I’ll be getting started on my CS today hopefully!
We orks gotta smash and lootz tingz first
We orks gotta smash and lootz tingz first
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The Tired One
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Think I'm going to play as a Half-Orc who doesn't really want to be an Orc and just wants to do like wood-carving and music
Some time had passed since Vakk had dared to break the mind of Li’Kalla, now sitting on a cliff overlooking the boiling strait that lies between his continent and Kirron’s own. Vakk was gitty, not from transforming Li’Kalla into the monster she now was, but for knowing the one who had his box, Hermes. However, he knew that perhaps he would need to lie low, being best for him to avoid Li’Kalla who may just start stalking him like the animal she had transformed into. The Lord of Talk continued to smile, his plans coming to fruition almost as great as he had imagined them, though the slight imperfections did plague him.
The imperfections, though small, did serve to hinder his future efforts. Of course, his mind went straight to the enemy he had made with Eurysthenes, but now he had to contend with the likes of the uncontrollable Li’Kalla. That was why he needed the box. The Box of Orchestration would allow him to pull the strings of every god easier and easier as it’s power to influence was unmatched, as far as he knew. Yet, Vakk knew it was now a matter of finding this ‘Hermes’ and bringing the box to him that would prove more difficult. He would need some form of tracker in order to find the thief and bring her to Vakk’s loving embrace.
Although, thanks to the memories of Li’Kalla, Vakk knew what the presence of Hermes very soul felt like. He looked to the stars for a brief moment, considering using Katharsos to aid in his hunt, but the idea was quickly snuffed out since Vakk already owed the death god. His mind went through several possibilities of hunting Hermes himself, one consequence being Li’Kalla coming to attack him. While he could theoretically prepare himself for such a fight, he would prefer to keep such a fight in a location where it would not be a challenge. His gaze shifted to the steaming water, thoughts emerging left and right before he settled on one particular thought that continued to persist in his mind.
If he were going to be too cowardly to find Hermes himself, he would simply delegate another creature to do such task. Vakk looked at the tendril that Li’Kalla had bitten into, while it no longer bled, he could remember the pain it brought. The tendril moved across the earth, gathering a bit of the ground while another took one of the stone trees, crushing it in his grip. He took the rocks, fashioning a frame from them before spreading the dirt across, however, it was not sticking to the rock. Vakk let out a sigh before he looked back to the steaming water.
With a thought, Vakk grasped the frame he built and threw it into the steam. While one would expect the stone to crash into the water below, the frame hung in the air, suspended by some invisible.
”Thieves and souls,
Perceives and patrols,
Tooth and fang.
Hunt Hermes,
Bring her to me.”
The frame began to shift, the steam from the water wrapping itself around until it became dense enough to form muscle and skin. The being soon became whole as the tail of the beast developed into a strange form of mace. It soon became conscious and began to prance about in the air, moving through the air in a fluid fashion before it landed next to Vakk. It’s form was ten times the size of what would have been a normal man, teeth the size of forearms and claws of hardy stone. It licked its lips expectantly, waiting for its master.
”Find the thief, Hermes. Track her through he very soul,” Vakk said tapping the creature on its nose. It raised its head into the air, sniffing for a bit before it let out a roar and bound off the cliff. The beast landed on the water, running across the surface of it, barely even touching the ocean. It would track Hermes down to the ends of Galbar.
It was only a matter of time.
I'll toss in my interest!
The travel back to Galbar had been a pleasant one, much unlike the effort and trickery Eurysthenes had imposed upon him in his travels to the Sky of Pyres. Despite the setback, however, Vakk would remain triumphant and his goals would be furthered. His form glided across the ocean’s surface, his tendrils dancing across the water, spraying the liquid into the air as he began approaching the small island that housed his gateway back to his home. For far too long, Vakk had been outcast from his own home for far too long, and if he were going to enact his plans (and revenge), it was going to be within the comforts of the Realm of Talk.
His tendrils pulled the small soul of Atmav forward and he could not help but contain a chuckle, knowing all to well the torture he would impose upon her for stealing his victory from him, thus outcasting him to this existence. Vakk gazed upon her for a moment, before letting out a sigh, knowing that it was not her wish to be sent here either. That was the fault of Vakk, but any feeling of remorse was sent away as he focused on his own sadistic desires. Yet, as he traveled to the entrance of his home, the thought continued to plague him as despite all the torture he inflicted upon others, namely Li’Kalla and Eurysthenes, Vakk knew deep in the back of his mind that souring relationships with potential assets were something he could not afford.
The entrance now stood in front of him, and the thoughts were pushed even further back as he could hear the whisper of the riddle, ”That which I am speaking of belongs to another, not myself. This may confuse some, though it is clear as day. What do I speak of?” Soon, the whisper was drowned out by the talk of the few echoes that escaped from the sphere, yet Vakk would focus on the riddle alone. He knew not of what he had stolen, as the riddle was made for Vakk’s purpose. The riddle had been made to be given to Vakk. There was no other that it could belong to, but even then did Vakk know that Eurysthenes was ever sly and confusing. The Lord of Talk and Manipulation knew all too well what the riddle’s answer was now, his time in the maze had shown him this. Eurysthenes still believed the riddle belonged to him, simply for having been the one to gift it to Vakk.
It was at this point did something creep back into Vakk’s mind, the Box of Orchestration. He had made that for Li’Kalla, thus it was hers and she could treat how she wanted. Yet, he could not help but feel insulted knowing that she would simply leave it to the elements. How could he have known it would have an adverse effect on her?
”The riddle,” Vakk said, his deepened voice silencing those echoes who had gone astray. He had to stay focused on his task, the very one he had to put effort into achieving. Eurysthenes maddening laugh could quietly be heard, Vakk knew he had gotten the riddle correct and proceeded to enter the cave system. It had been too long, yet Vakk knew the exact path he had crafted to get to the Realm of Talk. Following the echoes and whispers until finally, he entered nothing but darkness. The only thing to accompany him was his own reflection, further ahead than him and copying his motions as he moved forwards. Surprisingly, he was not happy to be back in his home, but he was not sad either.
