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STATUS: Going to a festival fellas! So for the coming week I won't be able to post. 9 yrs ago

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9 yrs ago
Current Going to a festival fellas! So for the coming week I won't be able to post.
9 yrs ago
When you marathon Rick & Morty S2 and expected laughs but the ending just slaps you in the face...
9 yrs ago
School's in full "consume all his time"-mode so no posts for just a lil longer. Sorry folks! I promise I'll make up for it in the weekend!
10 yrs ago
Going to take a small break on most of my RPs for maybe a week or so.
10 yrs ago
Not near an actual keyboard until 21/06

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In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
“Nabu!” One of the slave handlers yelled. Nabu, a young man at the age of 20 looked up from his meal. Some soggy stuff given to him in a clay bowl. It was small, but to his surprise it contained tiny bits of meat. “Nabu, you’re up! Put the food down.” His handler yelled again. Nabu, instead, began to quickly scoop up the goo with his fingers to get as much in him as possible. After about four scoops his handler had gotten close enough to slap the clay cup out of his hands. “When I say you’re up, you head to the door. You got that?” The man, with those sapphire blue eyes, got up in his face before he pulled him up from the ground and pushed him along. Nabu’s heart was beating heavily in his chest. Ever since he had been hauled down the strange, subterranean place he felt dread come over him. They said that slaves went in but they never came out. Nabu sure had seen his fair share of corpses too. But also different things. Giant broken statues in places where no giant statue should be. He heard rumors of demon-flowers. Which blossomed if you got dark and would open up to reveal a monstrous thing that could tear you apart.

A rope held Nabu’s hand together, though it gave enough leeway so he could move them still. It was more about reminding him who he was. A slave. Expendable. The gate opened when one of the Sapphire eyes wielding a strange, golden-trimmed slate touched it. Beyond it was a long corridor. Both sides flanked with fresh water. Plinths rose from the water, holding statues that looked inwards. “Look out for the blue glowing ones.” His handler said. Several other slaves, armed with torches and desperate courage, pushed forward into the corridor. Observing every statue as if they could discern the meaning of its figure. They were weird. Showing human-like creatures but that had strange protrusions from their far too flat face. Nabu found himself staring at one statue. Until the distance lash of a whip woke him up from his own curiosity. “Move along Nabu! You’re not here to stare!” Dutifully. Fearfully, Nabu continued on. There was one small side room running from the main route. None of the other slaves had entered it. It was dark, looked small and empty. Handlers never liked their slaves suddenly vanishing. But it almost felt as if something was calling Nabu towards it. Like a whisper at just the edge of his mind. Slowly he walked in, illuminating the small room. It was indeed empty. Save for a small totem. One Nabu picked up to examine closer.

It was cold. Before anything else, Nabu noticed that. It stung to hold for too long. There was no explanation for that, as the totem itself was simple polished black stone. Or perhaps, not. As Nabu looked at it, it seemed less opaque. Almost like it was dark glass. The slave strained to see something in the totem, and was met with an open eye, glaring at him from within the object.

He yelled, fell down and dropped the totem. Scrambling away from it before turning around and trying to make a mad dash towards the corridor. There his handler was already yelling for him. His mind chose not to process what just happened. He just needed the safety of others. Then, suddenly, people began to yell and scream and holler. Something cracked and gave way. Light faded. Stone fell. Blocking the entrance of the small room. Dust billowed up all around Nabu, who had to cough and protect his eyes. “Nabu! Nabu what the hell did you do!?” His handler yelled from the other side. Nabu, confronted with the sealed entrance, just turned around to look at the dropped totem. Fearfully awaiting the demon to crawl out of it and eat him whole.

It was watching him. The eye looked almost human, but only almost. It was too large, its movement was too smooth as it tracked him from across the room, and it was also glowing. There was a hum in the air, and the walls spoke to Nabu, “Hmmmmmmm, why do you run, slave? You are as surely dead out there as in here, slave.”

Nabu kept moving around. Hoping to lose the attention of the glowing eye. Behind the collapsed entrance he could hear the commotion growing. Stones were being dragged away. Within a few minutes more Mystics would move in to clear the rubble. When the walls began to speak Nabu whimpered and moved away from them. Trying to stay in between the totem and the walls. “I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die.” He kept whimpering. Mostly to himself.

“They will kill you, slave.” The walls thrummed, “If they clear the way, they will kill you. They brought you here to die.”

Nabu shook and tried to shield himself from the demon's gaze. Its voice seemed to vibrate the room, drowning out the shouts from beyond. It dominated his hearing, but as it droned on the slave found it was not the only one he could hear.

“But you don't have to.” A feminine voice whispered in Nabu’s mind, “You can live, Nabu.

His eyes opened. The strange presence was still there. But maybe something else as well? He didn’t want to die, and right now he would do anything to live. “I just… want to live.” He said out loud. On the other side of the room two small tables with sand on top of it were carried before the rubble. Two Mystics with wands walked up to the tables and began to draw their runes in the send. Preparing their magic to remove the stone. “Just…please… show me how I can live.” Nabu pleaded. Knowing that his fate would be sealed if the rubble was gone.

“Speak the demon's name. Ungaaraad.” The second voice answered softly, “Speak its name and it will grant your wish. Others will pay the price, but you can live Nabu. You can be safe.”

The slave approached the totem on his knees. It was still unnerving, but as the sound of moving stone grew louder, he knew he was doomed either way. So with the totem in his hands he said: “Ungaaraad. Please, help. Ungaaraad!”

The walls stopped vibrating, and cracks began to appear on the totem. The same voice that had shook the walls reverberated from the demon's cage, “I answer, slave. Speak your hope, and your hatred. I require both. Speak.”

“I-I just… I just want to get out of here!” He exclaimed. Tears were welling up. He was just a boy tending the land. Loving a girl. How did he even get involved in all this!? His eyes looked out at the rubble. Light from outside began to peer in already. It wouldn’t take long before they would grab him. Them, who had put him in ropes. Imprisoned him. Fed him gruel. “And I want them to die.”

The totem shattered. Light, noise, motion, everything stopped. There was a second between when Nabu made his wish, and when it was fulfilled, and in that second he saw a shadow made of teeth. Then he was alone, in the light. Far from Angehbad, standing tall on a grand prairie with a great gleaming temple calling him in the distance. It was a safer place. One made by another being than that which freed him.

That being stayed behind, in the dark. Waiting for the rubble to be cleared. “I’m going in.” Nabu’s handler said as enough of the stone was removed to crawl over it. He did so to be greeted with a massive, dark room. “Nabu! You piece of crap. I swear to the gods this is one step too much.” He was clearly not amused. Soon after several more handlers crawled into the darkened room. The mystics manning the sand-tables remained behind. Though most of them found it odd that not even the torches were visible from the room.

Then, a scream. And another. They echoed from the room. The rubble was cleared. One man came running into the twilight of the room. Bloody, missing an arm. Screaming like he was possessed. Something seemed to grab him and pull him back into the darkened room. The wide eyed sand-table Mystics cleared and redrew their runes. Summoning fire and launching it into the room. To no avail. The darkness reached out at them as tendrils. Wrapping them up and pulling them into the room. Kicking and screaming.

It came for everyone. Mystics, Slaves, all were attacked as the darkness seemed to seep out of the room. Torches were extinguished and screams died in the throats of terrified men and women as they fled. Darkness spilled over people, and they did not emerge from it. Of those who ran, the barest fraction escaped. Nabu’s second wish saw the ornate statues he’d marvelled at painted red with the gore of those who’d beaten and cared for him indiscriminately.

Behind the lucky few who’d survived the room growled, and loping fanged creatures that scaled the walls with ease exploded outwards. To the survivors luck they seemed to scurry deeper into the labyrinth, rather than give chase. Behind them, just in the doorway of the chamber where so many had died, familiar faces peeked out, only to retreat back in when seen.

Terrors had been unleashed, and for explanation those who returned would find only a few words, crudely carved into the stone amidst the abattoir: A Slave’s Price

It was a warning.







In 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP} → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

ARES
SEATTLE UNIVERSITY
GOD OF WAR

As satisfying as shooting Shango would be, he knew it wouldn’t kill the god. Not that it would. A bullet to the brain would just be a way to incapacitate him. To buy some valuable time. It was all planned for. The hidden bureaucracy of murder – which Ares himself had created in Seattle – had already been filed, cleared and approved. Shango, or whatever his mortal identity was now, would vanish from the earth.

Ares remained mostly deaf to the supposed social commentary of his Roman counterpart. Mars was a failure, really. What was a god of war without weapons, without a fight? He was wrong on all points as well. It didn’t matter what The Morrigan knew or kept for herself. Before the day was done, Ares would know a lot more. There was nothing she could say that he wouldn’t know already by the end of the day. In truth, Ares thought Mars just talked too much. So Ares never answered Mars’ question either. This wasn’t a courtroom. The Yorubans had always hated the Greeks, as they had hated them. Though something deep inside Ares gnawed at him. Mars’ sudden appearance couldn’t have been coincidence. The impulsive side of Ares just wanted to point the gun at the CEO’s head and pull the trigger. Just to shut him up.

Words that did matter came from Eros. Eros… his son. Ice cold fingers gripped his heart. Why did he appear now? In all these years, why now!? The disappointment cut into him. Eros wasn’t wrong. Ares hadn’t changed half as much as he wanted to. But at the same time, he had changed more in those last five years than he had in the five centuries before those. Sadly, this wasn’t a situation he could just drop everything. Ares knew he was right in at least a small regard, even if Eros would never understand that.

