wish for those three clans to gain some more power, eventually i wish for them to unite under one of them, and of course for them to survive, they will surely play importance in the great play, at least, if i have anything to say about it.”
”Perhaps, then, an awakening of a boon that might display their innate talents and proclivities? I see that the Kinoshita fancy themselves architects, and worship you with particular fervor… For them, I could offer a fragment of my influence over memory--a means by which their grand designs and rituals might always be remembered, even in the face of untimely demise? The Hashimoto swear by the way of the blade--perhaps, then, they might use the Collective Unconscious to divine the moments and intentions of their opponents in combat that their aim be more true and their dodges more swift? As for the Ohta, perhaps they would benefit from access to the panoply of magics I offer my druids and those awakened in the Collective Unconscious? They could use the Great Weave to determine the desires of those interested in business, to avoid duplicitous dealings, and to scry for particular objects that they or their clients might desire? All these are simple enough, and will allow for the Reshut to thrive as the upcoming centuries turn.”
Yamat nodded once more ”Yes, that would be more than perfect, each clan more attuned to its chosen path, that will be more than perfect for their place amongst the great play. I must thank you Fìrinn, many are not so willing to aid a god such as myself without some sort of deal.”
”Many,” the God of Truth began, sweeping its mantle-claws through the air and grazing against the mirrors as its true arms pressed against them and the divine power that would influence the Reshut flowed through them and into Galbar proper.
”Are too insularly self-involved to see that there is more to our existence and purpose than ourselves. It is interesting that you should use the word ‘perfect’, however, as there is one word of warning I will give to thee: The so-called Lord of Perfection is not to be trusted. See for yourself, and decide where it fits in your Truth.”
With that, the God of Truth called to the forefront another recollection of memory--Cadien’s interaction with Aicheil, the feeling of horror (and a grim reminder of the scream of madness and rage he would no doubt have felt), and the maelstrom of emotion in which he had enveloped Fìrinn itself in. All of these events, the feelings, the thoughts--Yamat’s to understand and to cherish, exactly as the Two-as-One had perceived them. When it ended, Fìrinn was gone once again--returned to its initial position as Yamat’s reflection.
”I will guide you out of my realm, if there is nothing else you wish to discuss?”
”Yes, i have heard of him, i will keep my eye out for him, and i do not believe i have anything else to discuss, of course if you desire anything, my realm is always open.”
Yamat is walking through antiquity once more, trying to find another god that interests him, this leads him to the mirror-like portal to the realm of Fìrinn, who’s avatar lets Yamat in after a brief interaction. Yamat finds himself in Fìrinn’s realm and witnesses countless scenes of tragedy and suffering, after watching them for a while he discovers Fìrinn. The two introduce themselves and begin to talk, Fìrinn noting his respect for Yamat’s craft and Yamat inquiring a bit further into Fìrinn’s domain. Eventually Yamat takes up Fìrinn’s offer of assistance and asks him to aid his children the Reshut, which Fìrinn does without asking for something in return beyond Yamat keepin to his truth. The two talk a bit about the details of the blessing and once that’s done Fìrinn offers some advice to Yamat about the god of perfection, Yamat acknowledges that and says his realm is open to the god of truth before departing.
-1DP (Discounted via Perception Portfolio) - Grant the Reshut increased attunement to the Collective Unconscious, granting the entire race inborn proficiency with it. This allows the Reshut to express their thoughts and feelings more strongly without the need to remove any of their clothing or their masks.
This is particularly manifested within the Hashimoto as the ability to read an opponent’s movements and thoughts to enhance their skill in martial combat, and within the Ohto as proficiency with reading the desires of those they interact with and detecting falsehoods in trade deals, as well as unrestricted access to Scrying magic. Those not affiliated with a primary clan will gain access to those abilities should they join the clan, but otherwise only get the initial benefits.
-1DP (Discounted via Memory Portfolio) - Grant the Kinoshita clan of the Reshut access to a shared dreamspace in which all memories relating to their architecture, plans, and religious beliefs/rituals are stored that can be accessed either through a specific ritual (of their choosing) or dreaming.
Lord Zee
Kho
Timemaster
Fetzen
Kuro
Crispy Octopus
Vec
Scarifar
Dion