The Lord of Talk stopped, his reflection disappearing and the darkness surrounding him. It allowed him to contemplate, at least for a little, as he began to recollect on his journey. It was a success, but he knew that it was not optimal with all the trouble Eurysthenes had caused him. However, he could count on Katharsos being friendly, Melantha was something to watch as it seemed she could see through his motives He had learned much. He had learned to not make unnecessary enemies, to use his magic sparingly, and, perhaps most importantly, to use his words to gain control.
”Perhaps the future will bare more fortunate outcomes,” Vakk said to himself, bringing the soul of Atmav to his face before letting it fall from his tendrils. He watched it fall before a terrible grin come across his face, ”However, your future will not be so kind.”
He spun his tendrils around the soul, catching it before it hit the ground. Then, his tendrils began to move around one another, snaking their way around what would be the form of the body; the head, neck, waist, wings, all it was perfectly traced by Vakk’s touch. Then the screaming began, as blue lights shown through small gaps, the arc of arcane lightning shot through, gliding across the tendril. The screams became louder and louder as the lights furiously danced and thick smoke began to escape through the cracks. Vakk’s tormented laughs began to follow as he painfully began to reconstruct Atmav’s body, piece by agonizing piece. It had seemed like mere moments had passed for Vakk before Atmav’s body had been finished, and he acquiesced his grip, setting the mortal upon the ground.
Her first experiences was that of agonizing pain, jolts of electricity hitting her very soul before her body was painfully being reconstructed. There was no rhyme or reason to how she had been reconstructed either, her wings having been made separately from her body which had been stabbed into what could have been called a spine. Her head was momentarily attached to her arm before a painful separation and reattachment to the appropriate part of her body. It had been the most excruciating thing she had felt and her screams ripped at her vocal cords, making them coarse and almost lifeless.
Atmav could only give a small sigh of relief when her torturous creation had been completed, only for her to be thrown into a pure black ground. She let out a groan, she could feel the steam lift off her body and she could barely see it move upwards. Her vision was hazy and her breath was slowed just enough due to feeling that she may just die.
However, her mind raced as it retraced its steps.
The fight.
Something jabbed her stomach forcing her from her thoughts, the hit had sent her legs and upper body reaching for the air before she turned and held herself up. On her hands and knees, she gasped for air before something massive slammed into her back, forcing her body to the ground once more.
The portal.
Slowly, with aching muscles and joints, did she began to force herself up, hands and knees supporting her as she shakily breathed. Atmav looked up, to see the being that was causing so much pain to her, only to find the massive base of flesh. She followed the base upwards, occasionally getting lost in the many tendrils of the creature, before she was essentially looking straight into the air. What she saw was a being of flesh and teeth, a horrid amalgamation of features made her skin crawl as she instinctively reached for a weapon that she did not have.
Vakk.
”You still chose to go for a weapon rather than look in awe upon my form,” the being chuckled insidiously, his voice shaking her to her very core.
Atmav had not been one to know much fear, she had always thought with her weapons and skill at arms, but this was a being she could not fight. She had not seen anything that had resembled this creature before and she could only stare as horror-filled what small amount of facial features she had. A moment of silence passed between the two before Atmav had finally mustered up the courage to talk to what towered before her.
“Who- who are you?” A fear-filled voice asked.
”I? You do not remember me, Atmav? After you denied me my victory over the Endless Talk?”
She kept quiet for a few moments before she cocked her head to the side, her fuzzy memories began to return to her. This being could not be the same one she had fought mere moments before her own death. That being had, at the very least, been honorable, a fighter, and a bit of a talker. This thing was certainly not…something so grotesque.
“Vakk?”
The titan let out a low rumble which could be acquainted with satisfaction, a simple confirmation that needs no more words. She felt his tendrils suddenly wrap around her and she pointlessly struggles to break free for a few moments as Vakk lifted her into the air.
”It is fitting that I should be the one to revive you. You caused my death and yet, I bring you life. A delicate balance that needn’t be disturbed any longer.”
Atmav would have furrowed her brows if she had the facial capacity to manage such a task, but the confusion was certainly there. Was he implying that she should be grateful for being brought back from death? Or had it been some strange attempt to mock her? She couldn’t tell before Vakk wrapped a tendril around her throat, slowly tightening and making it harder and harder to breathe. It had already been hard to draw a full breath, but now it was almost suffocating as Vakk only allowed in enough air for her to survive.
”I am a god now, Atmav. I can control every facet of your body and personality as I wish. You are my puppet!” his terrible voice marred her ears and his terrible laugh rung throughout her head. His laughter soon died out as he began to speak once more, ”I do plan to return home and finish what I have started. This time, you will not be in my way.”
“Then why bring me back from death? Surely I would be better that way,” Atmav snapped, continuing to struggle before the grip around her neck tightened. She gasped for air, coughing and internally pleading for the torment to end.
”Trust me, I do want you dead. However, watching you be helpless and inevitably falling from your morals is much sweeter of a fruit.” Vakk said, the humor in his voice slowly turning to a sadistic anger. For a few moments, it seemed that he would end Atmav, before his grip on her neck loosened, sending into a coughing fit as she could finally breathe again. ”There is still time for you to willingly come to my side. You can end this torture by merely pledging your allegiance to me. Then perhaps, I can take you back to our home.”
“You know I can’t do that. My honor… my family. I cannot betray my oath,” she coughed looking at the ground.
”Then you leave me no choice,” Vakk rumbled, he turned his head for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. ”I could easily turn your mind. In fact, it would be so incredibly effortless, that it would be the best option for me to do. Yet, I am not done satisfying my own sadistic pleasure, so for now…”
He slammed her into the ground.