Something Hathor wouldn’t understand as well as she grabbed Ares’ wrists suddenly. He wasn’t deaf to her words either. Slowly, steadily, he lowered the gun. Putting it back into the specially designed pocket of his winter coat. He quickly send a message on his phone. Grinding the gears moving outside to a halt again. He hated the fact that she was right. His mother needed him more now. Retribution could wait. Calmly, but with his back at The Morrigan, he walked up to his seated mother and put a firm hand on her shoulder. He was bad with words at times like these. He knew that, and he knew she did too. But that hand on her shoulder was more than a comforting gesture. It was a silent oath. He would find whoever killed his brother. There would be no trials. No jury. Not even a swift death. And as he held his hand on his mother, he looked Zeus straight in the eyes. Gauging his father. Would he be up for the task ahead of them? Had Zeus changed too much already that he would no longer want to enact vengeance? Or was Ares right for all those centuries now, and there was still a glimmer of the old Zeus below the façade?

Interacting with: Hera(@smarty0114) & Zeus(@beetlemoth)



HEL
SEATTLE UNIVERSITY
GODDESS OF HELHEIM


“Father.” Hel received Loki with a coldness she reserved only for him. Even as they hugged, she kept her distance in all ways. Counting down exactly three seconds before she broke the hug. Caring little if it felt literally frigid. If life hadn’t been cruel, she thought she would be able to love her father. But as it stood, his actions would bring about the end of the world. The end of her brothers… Maybe even the end of her. Even his mere presence was a threat. But that was not something Hel could show. So she had to resign to eternally measured politeness. The rest of the room was quickly devolving in a mess as the Greeks seemed to find a need to puke and curse at each other. Say what you will, but at least the Loki family was able to maintain its civil demeanor. Unlike many of Mount Olympus. Alas, when Hel broke the hug she turned around again to sit down. Not giving Loki a chance to string her along for a conversation. Not that she wanted to talk about her job, or the body she had found a few days ago, or the strange grave she only recently discovered, or the ghost she talked to in the hospital’s cellars, or the beautiful flower she had seen growing at night, or how she deeply missed Fenrir and wished she hadn’t been such a coward all those centuries ago, or how she could barely sleep… and when she slept she only had nightmares. No… she had nothing to talk about… nothing at all.

“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”
  “Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”


That bombshell alone was enough to pull Hel from her own mind. A god… dead. It had been.. a century since that last happened. The disruption amongst the undead… of course. Puzzles fell in place within Hel’s mind. How could she not have recognized the pattern!? Another god… dead. Hel looked outside. Winter was coming. Would it be the winter? A shiver went through the goddess’ spine. Fear gripped her heart. She needed answers… ones she couldn’t get through traditional means. She would need to find other ways. New insights. For now though, she remained seated. Patiently waiting for The Morrigan to explain herself further. Ignoring the Greek commotion entirely. They weren’t important, nor were any of the new arrivals.

Though from the corner of her eyes she kept an eye on Loki. Making sure she’d see every grin, every smirk, ever move at the corner of his mouth. Any indication that he knew something more than everyone else. Hel knew her father well enough. He could be involved just for the fun of it. Or to see the Greeks and Romans finally clash.

Interacting with: Loki(@fledermaus)
In 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP} → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

ARES
SEATTLE UNIVERSITY
GOD OF WAR

After Ares’ entrance, a slow trickle of gods and goddesses followed. From the Greek pantheon or not. Zeus’ arrival was met with a cold, disinterested should from the god of war. Danishes were delicious, but absolutely not worth getting up for and passing his father to get them. It was so obviously a ploy. Which only begged the question: who did Zeus want to shag at the Conclave? That was the only reason Ares could see why the King of Gods would go through so much effort. Athena’s entrance was met with Ares’ owns narrowing. Her mere presence was enough to get Ares on edge. Of course she went straight of Zeus and his poisonous Danishes. At least he was happy to see her confrontation with Shango unfold. ‘Pollo’s entrance was met with a slightly less hostile glare. Of course, the god was good in Ares’ books. He was just sizing everyone up as they entered the Conclave. To see who was here with a purpose and who was just here like a child attending an obligatory course. So far it would appear the later reason vastly outweighed the former one.

And then Ares smiled. Hera entered the room. She looked impeccable as always. A woman who stood her own against the King of the Gods. Ares could only admire her strength. Normally he would’ve gotten up to give her a hug and a peck on the kiss. Though now he was entirely contend to watch her rip Zeus, Apollo and whoever else she got in her sights a new one. More gods trickled in. And then even one stranger who… oh this was perfect. Ares couldn’t suppress the grin when the stranger puked all over his father’s shoes. If he was in private, he would’ve laughed his damn ass off. Other still entered in. Even his boss, whom he greeted with a small nod. Aphrodite’s entrance was met with a lot more attention though. The mere sight of her created too much turmoil in Ares. Guilt, an emotion he had been wrestling with in the last seven years now, reared its ugly head. Yes, he had wronged her. Deeply. He only hoped they could start making amends after the Conclave. Or rather, he hoped that she was at least open to the idea of forgiving him.

“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”
  “Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”


There exists, for everyone, a sentence - a series of words - that has the power to destroy you.

The God of War seemed calm as he heard the news. Not even shocked. Almost disinterested. The room grew muted to Ares. The yelling and fiery rage of his mother became a muffled whisper. Distant. Unimportant. Movement, in the corner of his eyes, seemed to slow down. As if time itself went sluggish. His own thoughts consumed him. Invisible turmoil, only skin deep. For a good few seconds he just looked at his burning cigarette. Smoke rose from the embers like incense. He knew soldiers prayed like this. In small ways, with muttered words and big, fearful hearts. Always right before bloodshed. How long would he be able to contain his rage now? Not long. Not long at all. Blood would have to be spilled. In name of Olympus.

Slowly but deliberately Ares raised the cigarette and took one long drag as he pulled out his phone and began to type something. A message. With an address, a room number and a four-digit code. He sent it. None knew it yet, but outside the room gears started spinning. Preparations were made. Money moved as zeroes and ones automatically. Thick, black smoke bellowed from out of Ares’ nose. The cigarette itself was firmly put out on the tablet before him. Sure to burn a spot into the fake wood.

Then, Ares finally snapped. Without a word, without a cry or shout, he shot up. Sending his chair flying backward akin to Hera’s. With his left hand, he grabbed the table. A moment later it was flying out of his way with devastating force. With his right, he drew the silenced pistol from his coat and aimed it squarely at the Yoruban god Shango. There was nothing to see on his face. No bitter look of hate. No glee. No satisfied grin. He was cold, except for his eyes which burned with a fire that consumed forests.

Interacting with: @The Ghost Note
In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
“Slaves! Buy your slaves here! They’re young! They’re strong! Obedient! Broken, by the promise of Sallazar. I promise you at least three years in the mine before they shall succumb!” All other slavers shouted some variation of this at the slave markets. Some slavers had to do with raised wooden platforms. Others, more established ones, had their own stone carved podium. Upon which the bound humans and goblins stood. Often in the presence of guards ready to throw a slave down to the ground should he choose to misbehave. City guards were patrolling the streets here as well in greater numbers.

Silas walked through the throng of people with relative ease. He grew up in the slave market. Where his father had often invested in mine-slaves. With a discerning eye the man knew which slaves to get and which to slip. It was the little things. Nails, teeth, hair. Disease was a wretched thing that could destroy even the best of stock. You wanted it nowhere near your slaves. His sapphire eyes darted form stone podium to stone podium in search of some good slaves to work in the Labyrinth. Hauling out that which was found, or perhaps serve as fodder during the exploration. They were, after all, just slaves.

“Anything catching your eye?” Asked Nidar, another Mystic who had been stalking the slave market for suitable stock. Silas shook his head. “I’ve found a handful of strong ones. Got two goblins as well.”

“Goblins are useless in the mines. How do you think they’ll perform in the ruins?” Asked Silas. Skeptical of his friend’s purchases.

“No worries. The goblins are a gift for father on the farms. He can always use some extra help. Anyway, I heard Fasthus has some new stock. Maybe we should go check that.”

“Should we really work with the mage poisoner?” Asked Silas, sounding quite apprehensive. Most of the nobles had no issue with Fasthus and his methods, but it irked the young Mystic quite a bit that his poison could render one’s magic entirely inert. Nidar didn’t seem to care though, as he was already heading for Fasthus’ podium. The stone carvings upon the podium were all about that one, red tree he had found as a sapling. The tree that allowed him to break mage-slaves. Opening up a whole new market for Anghebad. They weren’t exceptionally popular, but some nobles bought them as status symbols. On the two front corners of the podium stood two gnarly olive trees upholding the canopy. Allowing the slaver and his slaves some shade. Closer to the back there were various stone statues carved not in the shape of the usual olive trees but in the shape of the mystical tree of Fasthus. Around each were his more…exotic slaves chained.

As the two mystics walked past one of the more unassuming slaves, what might have once been a healthy young woman now ravaged by hunger and spite softly spoke, seemingly to nobody in particular in off-key sing-song whisper, “Deep blue eyes, and yet still so blind. The defiler will soon meet his fate, may this city go tumbling after.”

The two looked at each other. Their rather new, sapphire eyes definitely made them stand out from the crowd. Yet there was something odd about the woman. Beyond her ravaged looks. She would make a terrible house slave because of that alone. Her bindings didn’t help either. Two separate ropes around her arms were tightly drawn together. “Looks like Fasthus has trouble with one.” Nidar joked.

Silas was slightly more interested. His paranoia would not allow him to simply carry on after such a threat. The defiler? What did that even mean? He stepped in closer to the podium while yelling. “Fasthus! Who is that woman over there?”

Hiseras, one of Fasthus’ younger sons, walked up, “Father is doing business elsewhere. But that woman, I don’t know much about her except her ropes keep getting undone and she keeps saying weird things. Now, I don’t think you are here for gossip. What are you actually looking for?”

“Shut up.” Silas said as he crawled up the podium to get closer to the woman. Not a usual thing to do. Especially when not invited, but Silas knew he was protected by the Queen. All Mystics were. He stared the woman close in the eyes. “We got a gift from a god, mages are get tests and rewards from thin air and the ground just opened up. Revealing secrets older than our city. But I’m supposed to believe this is just coincidence?” He asked Hiseras, even though he was looking at the woman. His intuition was screeching in his mind. “Tell me about the defiler.” He finally asked her.