”Jīvikkuka, pratidhvani!” An invisible pulse went throughout the blackened realm, pushing Atmav even further into the ground.
”Keep her from leaving, my echoes. Do not kill her.”
Slowly, she got to her feet, looking up at where Vakk had been, though now he was gone. In his place, she saw a single pair of glowing, white eyes, only for another pair to open up next to that. She looked around and noticed these beings surrounded her. Their forms were almost indistinguishable from that of natural background of the hell she was in. Whispers could be heard coming from their spiritual forms. ‘Leaving’, ‘echoes’, their voices repeated what she had heard Vakk say.
She wanted to leave, but she knew it was suicide. Atmav sat, gazing at the beings around her.
‘Soul’ one said.
‘Mine’ another.
‘Talk’
‘Kill’
‘KILL’
”SOUL KILL MINE” They said in unison, she could vaguely see hands reaching for her. They flew towards her but were stopped by some force.
Atmav gazed into the abyss.
It stared back with many eyes.
In
Steelbird Landing: A Roleplay After The End of it All [18+, 6 player limit!]
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
hey
Finally, the end was upon Vakk’s journey, after having dealt with a disrespectful goddess and playing the game of a god too puzzling for the Lord of Speech to truly like, he had arrived. The god could feel the presence of the souls all around him, and upon looking around the domain felt… rather disappointing, to say the least. The reek of souls burning, the nothingness other than the souls of the weak and feeble things that had come with them, it was all just underwhelming to the God of Speech.
He grimaced as he finally took in the smell of the domain. Disgusted and thoroughly annoyed, Vakk hoped that he would be able to find Atmav amongst all these souls. His form moved among them, listening and waiting for any hint that one may have been the harlot that cast him to this horrid existence. Vakk began to think as he looked amongst the endless sea of souls that Katharsos sought to burn before he began to think to himself.
When he found the soul of Atmav- if he found it, what would he do then? He had no more power for the time being to properly bring her back, no power make her a proper puppet amongst the gods. Vakk was tired. He grew weary of this venture and now only sought to rest in Sanvādam when he cracked the puzzle that Eurysthenes had set upon it. Even then, Vakk was stopped as he knew not if he could even go back the way he came, or even if wanted to try and deal with the God of Puzzles if he could. This was the torture that wracked Vakk’s mind as he attempted to find the needle in the haystack.
He could not focus.
Yet, Vakk knew Katharsos was here, he knew the likes of the spirit god would seldom leave his domain. The God of Speech huffed, hoping that he would have been able to find the one soul among many, but he was no god of luck.
”Katharsos!” Vakk called into the sea as he now moved to find the soul god.
The words were carried along by forces far greater than that of mere sound, so they echoed through the vast expanse to the most distant of stars. Somewhere, near one of those stars, Katharsos stirred. Unlike Melantha in her initially shy approach, this new visitor was trying to make itself known.
”You are demonstrating good progress,” he (somewhat absentmindedly) declared to Melantha as she tried to follow his instructions in her attempts at manipulating memory. A strange and awkward silence followed while he sat with a quizzical look and she awaited the words at the tip of his tongue. ”But something distracts me… another god is very near. Far, far away from us, but still near in that he’s found his way to this Sphere. He’s calling out to me,” he finally declared.
Melantha straightened her back from the hunched position she’d been for who knows how long. Being under Katharsos’ tutelage had been quite… interesting to say the least. She had grown used to his odd personality and the occasional bouts of absent-mindedness that came up whenever a stray thought entered his mind that he found worthy of consideration. “Ah, another god? I would not have known of this without you telling me about it. It would seem my powers are quite limited while inside another deity’s Sphere,” Melantha told him, and indeed it was so. Her detection capabilities ever since entering Katharsos Sphere had been significantly reduced. Melantha reasoned it might be a defensive mechanism of the Spheres themselves, but she was not entirely sure about her deduction and thus did not really give it much more thought.
The god of death paid her comment little heed, distracted as he was. He turned out to face some unknown direction in space, and projected one thought, ’I will come to you.’
And now he was torn. Leaving Melantha alone and to her own devices seemed exceptionally curt and rude, altogether the wrong way to treat guests if he ever expected them to return whilst they still lived. That created some conflict, for a part of him did long for company and to be held in high esteem by his fellows. But then some dark thought found his way into his mind and he realized that he would never truly be alone--there would always be a tide of souls to watch, and perhaps eventually to speak with. Of course, their company would be fleeting like the winds…
He shook that out of mind; he needed to make for this unexpected new guests, but perhaps there was a way to avoid offense on all sides. ”Would you care to come with me?” he suddenly asked Melantha.
“Very well,” she simply replied. There would be nothing to do within Katharsos’ empty Sphere anyway, and she had already exhausted her supply of questions about souls and memories. She would have to go out and try what she learned for herself in order to verify her new knowledge, so accompanying Katharsos to see this new arrival before leaving was the least she could do considering the death god’s surprisingly swell hospitality.
”I sense his presence there, nearest to that star,” Katharsos said, a short-lived tendril of fire escaping his mouth to indicate the one in question. ”Seeing as you made it this far, I presume you have some way to get there in a timely manner. I will… devise a way of my own.”
The god squinted into the distance, and his desire to bridge the gap between himself and the newcomer translated into acceleration. As he soared forward, he willed himself to ever greater speeds, and soon he was not a colossal head but rather a long and fully unraveled streak of otherworldly fire. In this state he found himself capable of going swifter than he had ever imagined, so he raced across the night sky at unimaginable speed and a few lonely creatures upon Galbar beheld the sight of a most unusual comet.
Melantha followed behind Katharsos, rapidly fading in and out of existence in an almost illusory-like way.