The woman began giggling to herself, “You have the intelligence to solve any puzzle, but not the wisdom to know where the boundaries between are. You have received a gift from a god, but you are not the only one, nor is there only one god. Our meeting is as coincidental as the rain pouring upon the soil.”

Silas remained silent for a while. A group of people was gathering around the stone podium now as well. Curious after what was unfolding. “What’s your gift then?” He asked.

The woman seemed no more serious than before, “Why are you certain with the words of a slave. How could a slave know of the will of the gods unless they heard their voice? I am sure you are more interested in the words of the magisters and merchants. Some of them say that I am mad. Others say I am cursed. One claimed I was not human. None of them” her face began to sour for a moment, before suddenly smiling again, “claimed that I was gifted.”

“Magisters are too proud to admit others are better gifted at times.” Silas said. It wasn’t a lie. The first God-Forged spell wasn’t visible to the eldest of the Magister Caste. It was seen by a foreigner, Enura and a handful of younger mages. “Merchants only want silver. They’ll spin whatever story they have to.” He continued as he examined the woman. “You… can do things. Can’t you? Tell me about it.” Right then Hiseras tried to interject. Raising only a finger but Silas saw it. He turned and snapped: “Shut! Up!” Before calmly turning back to the slave woman. “Tell me what you can do.”

The woman's voice lowered, but her tone became more naturally pleasant instead of the exaggerated happiness she spoke with before, “I can see beyond the walls. I can see beyond the sky. I can see how insignificant of a speck this city truly is.”

The Mystic smiled. Answers. Finally. And answers meant a reward. It was how you trained slaves, dogs and stupid people. So he held his hand over the strange woman’s bindings. Embers sizzled upon the ropes. Eating their way through the bindings until the woman was entirely free. “How do you see so far?” He nearly whispered. “Can you teach it?”

“I can not see into your maze. All I see is the dark, circular maw leading to violence and confusion, as well as the crystal which breathes, though it seems you have already slain several of those guardians.” she stated, seemingly uncaring that her ropes were burnt.

Nidar and Silas looked at eachother. Concern was all over their faces. She knew a lot for a slave. Too much even. Did she see the Labyrinth? No, no she had only arrived recently on the slave market. She had to have. Which meant she would’ve been a slave even before the Labyrinth appeared. “Find Hiseras. Tell him he got a customer for his slave. Pay whatever he asks. Don’t haggle.” Silas said. Even though Nidar and him were technically of the same rank the other still obeyed and walked away. Silans, meanwhile, turned back at the woman and repeated his question: “Can you teach us how to see so far out?”

The woman paused, “The price of my secrets is not my own freedom. Buy and free Anlil, and once she is safely free of this place and do so on the word of the sun, moon and stars, I shall tell you what I know regardless of whether it is kind to your ears. Do not think I can be deceived with hollow words or intentions.” she said, her eyes glaring into mystics.

Without hesitation Silas looked up and shouted: “Nidar! Free Anlil!” The word ‘free’ instantly caused a commotion. Slaves were rarely freed. It happened so little that there wasn’t even a formal way to do it. You just bought the slave and told them they were free.

“A-are you sure?” Nidar asked as he hurriedly came over. Together with Hiseras who heard silver speaking.

Silas didn’t doubt thought: “Do it. Buy her and free her.” Nidar and Hiseras began to exchange words about price. Hiseras because he knew he could milk this cow for all its worth and Nidar for not wanting to pay half his worth to free a single slave. Eventually, and still surprisingly quickly, the two came to an agreement, shook hands and Hiseras went to get Anlil. “She’s free.” Silas said.

The woman paused, seemingly as though the world faded her around her. “Take her one day away from the city and leave her there. I will tell you what I know, but I doubt you would wish for me to speak of such matters in public.”

“Indeed.” Silas said, nodding to Nidar. Who took the girl by the name of Anlil and led her away. Much to the amazement of the crowd that had gathered. In that confusion, Silas too took the strange woman with him. Heading towards the main gate as well. Only there their paths separated. Nidar took the girl over the main road. Which led to a handful of eastern tribes. Meanwhile Silas brought the mad woman to the Labyrinth itself. The place where the Queen herself was staying at for the most time now.

The woman convinced them to wait a day before discussing the matter, but she could stall them no longer, nor did she have any further need to. Whenever she finally started to explain herself, she started with, “As you might know, the gods stir once again. The callous one granted you your azure eyes, while the kindly one is the one who granted me my sight. My gift is a certain closeness to the gods that allows me to be aware of what only they can see. I can teach you how to grow closer to the kindly one, but it would be a pointless endeavor as not within his good graces.”

The woman was speaking in riddles though. Silas leaned in. “Who is the kindly one? What does he teach?” He asked. Meanwhile Enura, the queen, stood a bit behind him. Going back and forth. Restless but suspicious. The rest of the Mystics were away, tending to their duties. But those who passed couldn’t hide their curiosity.

“He is the lord that which is beyond the sun and moon, who governs over the magic which binds god and man in dialogue and who acts to grant guidance and preserve hope. But your simplistic understanding of him is as a cat who is merely the god of night. It is by his will that I can communicate with him, but understanding it and plucking at the magical threads that connect the near and far.” she stated.

The night cat? Silas turned towards Enura. Who was already shaking his head. This woman was spouting nonsense. And she seemed rather hellbent on insulting those who quite literally owned her. Only mad people had such confidence. Silas, resigning that his search might be for naught, stood up and approached his queen.

“Apologies.” He said, sincerely. “I thought we were on to something here but..”

“But she’s stark raving mad.” Enura was quick to add. Her piercing eyes still on the woman. “You’re sure Hiseras wasn’t spinning some tale about her unwinding her bindings? A ploy to profit from our curiosity?”

“I wouldn’t put it past his father.” Silas admitted, looking around almost in shame. He hated this feeling. To have been defeated. It was a costly lesson as well. “I want to keep going. See if we can’t at least squeeze something out of her. Something concrete. Something useful.”

The queen pondered for a second upon Silas’ insistence. “Very well. You got till midday. If she got nothing concrete, she goes underground as a hauler. But Silas, don’t let her spin you a story just because you bought her for too much. If she’s useless, she’s useless and you drop her like a rock. You understand?”

The Mystic just nodded and the queen left. Having no patience for wasted time. She returned to the Labyrinth. Silas for his part returned to the women. “My queen is getting impatient.” He looked up, trying to find the sun. “You don’t have much time left. Give us something concrete. Something we can learn.”

The woman seemed apathetic, “I have started to teach you, but I can’t force you to listen. I am doing this to repay a debt, and nothing more. Should you reject my words, so be it. But perhaps I should start with something simpler. Mana is everywhere and it is far more versatile than simply burning ropes. But your senses are not heightened to the point where you can properly leverage this. You are shouting for it to bind to your will where as a whisper would be far more effective.”

Silas genuinely laughed at her. Oh how wrong he was at the market. This woman. If he was amongst the magisters, her mere existence would be shameful for him. If he was a magister he would’ve killed her right here, right now. If only for her condescending nature and her straight up insults. “Sure, I am taught by the extension of the nameless one but I’m the one who uses his gift wrong.” He said with an almost mad laugh. “You know nothing and you have wasted my time.” Silas stood up with the intension of dragging her to the pit himself.

Instead, as he heard something. It called for him. Like faint whispers upon the wind. Not echoing but seemingly slowly drifting. They emanated from a piece of stone they had retrieved from the pit. A part of a golem. Like all parts, it was intricately carved but entirely solid. The part was close, so he approached it. Running his fingers over the carved glyphs. His mouth slowly moved, making sounds he did not recognize himself. But as quickly as the sensation came, it also vanished again.

The woman casually stated, “It seems as though the callous one has taken an interest in our conversation. If you will not listen to me, I can teach you how to listen to them.”

It was like coming down from a high. At first, the world felt open. Revealing its secrets to him. Then it vanished again. For a split second the world felt dull and empty but his normal senses returned. Showing him everything that was familiar. It was a start, and he would have to report it to Enura. But first he turned to look at the mad woman. “And why should I listen now?” He asked. “The callous one took an interest. Not your kindly one. What would you know of it?”

The woman replied, “I could sense their presence because they permitted me to sense their presence. My gift concerns magic and prayer, those do not change depending on who you pray to.”

“The Nameless One, your… callous one, he doesn’t answer prayers. He doesn’t listen to them. Never has. Not in 2000 years. You know how we know when stories are false? It’s when we hear a hero talked to the god of magic. Or real magic. So how can you help me? Because magic… and prayer just changed.” Silas said, sounding genuinely fed up with the woman.

The woman replied, “I do not pretend to know the whims of the callous one, but magic is like a web. I can show you how to see the individual threads and how to pluck them. While I imagine that this could be difficult to find anything in the grand web of creation this way, who do you think is at the center of the web?”



In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
The camp had been torn down and packed up, with goods carried on men’s backs or in carts drawn by quillats. The only thing that would be left behind was Titania, on her metal table. Some had objected to leaving her, while others had wanted to stay behind, but Carn overruled them, and they obeyed. Even Lothar had been swayed. The cloak at work, once again.

Now, it was time to continue down the road, with Carn taking his place at the head of the column. But he had not taken five steps before something else happened.

From across the crest of the hill came Auriëlle’s raiding party. Gone for about eleven days with little warning ahead of time. They left on foot, but came back with two carts filled with food and some riches. At the head of the warband walked Auriëlle. Confident. Bordering on cocky even. Behind her she dragged the Ketrefian nobleman. The man looked haggard, but mostly untouched. “Hail Carnelian.” She shouted almost as a taunt. “I bring you a gift.” She pulled the nobleman’s ropes so he’d come forward. Then pushed him on his knees. “The gift of information. This man’s a noble from Ketrefa. Could be useful to hear him out.”

For a moment, Carn only looked at her. Then, he shook his head. “It’s just Carn,” he corrected her, before stepping forward. “So what do you have to say to me?” he asked the nobleman.

It would appear the sudden appearance before the nemesis of Ketrefa gave the nobleman a moment of courage. “The city will never fall to the likes of you!” He shouted, before spitting at Carn. A moment later he was kicked in the side, hard, by Auriëlle. After which she pulled him up and put him on his knees again while this time holding him by his neck. “Again, what’s happening in Ketrefa?” She ordered, her voice ice cold.

The nobleman looked up, his courage instantly broken. “The city… You can never take it. The walls are god-made! They’ve stood for 2000 years. Cadien has even sent us his own champion! You can never win. Never!”

“A competent attempt at a bluff,” Carn nodded. “But the thing is,” he drew his sword, and rested it against the nobleman’s throat. “I’m Cadien’s champion. He forged this blade himself. And I have more than him on my side too - this cloak was woven by Neiya.” He flicked his wrist and drew a small trickle of blood. “Now then, do you have anything useful to tell me or is your actual goal here just to waste my time?”

“It’s impossible.” The wide eyed noble said. “The champion wields the hammer. He brought peace to Ketrefa. United even the vile cultists sullying the name of Neiya in defense of the city. You… You cannot be. You cannot be!” Auriëlle knocked him out right then, before looking up at Carn to say: “He was getting frantic. You can negotiate himself further after he wakes up.” Several of her own warband pulled up the limp body of the nobleman and carried it away.

“So marching already huh?” She asked. “A shame. I wanted some more fun. I heard about a few more farmsteads.”

“Time is short,” Carn told her. “We should have started marching much earlier than this, but there was a… delay.” Then he frowned. “What exactly have you been doing?”

“Having fun.” She teased with a smile while pointing back at the two carts. “So what’s with the delay? Any of the chieftains got in a fight?”

He shook his head. “No, I have that under control now. The problem was something else. I had to leave Titania behind.”

Auriëlle quite visibly frowned. “Why?” Did they have a falling out? Did she break them apart? That was wonderful! Oh she would have to visit that piece of clearly holier-than-thee armor now!

“She wanted me to kill you. I said no. She wanted me to burn this cloak. I said no. She kept second-guessing my decisions, and I said no. Gave us some armour before I left her, but for some of us it didn’t even fit.” He shook his head in frustration. “I suppose you were right.”

The sorceress through her head back before doubling over from laughing. She couldn’t believe it. She was gone for eleven days and in that time it all went to hell with Titania. That was amazing! For a second she wondered if she should mention she too got a little gift from Neiya. But then refrained from it. Carn didn’t need to know, yet. “Alright, been a pleasure talking to you but I’ve got a lump of cold metal to have a chat with! I’ll catch up!” She said as she started to pass Carn and head back to where the camp first was.

Carn turned and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Aurielle, wait.”

She stopped, almost let out a groan of annoyance but did roll her eyes. What’s next? A lecture? A plea? She didn’t believe Carn was back to how Carn should be. There was still something soft about him. Maybe it was the whole deal with his brother. She turned around none the less. “What is it?”

“Just forget about her. There’s no sense in antagonizing an avatar.”

“I’m not going to antagonize her.” She exclaimed, sounding almost innocent as she did. “I’m just going to have a lovely chat with her.” If you didn’t know Auriëlle, you’d think she’s sincere.

“Your last lovely chat with her nearly burned down the camp,” he said drily. “You can’t kill her and you can’t change her views. Taunting her will only provoke her, and I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

“Oh please.” She said she pulled her shoulder free. “I’ll be fine.” Of course it was sweet of Carn to worry about her. Of course she wished he would do it more. It was cute. Just… not in front of everyone. “If she wanted me dead she would’ve killed me twelve days ago. She didn’t then and she won’t do it now.” She turned around to walk away again.

All she heard was a resigned sigh. And a few moments later, a signal was given for the column to resume marching. She received various looks as she passed by the hundreds of men. Those who recognized her glared. But most did not, instead giving her looks of curiosity, attraction, or simple boredom. Many did not even notice her at all.

She waited a little until the camp was actually cleared. Overlooking the plains where they had resided. It was still scarred from the camp. With a strange, lonely table in the middle of it all. Looking rather like an abandoned altar than anything else. Unafraid Auriëlle walked closer. “We’re finally alone.” She said with a smirk.

The armour was silent. Then, in the blink of an eye, the earth surrounding Auriëlle erupted. The stone morphed and warped into bricks, and coiled around her with lightning speed like a giant snake seeking to constrict its prey. It spun around her like a whirlpool, no doubt with enough momentum and coarseness to grind her into goo.

For a second it appeared as if Auriëlle had been consumed. Then a humanoid figure made of stone shot through the coiling whirlwind of stone. Once through, the stone crumbled off, revealing Auriëlle once more. Not untouched though. The stone had scraped her left arm, which was bleeding quite heavily. Though it looked worse than it was. Small nubs of horns were sprouting in between her hair. “So you can hurt me without someone wearing you. That’s good to know.” She said rather casually. Though her heart was beating inside her chest. It made her excited! It had been so long since she was actually challenged. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

A stone tendril twisted itself around her leg, stopping her dead in the air. The tendril then hammered her against the ground with crackling force. Two stone towers then sprouted up on either side of her, before crumbling into tonnes upon tonnes of rock, raining down over her mercilessly. ”Not only do you come to me, demoness, but you also carry with you your haughty, taunting demeanour! It’s almost as though you are glutton for extermination!”

Shock went through Auriëlle when the tendrils grabbed her. The force with which they threw her to the ground knocked more than just the wind out of her. With a nasty crack several of her bones broke. For a second her entire mind was overtaken by pain. Allowing her only to scream before the adrenaline made everything feel numb and distance. Then the shadows rose. She didn’t think but just embedded her fingers into the ground. Right before the first bricks fell roots broke through the earth. Wrapping themselves around the sorceress. Moments after the last brick fell, the cocoon of roots pushed the stone off of itself to reveal the red-headed girl with larger horns cat-like eyes as if she was a flower. Roots were supporting her as her body was too battered to let her stand on her own. Wisps of smoldering cloth floated away into the air as she held the oaken branch against her chest. Healing the wounds while forcing: “Truce?” Out of her throat.

The weight on the roots intensified. Another set of towers had collapsed over her. Auriëlle was still healing herself. The roots carried her some distance away from Titania and harm's way as well. Before they were crushed with a wet splat by the two new towers. The sorceress collapsed on her knees. Wounds were healing, but not fast enough. The growing horns on her head were beginning to curl now. “Could you stop!? I just want to talk! I’m not even fighting back.” She yelled, at the top of her lungs. Before coughing up blood.

”I have nothing to talk to you about, and you have no business talking to me, you fiend! You spawn of evil! You wicked witch!” The line along the ground between them sprouted a wave of stone spears, shooting up like the jabs of a phalanx.

Some of the spears missed, others would’ve hit her if they didn’t crumble by Auriëlle magic. One though. One looked as if it would’ve hit her square in the stomach. But then it veered off. Pushed away by some invisible power to only cut her tight. The wound was nasty but not life threatening. “Why--!” The ground beneath her exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, just barely mitigated by a quick-witted shield spell. “... Am I the evil one!?” The shrapnel she dodged melted into stone darts, swarming her like rabid hornets. She screamed out, finally fed up by the self-righteousness of Titania. “I freed slaves!” The darts that didn’t hit her melted back into the earth, and rose back up as more spears, stabbing upwards from the soil at the positions she stood at just milliseconds earlier. “I broke their chains while you lay on your metal altar. Too--” Nearby trees fell over, and their trunks were sliced into bucklers, which were thrown after the sorceress like disks. “-- Too pure to even try and understand us mortals. What do you even know about me other than what you told yourself!?”

”You selfishly follow your own desires and commit atrocities as easily as you breathe. When we first met, you attempted to destroy me for no reason other than that you felt like it. That alone tells me what sort of person you are.” The armour glared at her from its table. ”If you have freed slaves, you did it not for the freedom of those people; you did it because you enjoyed killing the slavers…” The ground quaked again as though new stone towers began to form. ”Have you any last words, fiend? Or will you simply gloat until the very end, like you do so well?”

She didn’t gloat. Nor did she speak her last words. The second she saw those towers rise, lose stone flew towards her. Encasing her into what looked like a tomb before she was pulled away through the air. Far, far from Titania. Within the air Auriëlle did her best to slow herself down with the wind, trying to aim where Carn’s army would be. But there was only so much she could do before the stone around her crumbled away again. She finally fell to the ground, breaking her bones again and making the fractures she had even worse. Yet perhaps whatever god there was of luck or fate would not see her perish just yet. The Oaken Branch touched her face. Slowly but surely healing the sorceress’ unconscious body.


She awoke hours later, in a lumpy bed on a rickety cart meant to carry wounded. The sun was high in the sky, but once her eyes adjusted, she saw that Carn himself was sitting nearby. He had not noticed her awakening, instead sitting on the back edge of the cart with a dagger drawn. Every now and then he would jab the blade into one of his fingers, and watch the flesh knit back together.

“That was by far the stupidest thing I’ve done.” She said with a groan. Her body ached. The Oaken Branch, laying on her arm, was still doing its work. The blanket was stained with blood spots all over. Yet there was a little smile on her face. A smile of satisfaction.

Carn turned, and looked at her with a sigh of relief. Then the relief quickly faded, and he smirked. “Now you remember why it’s a good idea to trust my judgement.”

“We had fun.” She managed to say before uttering an ow from some stiff muscle. Then her tone grew a little somber. “You used to be that, you know. Fun.”

The smirk faded, and he fell into a long silence.

There was only one way really to interpret that silence. She laid back down, content to stare up at the blue sky. Clutching the Oaken Branch closer to her and checking if the necklace and disk she got were still with her.