Meanwhile, Vakk had wasted no time in continuing his search amongst the souls, listening to them, hearing their words and fractured stories. At least now he knew that Karthansos was on his way. He would try to listen to them all, but it was futile as he felt he did not have the time amongst the countless souls. He let out a long sigh before he felt a presence rapidly closing in where he was. He turned his head to see a comet coming at him, as well as the presence of the death god, as well as another, Melantha.
”Come Katharsos, Come Melantha,
Join me in this plight.
Join me in this extravagant hunt.
Come Katharsos, Come Melantha.
Let us search for this blight.”
A smile crept across his face. Perhaps, he would finally be able to achieve that sadistic goal that he desired.
The great fiery glow grew larger and closer, steering straight for Vakk, but it was slowing. Just before it came near enough to warrant worrying about a collision, its movement was violently arrested and the globular streak rearranged itself into the shape of a tiger’s head, the one that was becoming Katharsos’ favoured visage. After a split second, Melantha materialized from the darkness next to Katharsos, silently taking in the new arrival.
Greetings were in order. ”I bid you welcome to my realm, dear Vakk. Your company is an unexpected but pleasing surprise.”
”Hello, Katharsos and Melantha, it is good to finally make your acquaintance,” Vakk said, moving his head down so that it would be level with the likes of the death god. He snapped his jaws as he heard some forgotten soul talk about its last meal, a rather loud one that one was. The Lord of Talk continued, getting right down to business, ”I must say that I am not here just to meet you. I have come in search of a particular soul, one that had followed me when the Architect had dragged us all here. I was wondering if you might be able to aid me in finding it.”
While Katharsos was taken aback by the candor of that request, Melantha’s eyes sparked as she thought about the consequences of such a request being granted. Katharsos’ first thought was that it seemed strange to be concerned about one soul in particular when there were so many around, but then in the next instant he realized that the obvious explanation was that Vakk had some sort of...attachment to the soul that he sought out. It sparked some thought. Katharsos remained silent and mostly expressionless as he rested in thought; Vakk could afford to wait for his answer.
This soul of his is likely already gone, but a few of the original ones remain. Should I entertain this request?
If this were any mortal praying for such a favor, the answer would have naturally been to deny the request. Rules had to be followed, the natural order that he created had to apply evenly to all--equality in death. But then, the gods were above most such rules. He had bent his principle in allowing Seihdhara’s spirit to leave, because she had swayed him that it would be to the betterment of all and because a deep part of him yearned to be liked by the other gods. He took no joy in trapping a soul, or in refusing and denying anyone’s pleading. But he had a duty, too.
Perhaps it made sense to allow Vakk this one favour, as the act in itself was small in the grand scheme of things. What could be much larger was the precedent that it set; Melantha’s bearing witness was an unfortunate thing, Katharsos now realized, because he did not want to be known as one that would acquiesce to the whims of others when it came to matters pertaining to his dominion over the aspects of death.
The dilemma tore at him. Ultimately, his decision hinged upon Vakk’s answer to one burning question, ”Why? What value does this soul have to you, and what would you do with it?”
Vakk thought long and hard of what to say, the answer not being one he wanted to divulge to another. Katharsos was the watcher of these souls, this was his domain and, as Vakk had learned in the Infinite Maze, saying the wrong thing or creating an enemy would come to haunt him. His words had to be careful lest he anger the Death God and make yet another enemy. He let out a small huff before he would deliver his answer, the tone of his voice becoming seeming lost in the past, ”She was once an old friend of mine and her death is partly the fault of the Architect for opening his portal and destroying our mortal forms. I do not believe that it is fair that she should suffer while I get to live.”
He let out a small sound that almost seemed like sorrow before his gaze subtly shifted to Melantha for a mere moment. He did not know what to make of her, but he hoped that she could not see through his lies. ”It would do me much pleasure if you would grant me this request.” Vakk continued, while this statement was not a lie, it certainly held ill intentions.
That reason seemed innocuous enough...believable, too. Not all of Katharsos’ peers were as capable of detaching themselves from such sentiment; he had realized that much already. Melantha, however, had her doubts about Vakk’s motives. Just when Katharsos was about to speak and grant Vakk his favor, she interrupted the two, her voice clear, her words perfectly articulated.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but I have a couple of questions for our dear god of Speech,” she said, first waiting for Katharsos’ approval of her interjection before facing Vakk directly. Although Melantha’s eyes were unable to see his visage, his overwhelming presence was clearly visible in her mind’s eye.
Katharsos was taken aback by the abrupt outburst, bearing an expression of shock and briefly flashing pink and yellow. He recovered after a moment and reluctantly offered affirmation, ”By all means.”
“Firstly, I thought all the gods were unknown souls wandering the endless Beyond before being summoned in this universe by Him. Yet, here you are saying that you not only had mortal, living forms before all this but were somehow torn from your own reality by the Architect’s grip? Suppose that is true, didn’t that other reality also house deities? I find it entirely implausible that they would let a foreign force invade their domain and take away souls by force, without any retaliation.
Secondly, I find it… strange that you would call this favor, should Katharsos allow it, a ‘pleasure’. Rescuing a friend from the clutches of death is nothing short of miraculous, not even close to a ‘pleasurable’ experience in my opinion. You could be grateful, of course, but your choice of words was different. Why is that?”
To these words, Vakk had internally began cursing at Melantha, and so he was silent for a time, merely looking at the Goddess. He lifted his head, towering above the two as he looked back at Katharsos. Apparently, he was to be met with an obstacle at every turn and he began to contemplate whether it was worth all this trouble just to satisfy a sadistic need. Yet, he had come too far to give up now and all fruits tasted better when they were ripe enough for the taking.