Even though Auriëlle was used – sometimes even preferred – silence, she hated it now. She hated it when it happened between her and Carn. They used to talk for entire nights. Now it felt like there was nothing to say. It was unbearable. “Where’s Esiré?” She finally asked with a neutral, if not bit icy, tone.

Carn shrugged. “She kept clinging to you, so I told her to give us some space. I reckon she’s still nearby.”

She hated that answer. She hated what it meant. Esiré wouldn’t come close till Carn left. She kept silent for some time. Until she asked: “Why are you here?”

“Because…” Carn began, but then his voice trailed off. “I think you know why,” he finally said, after a few moments of thought.

Suddenly an entirely different thought shot through her head. She set up to look at Carn. “Say it.” She said in a weird mixture of both plea and command.

“Because I love you,” he confessed, almost too quickly.

Auriëlle reached over to him, not caring that her body was in pain as she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close for a kiss.

He returned it, and held it, as he wrapped his arms around her. But then, after a few moments past, he suddenly became conscious of several sets of eyes on them - soldiers walking behind the cart - and he reluctantly pulled away. “Come to my tent later tonight,” he whispered.

“Not afraid I’ll burn it down?” She teased, though she did release him. If it was up to her, she wouldn’t have cared they were in a cart but well… he was the commander. So slowly she laid down again. With several ouchs and ows, realizing her body still wasn’t in good shape. “You should’ve come with me you know.” She then said once down. “It was really fun!”

Carn shrugged. “I did go back for you, but it was too late. Probably for the best, being honest. I spent months listening to that armour preach. Any more and I might have been driven mad.”

“Ha!” Auriëlle loudly proclaimed, before having a coughing fit. Still, she had a big smile on her face. “She’s going to have the best time on this planet. Preaching against the goddess of love while only letting those who are apparently selfless wear her. Selfless? Here!? What does she want, a child?” The sorceress laughed out loud. “We’re better off without her.” She then followed up as she calmed down a little.

Carn nodded slightly, as he looked ahead. “I’m expected to be at the front of the column,” he told her. “Are you able to join me, or do you still need to rest?”

“I should be able-“ Auriëlle tried to say as she tried to get up. Only for her body to sternly protest against any type of movement. Quite quickly she fell back down. “Nope. I’m going to be smart for once and not push it.” She admitted. “Go lead your army, Carn.”






In 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP} → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

ARES
ARES' APPARTEMENT, SEATTLE
GOD OF WAR

“Honey! You need to wake up!”

Ares barely comprehended the voice as he groaned. His mind was muddled, but his body registered the softness underneath. It was good. Safe. Nice. Nothing hurt. He hadn’t fought yesterday. That was good. It meant he was at his peak. Everything was good. Everything was sweet. His mind drifted away again. Content to embrace the comfort for a little longer. Just a little longer.

Then he felt something different. Suddenly the comfort, the sweetness, it paled completely compared with the soft lips pressed on his. He didn’t open his eyes as he reached out. Stroking who he knew was Julie’s cheeks as they kissed. He drew it out as long as he could, though eventually, she pulled back. Causing him to open his eyes. In front of him was a big cup of coffee, with wisps of steam flowing out of it. Held up by Julie wearing nothing but his white chemise, which looked far too big on her, and a big smile. “You have to wake up.” She said softly.

Ares groaned again, took the cup, put it on his nightstand and then grabbed Julie and pulled her on top of him. She yelped and laughed as he embraced her and started kissing her. She playfully tried to fight him off but stopped as Ares began to kiss down her neck. For a second she let him, before pulling away again. “You have to get up.” She repeated. Letting his head fall back, he released her. “You’ve got that big meeting in an hour, remember?”

How could he forget? He downed the coffee as if it was cold and went to the bathroom. Every morning in the mirror he could see the countless scars on his body. The long gashes on his back were the biggest ones. Though never the most painful ones. The most painful ones were on his wrists. Small cuts. Smaller than an inch. Julie had touched them all, though never asked about them. Someday he would talk about them to her. In honesty, there was a laundry list of things he would have to talk about. Today was not that day though. He shoved the thoughts away again as he started to get ready for the Conclave.

Half an hour later he was downstairs. Julie was in the kitchen, preparing fresh juice while dancing to some song on the radio. The second he stepped inside the kitchen she turned to offer him a glass of orange juice and a kiss. “Be good.” She said with a vixen’s smile before going upstairs. “I love you!” He shouted up the stairs. “And I love you! Now go, you’re going to be late for whatever it is you’ll be late for!” She shouted and as always she was right. Ares downed the orange juice and jumped into his car.

There were many ways to experience rage in this world. But only in the last hundred years did humanity seem to have it down to an art. Road rage was something Ares experienced from time to time but not today. Today his BMW ripped through the streets of Seattle with ease and some recklessness. Something didn’t fit right though. Why was a conclave called now? Ares hated not knowing. It had to be something big. He parked quite violently at the University’s parking lot. Not knowing and frankly not caring whether it was a spot for teachers or students or other people. Why did he have to go here of all places? Why didn’t The Morrigan just ask? Ares could’ve set up a grand conference room in some hotel with catering and whatnot. Instead, they’d have to sit in some stuffy room otherwise used by self-important tenured professors that pretended they mattered in society. Universities were places for his sister. For the so-called thinking people. He carried that disdain on his face as he marched through the halls. Through the windows, he saw the sun suddenly breaking through the clouds. What idiot chose to make today sunny?

Ares entered the room in perhaps a slightly theatrical manner. Opening the doors perhaps a little too forceful. The room was less than half empty. How could so many gods be so late still? Some of the gods present he knew, like Kore and Hypnos. But none were here yet that he talked to. So he just took his seat, happy with the fact that he’d be seated next to Apollo and pulled out a cigarette. Before anyone could possibly say anything, he lit it up, blowing out the first bored puff of smoke.
In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
“You’re distracted.” Auriëlle said as she walked beside Esiré. A girl who was quickly becoming a close friend. All of those who had come from Nallan were getting dear to her. They fought with a ferocity she could only respect. But ever since they burned the farmstead, the young girl had been obsessed with a satchel filled with clay tablets. Right now she was holding one with a flame etched upon the clay.

Esiré looked up only moments later. “Oh, I’m sorry I just…it’s fascinating.” She handed one of the tablets to Auriëlle, before taking another one out of the satchel. “It’s magic etched in stone. I didn’t think it was possible.”

The sorceress let out a laugh, a genuine one, as she listened and observed the tablet. “Because you saw me just moving my hands and cast magic?” She asked.

“Well…yes. I’ve tried it, it didn’t work.” Esiré admitted, as she received the tablet back from Auriëlle. Quite gently she put both pieces back into the satchel and let it hang off her shoulder down to her hip again. “It seems as if I don’t have a talent for magic.”

“Neither did I when I was your age.” Auriëlle noted. “Day and night I tried to get a fire going. Never worked. Where I come from, you were either taught how to fight or how to cast magic. So we approached magic like others approached swordfighting.”

“So it can be learned?” Esiré asked.

“It can, but it’s not easy. I’m not entirely sure what happened. One day… a stone just came falling down from the night sky. Shadows appeared but I burned them. Then I ran.” Auriëlle never felt homesick. She never even missed Acadia. But those memories did make her feel a little sad. “Since then my power only grew and it would seem it gained me the attention of several gods.”

“You think… I could learn?” Esiré asked, enraptured by the idea of using magic.

“Sure you can!”

That night Esiré took three more of her trusted people with her, away from the fire. It was early in the evening but the purple moon was making enough light for them now. She led them to a secluded clearing, where several bowls of water were waiting. And Auriëlle, sitting crossed-legged in front of one. The member of the cult greeted her by bowing deeply and sitting on their knees before the bowls.

“You know why you’ve come?” Asked the sorceress as her pupils sat down. It felt strange to have actual students now. She never saw herself as a teacher. Then again, she really wasn’t. She was just going to show them how to summon a demon. It was a spell even she could use.

Everyone in the circle nodded. They came for magic. To learn the easiest spell according to Auriëlle. The spell to summon a demon.

“Good. Then let us begin. I’m going to recite the spell and then I want you all to repeat it again.” They nodded, and Auriëlle said the spell. Some of her students had to be corrected. While it was a simple spell, Auriëlle didn’t want to know what would happen if you bungled it up. When she was confident the spell was well memorized, she silenced them all. Then she actually summoned a demon from the bowl before her. Outstretching her hand above it as she spoke the words of the spell. Golden fire rippled across the water’s surface, before the water turned dark with a red glow. Slowly she raised her hand. Drawing up a blob of the strange liquid. Once the mass was drawn out and separated from the water, it began to take shape. Within seconds it was shaped like a wolf with a split mouth and two eyes too many one side, with a scorpion tail. Once dropped to the ground, it walked around Auriëlle and obediently sat down next to her. Then she bid her pupils to do the same.

The spell was carefully recited but one man held his hand far too close to the water. Before he could finish, she pushed his bowl away. Probably saving him from being consumed by the dangerous mass. “Never touch it.” She almost hissed, before drawing the bowl closer and letting him try again. The others were more careful. Within moments the golden flames appeared, and minutes later the first demons spawned. They took various but small shapes. A bird, an small rat, a cat-like creature. Esiré’s demon took the shape of a snake, which soon slithered up around her arm. It was by far the most intricately formed demon.

With the lesson completed everyone dispelled their demon. Some already felt exhausted by the effort of summoning the creature. Most slipped in a dreamless sleep. Most, but not Esiré. Who sat wide awake watching the stars. Her mind obsessing over her Prophetess’ magic, the runes on the clay tablets and the demonic mass she had conjured up.

In the early morning Gundurr approached the young pupil, leading her away from the group. “I know what you’ve been doing. I know what you are.” The chieftain said as he grabbed her arm to make her stop.

Esiré just looked up with a frown. “What have I been doing?” She asked, yanking her arm free.

The chieftain let a small smile crack. “Nobody sacrifices people around here.” He whispered.

“Maybe they should.” Esiré sneered back.