”I have come from another realm. Cast out for not believing in a certain way like the rest of the sheep in that cursed place,” Vakk stated, perhaps allowing it to come out a bit more defensively than he had wanted. ”Perhaps you, Melantha, were a lost, forgotten, miserable soul, but I was something more! I had a life before the Architect opened his rift, and so did she. Would you damn another to a death they did not deserve? Would you be so heartless that you would allow a poor girl to not live out her life after being taken from her home?“
His gaze returned to Katharsos, unknowing if his words would sway him fully. After some time, Vakk began to speak, mainly to Melantha and with it, his powerful words crept into both of their minds, ”Forgive me for becoming so defensive. I care for this one more than you may possibly understand. Would you truly take me for a liar if I had come all the way from Galbar just to seek this one soul?” He knew he could sway them by using his true power, it was only a matter of time before he could chip away her resolve for questions.
“Heartless? It seems you have misunderstood me. Souls beyond divine ones are beneath my wasting time arguing about. What I am arguing is whether your motives are true or not. Galbar… is a long way from here, that is true. It is also true that what I experienced might not be what others experienced during their summoning unto this world. This much satisfies my first question, but you have yet to answer the second…”
”Do you truly care?”
Melantha was taken aback by Vakk’s question, and she pondered on it for a good while. In the end, she sighed. “I guess I do not,” she replied. “But I strongly believe that once posed, a question must be answered, whether the answer is meaningful or not. I thought a god like you, with a domain over Speech itself, would relish in the mere chance at talking, much less answering simple questions. It appears I was mistaken…”
Vakk allowed a frown to come across his face, ”Our roles were not chosen. I am still myself, despite the Architect transporting me here. I do not like questions, especially ones where one does not truly care what the answer may be.” He craned his head down to her once more before speaking, ”Did you wish to be a goddess of question asking?”
”If it were up to me, I would not have been brought here in the first place. But that’s not something that can be changed now, I am afraid…” Melantha said before going silent. She moved behind Katharsos, now evidently having dropped the matter altogether. At the end of the day, it was him that was faced with the decision to help Vakk or not and not Melantha.
And then Katharsos broke his silence. ”This argument is being rendered moot by one bleak reality: Vakk, it might well be beyond the realm of possibility to grant you what you seek. Much time have passed and I have already recycled the majority of the broken souls that were brought here alongside us. If the soul in question still remains, time is of the essence and you must tell me all that you know of it if there is to be any hope of retrieving it in time. We can defer this discussion and speak of these other things while we look.”
For a moment, Vakk kept his eyes on Melantha as she moved behind Katharsos, almost looking through him before he snapped his jaws. ”Her name is Atmav and I am… close to her. After all, she was dragged here with me, perhaps she could be repeating my name? Regardless, she is a capable warrior with unwavering loyalty. As for how she may look, I remember she has four, blackened wings. She also has two large horns on her head and she lives without eyes, just as I.” Vakk spoke, returning his true attention to Katharsos before he looked out onto the sea of souls. ”I merely hope that there is enough time to find her.”
”Time?” Katharsos’ echoed, his face contorted into some unknowable expression. ”We need more than mere time! I must devise some means to go about sorting through the millions of souls. I am not omniscient here; try as I do, I can witness only a small fraction of those that enter the pyres. Never in my mind did I conjure some scenario where the fate of one particular soul would be of any consequence in the grand scheme of things, where I would need to find and isolate it. Nonetheless, you have presented me with an interesting challenge, and one that I will accept.”
But he was ever a pragmatist and a realist. ”Naturally, the odds still do not favor you. It is unlikely that we will find this ‘Atmav’, but now then, let us waste no more time on idle banter,” he declared, and yet even as the last word fell from his mouth and he grew silent, he simply remained. Were it not for the gentle ebb and flow of the tiny flames that made up his incandescent form, he may as well have been a statue suspended there in space.
Sometimes Katharsos’ strange mannerisms came across as outright infuriating, and here, when he seemed to be doing precisely nothing and yet by his own admission time was of the essence, Vakk felt angry. He let out a low growl before he spoke to Katharsos, ”Do you wish to make a fool of me? Why do you just sit there looking like a fool yourself?” Vakk snapped his jaws in annoyance, trying to get the death god’s attention once more.
The flames of his teeth elongated as Katharsos’ entire form flared up and became an ominous red. Yet there was still only a tinge of anger that crept into his words, ”Calm yourself. You are meant to be the very god of talk; you must know to think before you speak. And all beings should strive to reflect before they act!”
The stain of blood diffused away and he quickly reverted to his usual orange hue, and once again he suspended himself in silence and stillness. The other two’s patience was tested for a while longer before Katharsos suddenly proclaimed, ”To order all souls to assemble themselves before us and be inspected would be absurd; those decayed ones that cry out for mercy do not deserve the cruelty of being tortured or humiliated so. Besides, to manually inspect them all would take far too long and even then we might overlook the one that you seek. No, we need a more elegant system--a filter, of sorts.”
Over the coming minutes, the light of all the surrounding stars suddenly dimmed. As the tide of souls that had been fueling the pyres’ raging forms abruptly halted everywhere at once, the sky seemed ever dimmer.
But there was a great, glowing aurora of nebulous souls that was being formed as they were all brought together.
Vakk thought to himself for a moment, watching the aurora form before he turned his head to Katharsos. ”A filter? Perhaps something that allowed us to sort through what they may be speaking of? The one I seek would no doubt be talking about her adventures,” he suggested, his voice calm and steady after Katharsos had snapped at him. However, perhaps the God of Death had a point. It was Vakk’s irrationality that had caused Eurysthenes to become an enemy, and to make Li’Kalla suffer like the grindstone he used her for.
”I would presume that she too would be in better condition than many of the other souls, considering she entered alongside you. So we know this soul’s shape, its name, its…persona.”
Before the rapidly approaching stream of souls, there flew a lonely object that gleamed faintly as it reflected the light of Heliopolis. It was a massive crystal, the same that had first borne Katharsos to his Sphere. Not knowing what to do with the thing, he had abandoned it to drift through space, but now he realized a new and final purpose for it.