Gundurr got a dark expression. “Careful, girl. If you’re talking about the matters of gods you might be blaspheming. No god in this land asks for blood.”

For a second Esiré kept silent. But then she said: “Yes they do. They ask for it all the time. I’ve heard the story of Evenstar. Cadien demanded the blood of your village when Carn and Auriëlle came. You and yours bled for them.”

“We did it to get rid of bandits.” Gundurr defended. “Gods or no gods, they had to go.”

“Did they?” Esiré shot back. “I heard the story. Your village only rallied because Carn called for it. Carn, who was declared leader of your village by some madman speaking in the name of Cadien. Your gods ask for blood too.” She turned around to march back to the rest of the group. But Gundurr grabbed her by the arm again. Suddenly there was a bone knife against his throat. “Want to be sacrificed as well.

“No.” He said, softly, as he released her arm. “But you speak of my gods. Then who are your gods? Who do you worship that you’d bleed a man dry for him?”

Esiré grinned. She was alone with him. For the first time she could enjoy to speak freely of what she believed. “The gods that will kill us all. The gods that will destroy this world. The gods of the end. This world is already doomed. But we will be reborn in the next one. Free of all that burdens us now. We shall bring it about. By our blood and stone.” With those words said, she put the knife away and walked away. Leaving a stunned Gundurr.

That evening Esiré sat hunched over a coyote. It was dead. A clean arrow to its head finished it off quickly. It was a scrawny thing, with little meat. She didn’t kill it for the meat though. With her copper knife she was deftly cutting away the connective tissue between the skin and the body at large. The meat that it had would be scrapped off and used in a stew. While the bones would act as trophies perhaps. Some of the viscera she had removed already laid in a pile beside her. By the end of tomorrow it would all be gone. Consumed by carrion eaters.

Quite wordlessly she was spinning her prayer with every cut. Praying to the god of Auriëlle. Praying to Thaën, god of death. Praying to the nameless god of magic, and then the nameless god of destruction. For the first time she realized how little she knew. She knew Oullena, goddess of the moon. Oraela, goddess of the sun. There was the famous Cadien. Yet at least two great gods had not offered up their names. She lookd up at the sky. It was twilight. One half of the heavens were dominated by Oraela’s sun. The other consumed by Oullena’s darkness. With Sigirus’ stars glittering in the night sky. Soon the pale moon would rise as well.

She stopped musing about divinity the second she heard the crack of branches. Instantly she shot up, pointing her knife towards whoever was coming, while she clutched for a tablet in her satchel. Gundurr, with his hands in front of him, appeared from the half-beaten dirt path. “Just me.” He said, carefully. Esiré lowered her blade, then turned around to continue her skinning.

“I knew you’d come.” She said facing away from him. Still sounding exceptionally confident. She didn’t really know why. Maybe it was the conviction with which she spoke her words early today. It felt as if they were more than just sounds. They were truths everyone would have to accept at some point. Truths that would not let go.

Gundurr kneeled before her, with the coyote in between them. For a moment he observed her work in silence. “Clean work.” He eventually said. “Who taught you?”

“My father. Before he died.” She answered, as she cut around the claws of the animal. Keeping them on its pelt. “Why are you here?”

Gundurr kept silent for a while. Esiré didn’t mind. The longer he was quiet, the further she’d get with the skinning in the twilight. Removing skin in the dark was a rather tiresome process. It would seem as if Gundurr understood this. Somehow. As he remained quiet until it was quite dark already. “You really believe the world will end? At the hands of the gods. Your gods?”

“I do.” Esiré said, without pause.

“How can you be so certain?” The chieftain asked.

“What do you know of Bul’Gadin?” Esiré asked as she removed some more viscera to throw on the pile.

“Nothing.”

“We burned it. To the ground. In the same way as we burned Teperia.” Esiré grabbed a piece of cloth and cleaned the blade. Quite surprisingly, there was that much blood on it. “But Auriëlle and a select few weren’t there. We were watching from afar. At a stone circle made by the druids. There, Auriëlle talked to the gods. One god told her that what she did, the destruction she had wrought was nothing compared to what’s to come.” She looked up, an intense fire burned in her amber eyes as they locked with those of Gundurr. “This world is doomed. It is wretched. False. Wicked. It took from me my parents. My life. My future. It would’ve taken my life, if I had let it. It was me against the world and she showed me that I was not alone in that fight.”

“I have people to care for.” Gundurr said, trying to defend the thoughts he could not deny any more. The world had taken things from him as well. Yet he was a chieftain.

“So do I.” Esiré said as she continued her skinning. “Believing the world will someday end does not mean you should resign from life. We don’t. We prepare for it. Auriëlle is the prophetess. Someday the gods will tell her it is time. This world will not end by divine hands. It will be mortals. Tearing each other apart. Ruining this world until there is nothing left but ash and blood. When that day comes, we will be ready to make sure there are no stragglers. No lose ends. A clean cut. So the next world can begin completely unshackled from this one.”

Again silence reigned for a few minutes. Until Gundurr asked another question: “By blood and stone. What does it mean?”

Esiré chuckled. “It means we sacrificed our blood. Not just us. Our children as well. And their children as well. We don’t know when the end comes. Tomorrow. Next winter. In a next life? Maybe someday our ancestors will have to carry our burden. By stone means by our every action. With every stone we lay, we accept and make sure that someday it can come crashing down.”

Gundurr grunted and gave her a curt nod before walk away again. Esiré kept to skinning the coyote, though she had a rather confident smile now. Next night, he’d be back. Asking more questions.



In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Few lights still burned within Anghebad. It was a city that honored the pale white moon. But while King Hamurai was a faithful and fervent king, he never could quite surrender himself to sleep at night. It was as if the darkness beckoned him to study. To explore his own mind and the knowledge within. Hoping to find that one connection, that one bridge to usher in a new golden age. Like the presence of Orb did. He hung over clay slates written from edge to edge, lit by dim candle light. His library had grown since the arrival of the Nameless God’s gift. The many tablet cases lined the wall, with the occasional torch making a pitiful attempt to light up the room. Even when the sun was high King Hamurai’s library had become a cramped and shadowy place.

Sadly, tonight his mind and the god of magic did not favor him. He was far too tired. Yet refused to give up. Instead he put down the slate and picked up the small, metallic looking dodecahedron. This too had been testing his mind for many nights now. The sides were marked with strange glyphs. He had tried many things, and to his own amazement the dodecahedron did open up twice already. Seemingly responding to a series of runic magic.

“Yes!” He suddenly heard screaming from outside. It came from the gardens and sounded like pure joy. The king dropped his puzzleknot and rushed outside. The pale half moon did not seemingly approve that mortals were still awake and chose to barely illuminate the gardens the green gardens. The tough-leafed hedges lead to the central plaza. The gentle white light created a splendid image. Within the plaza, near the pond which was for some reason a giant, levitating bulb of water, stood Enura. His queen and the love of his life.

Hamurai had expected her puzzleknot – an octahedron - in her hands. Enura had been almost obsessed about it. Instead she held a small circlet, adorned with a singular crystal at the front. It looked simple, yet elegant. “You finished the puzzle?” King Hamurai asked as he slowly approached his wife with a big smile.

When Enura turned to face him, the blob of levitating water crashed down into the pond again. Splattering water all around. It didn’t faze the queen. “Yes!” She exclaimed, then showed him the circlet. “It opened up completely and then there was this…light. Moments later this came out of it. What do you think it is?” She asked. Her eyes gleamed in the moon light.

The king took one of her hands to calm her, then he looked at the circlet. It held some markings, but none that he could recognize. “We should ask Orb, tomorrow. Come, it is late and I think the pale moon wants us to go to bed.” Then, several guards appeared, wielding large shields and curved copper swords. Probably to investigate all the noise. “And I think our guardians would like an easy night of duty.” He added.

Causing Enura to throw her arms around him and pull him in tightly. He returned the hug, and finished with a kiss before they both made their way to their smaller domicile. Though as they were nearly inside, a servant came running after them where they actually lived and slept.

“Lady Enura!” He screamed, much to the surprise of everyone. Rarely was Enura called upon within the palace. This was a place for the king. None the less he seemed to only have attention for the queen. Then King Hamurai noticed his eyes. Bright blue, just like his wife. In the passing year they had learned it to be the mark of those blessed by the Nameless gods. Akin to the rainbow eyes.

“What is it?” Enura asked as she stepped forward.

“The- We were- It just-“ The man seemed far too exhausted for his own excitement.

“Calm down.” Enura assured him. “Deep breaths first.”

The servant did as told and tried to catch his breath. Until he finally thought he would have enough and spoke: “We had seen a yellow mote again tonight. We came closer and closer and… my queen. The yellow mote. It was hovering over something. It was an opening in the ground.”

“Like a sandpit?” Enure asked.

“No. No! It was round. Perfectly round. It was so dark inside that we couldn’t see the bottom. We dropped torches and below… My queen there was a rock hard floor. Carved like I had never seen before.” The man said.

King Hamurai turned his attention towards the servant. “Are you sure?” He had studied the history of the city and its region. Nothing suggested there was something akin to their own civilization before them nearby. Though there were myths of ruins far off into the desert. Was this another mark of something that came before?

“I descended into the pit, my lord.” The sapphire eyed servant said, never taking his eyes off Enura. “You must come my queen. It’s-It’s marvelous and… we think there is more inside.”

“More?” Enura asked. “More spells?”

“We don’t know.” The man admitted. “There is something there. More than something.” The overly excited man said.

“Rest.” King Hamurai said, as he put his hand on his shoulder. “Tomorrow we can explore this opening in the light of the sun. It will bring clarity.”

For a moment the man seemed to want to plead with the king. But Hamurai’s eyes were uncompromising. They would rest and tomorrow they would explore this new found place.