Its blurring speed came to an immediate halt right before Katharsos’ bulk, and from his mouth the god breathed a stream of cold fire. The flames engulfed the crystal and wreathed it in a layer of strangely colored and pulsating lights, and when they receded, the big hunk of quartz had been reforged into a prismatic and perfectly circular lens. The object hummed with power, and as Katharsos leaned in to whisper to it all that he had been told of the one called Atmav, her faint and ghostly likeness (as imagined by Katharsos, anyways) began to appear inside the lens’ depths if one squinted closely enough.
Then the vast tide of souls was suddenly upon them, and by the wordless direction of Katharsos, they all soared right for the massive lens and passed through it with their ethereal masses. The stream broke apart upon passing through the Lens of Souls as all the individual spirits were swept away back towards the stars that they had been destined for. Hundreds flew through every second, their wailing and shouting and confused muttering all blending together into one din; however, there was still a line so long that it stretched so far into the distance of the empty void that it blurred out of sight.
Katharsos carefully examined the process for a few minutes before deciding that all was working as he had envisioned and intended, and only then did his rigid expression fade. ”If this soul that you seek is still in existence, it will be found and separated from the others,” he assured Vakk.
Melantha observed from the sidelines the creation of this divine object, and marveled at how it was able to distinguish souls from one another. She reasoned she could learn more about souls by meditating on it, how it filtered and chose which souls to let through and which to keep behind. For now, though, she opted to remain silent. Vakk’s business seemed to not be over just yet.
”This is good! I must thank you for your effort, Katharsos,” Vakk said a true smile coming across his face, knowing that this nightmare of a journey would soon over. He looked out out into the sea of souls, watching the filter cast the rejected ones back to whatever dark hole they had crept from. This was good, progress was being made and now he knew what more he had to do, knowing that if he could control death then he would control life, ”You have been a spectacular friend. I must say, you are more powerful than I have imagined, such is befitting a God of Death. I have full faith that even if we do not find her, you and I may create fantastic things.”
His head shifted to face the Goddess, ”Even with you. You watch and gather information, such attribute is excellent with creating magnificent things, but… what stops you from using your power?”
“I do not understand your question, Vakk. I cannot find any reason for using my powers under the circumstances. Katharsos has created the necessary tool for finding the lost soul you seek, and quite a finely crafted tool it is, If I may add,” Melantha replied curtly. Katharsos softly uttered his thanks, but kept his gaze transfixed upon the Lens of Souls.
“You should take a note from Chopstick Eyes and make something… superfluous,” Vakk said before he looked back at the souls.
Superfluous? Now Melantha was genuinely confused as to what Vakk meant with those words. “I have yet to visit Galbar and have no knowledge of the other gods’ creations. However, I do plan on descending at some point. I will keep your suggestion in mind for when that moment comes.”
“I can tell you that there is much on Galbar,” Vakk informed, not shifting his gaze as the device continued its filtering.
How were those two able to so quickly lose sight of their objection and then banter back and forth about nothing? Katharsos remained silent and allowed the conversation to die.
Time had grueling gone by, each second turning into untold hours of simply watching the Lens sift through the souls that slowly made their way through. Vakk had been impatient and the silence between the three gods did not help him as he did not know what the Lens would do if it did find Atmav. Would it even find her? Was this whole expedition doomed to failure? What would he do if it were a failure?
Vakk growled before breaking the silence that plagued him for so long, a disappointed and frustrated voice taking control, ”It seems that this task was doomed from the very start. Perhaps you had burned her soul already, I do thank you for-” He ended his sentence abruptly as he looked back at the Lens of Souls, noticing that a soul was trying to pass through it but failing to for some unknown reason. It was like a fly trying to find the window, merely hitting the side of the lens in a futile effort to get through it. What was once a frown of frustration turned into a twisted grin of questionable intent as he gave a low laugh.
”Thank you for finding her.”
Melantha flew closer to the lens, her divine sense enveloping it, analyzing it. The interaction between the chosen soul and the lens was something of note, as the lens seemingly barred the soul from leaving and instead kept it locked near its surface. “Katharsos, you must let me study this creation of yours after all is said and done,” she exclaimed.
”Of course,” he answered both of them without hesitation. Pride and fascination beamed across Katharsos’ face for the first time since he had attained godhood. Ah, here was something that he could be proud of--a plan that had worked, and one that had been recognized with praise rather than riotous objection. It was only then that he realized this soul was trapped on the Lens and struggling like a fly in a spiderweb, pressed against the strange object by the inescapable pull driving the current of souls. With a thought, Katharsos broke that current and permitted the Sky of Pyres to return to its natural order; the endless stream of incoming souls dissolved as they were all swept to the nearest of those various stars strewn across the void. Meanwhile, Atmav was gently lifted off and guided closer to the three watching gods.
Vakk could not help himself as he moved his massive head towards the soul of the one it had taken far too long to achieve. He wanted to enact his revenge against her at that moment, but there were witnesses nor did he have the strength within him to make her suffer the way he desired. ”Atmav…” Vakk muttered, his tendrils slowly moving forward to touch the soul, they stopped mere hair lengths away from Atmav. ”No…
His head craned towards Katharsos before speaking, ”It is not my place to bring back what is dead. You should bring her back from this dread. This is only fitting.” Vakk retracted his tendrils from the soul as he had spoke before shaking his head. It seemed as though he was hesitant to bring back what he had traveled all this way to acquire, but Vakk would leave the choice to Katharsos, as death was his domain and not the Lord of Talk’s.
That shouldn’t have taken Katharsos aback, for Vakk had already offered his motivations and his purpose, but it nonetheless did. There was something...repugnant about the very idea of something being restored from the dead. So Katharsos looked inward, worried that it might be rooted in some hubris or pride, but he was left without any immediate answers. He had felt this overwhelming urge once before, when Seihdhara had pleaded for her release. But even that was not so bad; he had not restored her so much as released her that she could find a means to enliven herself. It seemed nothing short of obvious that the dead should remain that way; to think otherwise was like arguing against the oceans of Galbar (that walled garden far, far below) being blue.
”Why should this one be ‘brought back’? Is it not enough to have this one returned to your safekeeping, be it in flesh or in soul only?”
He had already sacrificed principles and bent the rules on that day just in creating that great procession of souls that he’d sent through the Lens, and now he was doing it once more in permitting this one soul to be claimed by another god. Now, he was beginning to realize that he didn’t truly hold Vakk in such high regard that he would bend a third time as part of this grand favour.
”As I have said, it is not fair that she should have died due to the Architect bringing her here when it only should have been me,” he feigned desperation before he seemingly calmed himself. ”I suppose I have bothered you enough, however. Perhaps I should go to another god to try and bring her back,” Vakk sighed, turning away from the death god to gather Atmav’s soul. The struggling form of Atmav tried to pull away from the invisible guide to escape from the Lord of Talk, but he muttered a few simple words which broke her fight. Afterwards she was silent enough, a feature Vakk appreciated of Atmav. His tendrils gingerly wrapped themselves around the soul before he turned to face Katharsos.
He appeals to fairness and justice, ignorant of the hypocrisy therein. How is it ‘fair’ that one can escape death when all others must succumb?
”I did enjoy this time. Perhaps when I visit again, it will not be a favour I ask?”
Regret and doubt were already beginning to circle around his mind like vultures, but through his concentration Katharsos staved them off. He nodded his farewell to Vakk, and answered, ”Treasure this most valued consideration that you were given, for I do not think that this will be a common occurrence. Perhaps one day our positions will be mirrored and it will be I who asks for a favor from you, my friend and equal. Until such time I shall bid you swift journeying. Know that you are welcome in my realm, bleak though it may be.”
Vakk only silently nodded with a light smile coming to his face, a few final words being spoken to Katharsos, ”Know a favor will be repaid. Do not be dismayed, or be stayed, from coming to Sanvādam, the Realm of Talk. All you must do is follow the sweet sound in the ground.” Vakk bowed his head before he turned and took his leave.
He stopped a get moments later before he turned back, ”Say, is there, perhaps, a path that may take me to Galbar? I managed to come through a rather… difficult path through the Infinite Maze, and I’d rather not deal with that heartache again.”
”Intriguing! I had wondered just how you had arrived here…” Katharsos blinked a few times, absent-mindedly contemplating this new revelation that this foreign Sphere (which he innately knew to be that of the one called Eurysthenes) could brush up against his own. But then the grip of Vakk’s impatient aura drew his attention back to the moment. ”I have breached the various seals between this place and Galbar; they are held open by the pressure of an intangible storm that sweeps up the souls of the dead and carries them to their final destination here. I could leverage it open wide enough for you to pass through in the flesh, and you could then descend back to Galbar, but beyond that I can offer you little assistance.”
”That would be enough. Though, I grow tired of constantly thanking you,” Vakk joked before his impatience got the better of him, forcing him to finally leave and make his way back to Galbar. Knowing what to look for, it was easy enough to find the so-called Vortex of Souls; he needed only to follow the steady streams of braying souls that were ascending into the Sky of Pyres, and eventually they all led to one rift that radiated power. True to his word, Katharsos indeed manipulated the gateway such that it was barely large enough to permit Vakk’s passage, and so the god slipped through and was swept downwards through the Celestial Spheres.
While the two gods were saying the farewells, Melantha had already started studying the Lens. She did not particularly care about Vakk enough to see him off and considering that they were not in her Sphere where she would be their host, it made even more sense for her to stay quiet and proceed with her own interests. Trying to be as gentle as possible with Katharsos’ creation, Melantha exerted her power upon it. A film of darkness enveloped the faintly glowing Lens which Melantha used to absorb whatever little essence leaked out of the divine object. By analyzing the composition of said essence she could pinpoint what changes were made to its fundamental form due to the Lens’ mechanisms, and thus she could deduce how those mechanisms worked. Of course, Melantha also could rid herself of the hassle by simply asking Katharsos to explain how it worked, but she thought the challenge of reverse engineering the divine tool was something worth her time and effort.
It took him only a moment or two to realize what she was doing. ”It is a much more precise, delicate, and…elegant tool of purity than these astral fires that I am made to use elsewhere. Take care not to contaminate it with any of your own divine essence, for that might irreparably damage it.” Lost in her thoughts as she was, however, Melantha did not hear his words.
At first, she was confident in her deduction skills, but as time progressed she realized that she’d stumped upon something quite difficult, her mental strain evident by the ever-evolving frowning of her brows. Nevertheless, she refused to turn to Katharsos for instructions.
He remained there for a while, watching her as well as the distant stars. One by one the pyres began to glower bright once again as the (temporarily diverted) stream of souls was now being directed once more as it had been. The silence and the nothingness about were rare moments of peace, but he could hardly enjoy them. There was a growing itch of sorts; he felt like he was in dereliction of his duty as he remained just suspended there in idle rest. He had to watch over the pyres. It was his duty, to see all the memories that he could before they passed away, so that someone would remember.
Gingerly, he broke the silence and Melantha’s concentration. ”I must return to my place now. I will need to bring the Lens with me.”
Having not made much progress in her understanding of the Lens, Melantha’s displeasure was evident upon coming out of the trance-like state she had fallen into. “You assured me that you would let me study your creation.” The goddess looked around before turning back at Katharsos and continued. “I don’t see Vakk anymore, so I assume your business with him is over? If that’s the case then I hope you will indulge me this small favor. You promised.” If Melantha’s eyes were not covered, they would be staring straight at Katharsos.
”Vakk is gone,” he granted, ”and yet I have held to my promise. You have probed at the Lens for a long time and realized nothing, and nor will given another hundred years, for your method is flawed. You will not understand it by trying to witness what leaves the vessel. One must look instead at what enters, so retract that film with which you’ve covered it.” Taken aback by the revelation, Melantha sighed and did as Katharsos instructed. “So all my efforts are for naught. I thought all that time spent under your tutelage and the knowledge I gained would be of help, but it seems there is more to this item than meets the eye,” she commented dejectedly.