The King made good on his promise. Sort of. He himself was stuck at court. Discussing a new source of slaves and hearing several nobles and magisters. Meanwhile Lady Enura travelled towards the hole in the ground. It was closer to Anghebad than expected. In fact, it was in a place she knew well. Near a small grove of gnarly olive trees. “This is new.” She said. Her circlet was on her head. Even though she still didn’t know what to do with it.

“It is.” The servant who went to get her said next to her. “The hole wasn’t here some days ago at least. A shepherd assured us. He knows this place like the back of his hand. Yet that hole, and everything below it, is new.”

The hole itself was rather large, and indeed, the room below was very dark. Though with the sun burning high, Enura could see the carved floor. It looked intricate. Each carving winding through each other like some grand dance of a hundred people was set in stone. Using a ladder she got down and instantly ran her hand over the carved floor. There was a depth to them as well. The carvings had almost impossibly small details to them. Yet none the less they weren’t fragile. She had never seen artisanry like this before.

Torches were lit downstairs. Allowing the Mystics to observe the round walls that were kept hidden from the sun. Most of it was, sadly, broken. But some parts showed a stone skeleton, wrapped around something that looked faintly human yet with certain odd things protruding its head.

“What are they?” Enura whispered to herself. Hoping to glean more information the more she looked. Though she wasn’t a historian like her husband. He would know. Somehow he always knew about these kinds of things.

“My lady!” Someone yelled from the other side of the room. Enura rushed over, only to see a fire-illuminated door. “It’s the only one in the whole chamber.” The Mystic that called her over said. Many were touching door but nothing happened.

Until Enura touched it. Something behind hit groaned to life. Like an ancient creature stirring from a century long slumber. The doors slowly began to move and open up. Revealing a corridor flanked by several statues. Some of them were broken. Others were looking remarkably intact. The Mystics shone the lights of their torches in, then slowly began to walk through the corridor. The younger Mystics were rushing ahead, towards the next door that would surely lead to even more rooms and corridors. Enura, meanwhile, took the time to observe the shattered statutes first. She shone her light on them, though could recognize the creatures they were supposed to represent. Again, their craftsmanship was peerless.

“What made you?” She whispered.

As if it was trying to obey her command, its eyes lit up with a soft blue hue. Enura darted back and saw shadows move, before her fellow Mystics cried out. Three of the statues had begun to move on their own. As if suddenly animated by their presence. A soft blue light seemed to emanate from in between the different pieces of black marble with white veins in it.

The Mystics were desperately trying to write their glyphs on their clay slates. Though often had to move away from the golems’ their attacks. A few managed to throw some debris against their attacks. With little success. The walking, stone monsters seemed to shrug off every impact. Even if parts of the stone they were made of crumbled away. The queen charged one of them, moving around him as she beckoned the still air in the corridor. Making it move and edgy. She dodged the golem’s attack. Moving with such grace that she was basically dancing around it. The large, cumbersome creature could barely keep up with her. Though as one of its fist came down hard and cracked a few of the tiles, she knew she was dancing between life and instant death. None the less the winds were obeying her commands. Flowing faster until its softly whistle could be heard. A soft whistle which she began to louden into a roar. The winds began to slash against the golem. Pushing it around. It moved to strengthen its stance, but Enura had already moved around it, sending in the winds from a different angle as she dodged a savage kick by mere inches. None the less the winds began to take their toll upon the golem. Finally it tripped and fell over on its back. Giving Enura a second of respite to observe her attacker in greater detail. In its chest she saw a crystal. It was with a brighter hue of blue than the rest of the golem.

With one hand she reached out to the intricately carved stone above. Orb had insisted that she would learn sorcery, despite its shortcomings. Now it was a life saver, as a few rocks about large enough to hold in her two hands, came crashing down. Breaking and then shattering the crystal core of the golem. The second the crystal was broken, it stopped glowing and collapsed entirely.

She turned to watch her fellow Mystics. One Golem laid in ruin. Brought low by a constant barrage of stones. The other one was pulled low as well, while other Mystics were still slamming rocks on to it in an effort to destroy it. “The crystal!” She shouted. “Break the crystal!” The Mystics looked up and noticed the mostly in tact golem laying underneath Enura. The rock projectiles were then quickly shifted towards the glowing crystal. When it was finally destroyed, all the Mystics collapsed on their knees. Exhausted from the sudden battle.

“How many are wounded?” Enura asked as she slowly walked up her sapphire eyed friends.

“Nine. Two are already dead.” One of the Mystics said.

Indeed, two bodies laid beside the broken golems. Their eyes open and looking glassy. Enura felt the blood drain from her face, but forced herself not to react. She didn’t ant any of this but what happened, happened.

“We should leave.” One of the Mystics said. Several other Mystics just nodded in agreement, too tired to do anything more.

“No.” Said Enura, turning towards the next grand door. “We just killed three of these things-“ she was pointing at the broken golems. “- and we’re not even going to open the next door? Move aside. We’re pushing on.”

A few Mystics moved away. Others held their ground, refusing to move and let her pass. She saw the defiance in their eyes. “Move.” She commanded, but the handful of Mystics, most of them bloodied, refused to budge. “Then leave me.” She said, with a resigned sigh. Surprised, the Mystics looked at each other.

One Mystic tried to plead with her: “My lady… We have three dead. There is no shame in-“

“There is more than just shame in it!” Enura shouted in his face, cutting him off. “Three dead and for what!? So we know these statues move? Bullshit. If you you’re not with me to make their sacrifices worth it, then leave. Go home and never show your face again. I got no use for you.” With those words, she pushed through the Mystics that were blocking her. They let her through without a fight. Though they started walking back towards the first chamber. Some remained around Enura as she gently touched the carved, stone door. Once again, it opened on its own.

Beyond it was not a corridor filled with statues. Instead it was a small antechamber, with the next large doors still closed. Though the antechamber itself was filled with grand vases. The Mystics, slowly, opened the vases. Expecting perhaps rotten food or something like that. Instead they began to shout in excitement as they pulled out silver baubles and a few gems. All in all, it was enough to give most of the Mystics a comfortable living for the next few years. But when their excitement burned out, they turned towards the large door. Human greed began to crawl up inside of them.



In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV → 6 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

It was late at night. People were asleep in their tents, or shouting loudly as they drank themselves into a stupor again. After the first week, camp life becomes dull. It takes a strong hand to maintain discipline. Auriëlle and five of her people snaked through the tent-camp. Tired eyes of the night guard watched them in passing, and then forgot all about them. They made their ways to a particular camp that was still being pretty lively. Fire burned brightly and their shouts were loud. A few hushed whispers, combined with some food, was enough for the ragged night watch to let them through.

When the chieftain’s tent flap opened, all eyes were on them. For a second there was tension in the air. Who else but killers would enter another man’s tent so unannounced. Then a crude laugh erupted from the chieftain. “Do my eyes lie to me now!” The chieftain thundered for the entire tent. He was a big man. Auriëlle barely recognized him, but she did recognize the banner: Evenstar. The man saw the confusion in her eyes: “It’s me! Gundurr! I haven’t gotten that ugly!” He roared. “I was the one who saved you back in Evenstar.”

“Wait… You’re the guard!” Something lit up in Auriëlle’s face. The two made their way through drunks and half-asleep people for an embrace. “Heavens you’ve grown big. How did you become chieftain of Evenstar!?”

“Well.” He began, guiding Auriëlle deeper into his tent before they both sat down at a low, unadorned table. “When you and Carn left and the whole election thing broke down, I thought ‘why shouldn’t I take the power’? You know what, Auri? It was way too easy. I just promised them peace and no more dead sons. With that promise you can get any peasant to like you. Well, the ones who should be liked.”

“Killed the rest?” Auriëlle asked as she took someone else’s cup of wine. They were about to protest but one glare was enough to shut them up, before her friendly expression returned. “No worries, I understand. I’m not that wandering little girl anymore.”

“I can see!” The old man said as he motioned to her guard of five, and then herself. “You know, you remind me of my daughter. You’re just as fierce.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died.” Gundurr said, his tone grew a little darker. “Illness took her three winters ago. No druids around. It’s tough to bury your own children. I like to think she’s in a better place but…” He shook himself out of his own sadness. Then his bashfulness returned: “I’m sorry, you’re not here for an old man’s tale.”

“I’m not.” Auriëlle said with a faint grin. “Ketia Farm, five days out with a small group. You want in on the feast?”

“You got Carn’s blessing for that?” Gundurr was quick to ask.

“I’d like to see him try and stop me. I did try to burn his armor.”

“Heard about that.” Gundurr said as he raised his cup. “Dangerous thing to do. Worse that you failed.”

“A matter for another time. You in?” Auriëlle asked.

Gundurr was silent for a second, though the tent continued its drunken jubilations. “Yeah.” He said, softly, before getting up and yelling: “Alright lads! We got a big day tomorrow! Go to your beds, now!” None disobeyed his command consciously. Though many needed a helping hand to rise up. Others were carried out the chieftain’s tent. A few remained, laying on the floor in a deep sleep. “Eh, they’ll be ready by the morning.” Gundurr said as he pushed his foot into one of his soldiers. The man didn’t wake up.

Auriëlle rose up and downed her cup. Then shook hands with Gundurr. “Good seeing you again.” With a smile and a grunt, they parted ways. Back outside the tent, the night sky felt a little darker again as she pulled up her hood and began her way back to her own camp.

“Aurielle?” a familiar-sounding voice spoke up nearby.

The redheaded sorceress looked up to see who it was. In the meantime Esiré and the others were quick to reach for their weapons, but didn’t pull them out.

The man who had spoken was an archer, with a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder. “Yes, that was your name,” he went on as he stepped closer. “How long has it been? I fought beside you at Evenstar, remember?”

“I remember Evenstar but not you.” Auriëlle said bluntly as she crossed her arms. “You need something?”

The archer frowned at that. “It’s me, Edgar! We stood right beside each other. I was the only one with a bow. Only one still left standing, anyway.”

Suddenly Auriëlle’s eyes grew big. She had forgotten his name but he was there when she erased someone for the first time. “Edgar you son of a bitch! You’re here too!?”