“To break an object, there is always one angle that works best--one point weakest to outside forces, and one direction to apply the force through that point. Just so, there is always one true perspective. Finding that perspective, knowing where to look, is where all of the difficulty lies,” was his strange and circular way of trying to offer some words of comfort, which Melantha accepted, albeit still feeling a little glum due to what she considered her failure. ”Shall I show you where to look, and what to see? It is the least that I could do.”
“I shall be in your care once more,” she promptly replied.
”If you are to garner or hold to anything from me, let it be to the sentiment that the pursuit of the correct perspectives and opinions is our imperative. One can never have certainty, for there is always a storm great enough to cast down a tree well watered and with the deepest of roots. Natheless, when you contemplate from many different angles and come to arrive at one, you will have done more than most and you will be able to deservedly have confidence in the truth of your path.”
He was silent for a moment, letting that sink in even as he thought for a moment about what to say next. ”I hold strongly that this philosophy is all self-evident; the Great One that brought us here has but only one eye, and in that knowledge I feel affirmed. But there is a chance, perhaps imperceptibly slight, that I am wrong. If that were the case, I hope that I would be able to witness the falsity, accept it, adjust my mind accordingly, and then reconcile my new understanding with what other things I’ve held to be true. But I have digressed too far. Let me explain the intricacies of this Lens.”
His intangible will tugged at the object and spun it such that it caught the glare of distant Heliopolis head-on. Through the prismatic glass did the light travel, and rainbows exploded through every facet of the crystal as the light was separated into its many colors. Aware that Melantha remained blind, he tilted the Lens an almost imperceptible bit such that some of these tiny bands of color fell upon her, hoping that she might sense the difference between them.
”See how the light itself is split as it falls into the crystal? That is its only secret. Call it entropic recursion; the rainbows are split, and their products are split, on and on until only the simplest and smallest and most base of things remain visible, and then all is laid bare and there is no hiding. The boulders are broken into pebbles, which are made into grains of sand, which are made into near nothingness, and then the minutiae can be observed. The Lens only bends and ceases its relentless destruction when it beholds the fundamental thing that it is told to search for; all else is broken into objects so small that they are able to pass right through, almost intangibly, and then be bent and assembled back into shape such that they reform as they were on the other side. This might have been readily seen, but the flaw of your approach was that you covered the Lens in a film of darkness and permitted neither light nor soul nor boulder enter its depths, so of course there was nothing to be seen emerging from the other side.”
Melantha remained silent as she absorbed Katharsos’ explanation, and even after he had finished, she kept to herself. After putting everything in her head in order, a question had arisen which she posed to the god of Death. “You say that the Lens breaks things down to their most minute components which are then observed to see if they are what the Lens is tasked to search for, but creating such an object with a function such as that would entail the creator to have a thorough understanding of nearly everything, so that the reconstruction process can be guaranteed to be flawless. I think neither you, nor I, nor every other deity bar the Architect maybe, is privy to that kin-”
”I think that you misunderstand; it was only a metaphor,” he interrupted her. For emphasis, he conjured a small mote of dust and hurled it at the Lens, and the thing bounced off its surface. ”It breaks light, but any mundane crystal could be shaped for that purpose. This one is made special by how it separates the soul from those dyes that color it, those things that go on to become impurities in the pyres. Interesting though they might be, I care little for what things…constitute the mundane objects around us. My quandary and my purpose in this world relates to soul and that which we cannot touch and feel.”
“So the Lens is, essentially, a better version of your pyres?” Melantha questioned somewhat confused.
”I told you that I think this much more elegant than those crude fires, yes. But its purpose is a different one.”
“I see. I guess then that what you have already taught me covers the inner workings of the Lens. There is nothing more to gain from studying it,” Melantha concluded. “I shall take my leave now. There is much to do yet so little time. Thank you for your hospitality, Katharsos. You have done more for me than you may think you have, and of course, you will always be welcome to my domain.”
Melantha gave a graceful bow as a sign of her thanks as she slowly faded out of existence, rapidly merging with the darkness of space. Only a wisp of essence was left behind in her place to indicate she was ever there in the first place which soon also dispersed into nothingness.
In
STATEHOOD: The Founding Brothers [The Island Nation of Balruba, 1947]
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5 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
Will have a post up later today!
In
STATEHOOD: The Founding Brothers [The Island Nation of Balruba, 1947]
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Nation Roleplay
General Elliot Webb
"I must disagree with both Mr. Adkins and General Rothington, a bicameral legislature elected wholly by the people would be the best for us. While yes, the process of making laws would become longer, I do believe that it is this system that has allowed for nations like the United Kingdom and the United States to stand. The United States is one of the most modernized countries in the world and they have this style of legislature. Additionally, investing power into one authority is a risk that the legislative branch would become corrupt. As such I cannot justify my decision being for a unicameral legislature." These were the final words of Elliot Webb regarding the legislator as he allowed those more qualified than he to make a decision of this government. It was this silence on the government that perhaps made his presence at the Constitutional Congress rather lackluster than what someone would have expected of him. However, he would allow his fellow supports to go and talk for him.
One such man was a Lawrence Watts, a fellow defector from the RAF, would later be mentioned to be the passion that followed Webb's words where he would speak fervently of how the people must elect all parts of the legislature and how it must be debated by two in order to ensure it is truly the best for the people. Where Webb was calm and composed, Watts was fiery and passionate, however, Webb would often tap the shoulder of Watts to reel him in if he ever got too aggressive. Webb would not allow Watts to speak too much out of a fear that whatever Watts would say would be interpreted as exactly what Webb would want. To avoid such a problem, it was said that Webb had explicitly told Watts to avoid speaking.
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