“Do you greet everyone by insulting their mother?” the hunter asked with a raised brow. “Of course I came. Last winter Carn and that Ingrid girl came back through our village and convinced Gundurr to join up with them. Didn’t seem to recognize me, though. Just this morning I waved to him and he didn’t even notice. That Lothar fellow did, though, and gave me a stern talking to about respect.” He shook his head. “S’ppose our Carn has more important things on his mind, hm?”

“You could say that.” Auriëlle’s face soured. “Who is this Lothar anyway? He almost seemed to… recognize me. Is he from Evenstar as well?”

Edgar shook his head. “Never seen him before. But they say that Cadien talks to him, just like Evenstar’s priest. Don’t know if that’s true, though. They also say a suit of armour talks, but I’ve never heard her. I’ve only been here a day.”

Auriëlle spat on the ground when Edgar said Cadien talked to Lothar. Honestly was the supposed god of perfection involved now? If he was, couldn’t he just do everyone a favor and raze Ketrefa with his own power? Instead he seemed willing to just offer up thousands, for what? “Oh yeah, the talking armor.” Auriëlle then noted dryly. “I tried to burn it just today.”

Edgar blinked in surprise. “You what?”

“Oh don’t worry. The thing is still in one piece. Anyway, it’s getting late Edgar and I’ve got places to be. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Faster! Faster!” the man, a noble of Ketrefa, yelled. While one of his guards was working the whip. Slaves were quickly loading up two carts with food and the few luxuries the farmstead had. Above them the half-moon shone surprisingly brightly. “Faster! I’ve been away from Ketrefa’s safe embrace for too long already!” Though even her sweet embrace now somehow felt weakened. A motherless, adopted bastard as Lord-Captain? It was an insult to all of noble blood. Armed and armored guards were patrolling close around the wooden manor, it stables and barn.

“They’re better armed than anticipated.” One of Evenstar’s younger men who scouted ahead whispered to Auriëlle. Who sat crouched in the bushes like a mountain cat ready to pounce. “There are more as well. Not more than us but still… more.” Auriëlle just nodded and waved the boy away. She didn’t particularly care how many guards there were. Death would come to them all. What she was waiting for were the carts. Once again she felt that need to destroy boil up, but this time it wasn’t going to stop her from taking a prize from the ruins as well.

“That should be the last, sir.” One of the guards said. They were too far from Auriëlle, but she could see the message’s effect. The cart riders lashed at the oxen, who slowly began to pull the heavy weight of the cart.

The arc of lightning seemed to have come out of nowhere. Everyone around the caravan saw its flash. Then a deafening clap of thunder followed. Dazing half the guards. From the bushes and trees came the raiding party of Auriëlle. Ululating their war cries with raised stone and copper axes. Behind them walked Auriëlle. Fire raging over her right arm though it didn’t seem to touch her and horns were sprouting from between her hair. Those guards far enough from the lightning strike were able to make something akin of a wall to receive the thirty something attackers, but they were far outmatched. Behind them several of their fellow Ketrefian warriors had fallen down on their knees. Some had thrown away their helmets. Others rose up again. To join the fray.

From the sack on his hip the noble pulled two tablets that were about the size of his palm. He cracked the first in his left hand. The air around his fingers turned blue, then white. He kept it close to his chest, as if afraid he would lose it. Until one of the attackers was close enough. He outstretched his hand and a gust of white wind flew from his fingers. Mid-air the white coalesced into ice, which hailed the attacker. Cutting her body with a hundred bits of ice. With his other hand he broke the second tablet. This time his fingers lit up with fire. He threw it and fire spat from his fingers upon several of his attackers. When the magic was cast, he dug back into his bag.

Right then a small orb whizzled overhead. It was just noticeable enough to draw attention as it arced over him and headed towards the barn. Yet before it hit the wooden structure, the orb seemingly collapsed into a large wave of fire. The flames fell upon the barn, lighting it up in an instant.

“Enough!” Yelled the noble from atop his cart. Surprisingly his voice carried enough force to stop both sides. Auriëlle looked up at him with an amused smile. “Your leader once said that if we lay down our arms and promise to never take them up against his cause, he would let us go. So hereby I tell you that we are laying down our arms.” Several of the guards looked back the noble. Looking surprised, elated or surprised.

Stone rumbled and rose from beneath Auriëlle, who now looked more like a demon. With curcled horns an a fall of shadows seemingly cascading from her shoulders. The stone pillar raised her up so she was level with the noble. For a moment she just looked him in the eyes. Letting the relative silence cut. The finally she said: “I don’t accept your surrender.” With an open palm she beckoned the winds and threw the noble off his cart. Then she directed that wind down, momentarily breaking part of the shield-to-shield skirmish. Some of Ketrefa’s warriors were thrown back or pushed into the ground. It was small, but enough for the raiding party to break them. Soldiers began to rout.

“Get back here you bastards!” The concussed noble yelled back at them. Behind him he heard the unmistakable sound of stone crumbling. Moments later Auriëlle crouched beside him. “Ketrefa will ave-“ Before he could finish his great speech of revenge, the sorceress knocked him out with a kick.

Some time passed. The noble didn’t know how much. Only that he woke up and it was still night. He was tied to a nearby tree. Close to him a large fire was raging. The heat felt almost pleasant on this cold, winter night. Yet when he woke up he didn’t see a sweet campfire close by. Instead he saw fires engulfing his estate. Savages and barbarians were running around like small shades in the fire. They sang and danced and shouted in the light of the fire. “My farm …” He yammered as tears welled up in his eyes. Something bellowed next to him. He turned, as much as his restraints allowed for, and noticed the carts. For a second he felt relieved that a handful of family heirlooms were spared. But then that red-headed sorceress appeared with a grin on her face.

“You liking the show?” Auriëlle asked as she came to sit down beside him.

“You monster!” He literally spat at her. Though that didn’t seem to faze her. “Ketrefa will destroy you! Tekret will ruin you! You had an oath. Carn said- Carn said if we didn’t-“

“Yeah yeah, you already told me about that. There’s only one, tiny problem. Carn swore it. I didn’t.” She said as she kept her eyes on the fire and the dancing. The noble could notice more activity now. Slaves were released from their restraints. Whether or not they wanted to run was now up to them. Meanwhile a guard was dragged passed them. Kicking and screaming. “They’re going to sacrifice him.” Auriëlle said casually while pointing backwards with her thumb over her shoulder. “To Neiya, I think. Then his corpse will be hanged from that tree.” Auriëlle was now pointing upwards. True to her words, the already slain guards were hanging upside down on the bare branches of the large tree. Swinging only slightly in the soft, winter wind. The noble looked with horror at it. Auriëlle noticed the terror in him. “Don’t you worry. You’re not dying yet.”

As the warriors of Evenstar and the other allied warband were greedily taking whatever riches they could get their hands on and Auriëlle was busy with the nobleman, Esiré had already picked up the greatest riches there was on the battlefield in her eyes. The sack of clay tablets the nobleman had. In the distance you could still see the grand bonfire that was the farmstead. But here she and her people were hidden in darkness. Now, so concentrated and together, the stars above had almost vanished.

“This place is blind to the stars.” She muttered as she looked up. The serenity made her mind drift. Drift towards Bul’Gadin, where the prophetess had spoken the god of ruin. To Carn’s camp only a few weeks ago, they learned of their strange gift. The god armor couldn’t see them. What did that mean? The tranquility was broken when three men were being dragged up the slight hill. They were begging and pleading for their lives. “Amerth. Gag them.” Esiré ordered without looking up from the tablet she was holding. It featured a circled ice flake. There was a sort of channel build through the middle of it. Making breaking the tablet easy.

Amerth, a big brute of a man, walked up to the people and gagged them. As commanded. He then helped to get the first down on his knees. Esiré let out an exhausted sigh as she walked up to the three prisoners of war who were squirming with their knees on the ground. She grabbed the first by his hair and pulled back, forcing him to look up at the night sky. “Cry your prayers.” She whispered near his ear, almost in a intimate manner. “The stars are blind.” She said, holding him in position for a moment, before releasing him again. Around her the chanting began, joined by a single rhythmic, slow thumping of a handheld drum someone had brought with them from Bul’Gadin.

“Shall we begin…priestess?” Amerth asked, though he sounded apprehensive to call Esiré a priestess.

She looked up, surprised to be called by such a title. But then she closed her eyes and took in the rhythmic beating of the drum, combined with the slow chanting. Like waves the sounds build and came crashing down, only to be build up again in a droning storm. It put her in a trance as she joined in with the song. Amerth joined in as well. The Cult kneeled down where they stood. Spread out, but facing the three captors. Six warriors, one of them Amerth, and Esiré were the only one who kept standing. With their back at the large fire off in the distance.

Esiré took a hidden knife from her backpack. It was made from a human’s femur, with the head still clearly visible and untouched, acting as the pommel. The blade was carved crudely but it was sharp. The handle was strapped with leather. With knife in hand she walked up to the first man, who whimpered and tried to fight against those who restrained him. “Nameless god of ruin.” Esiré said, her words cutting through the wave-like chanting. “May the blood of these sacrifices sate your need for destruction. May you keep the Prophetess safe, until the world burns.” With those words said she elegantly slit the first man’s throat.

The sacrifices were carried away to Auriëlle’s corpse tree. To be hung upside down. Esiré was cleaning her knife on her victims’ cloths. The chanting had stopped, though most were still in deep prayer. Not that it would matter. Their joined power, still half a mystery to them, was muddling the cries of help with the chants of the cultists. Creating a divinely entangled mess of a prayer.

When Auriëlle was done, she left the noble in his terror under the tree. Another guard was dragged before her. Kicking and screaming. The second she was close enough she grabbed him by his throat. Her own power began to flow into him. The guard felt something turn and coil in his stomach. Which instantly silenced him. On Auriëlle two small horns reappeared. Making those who carried the guard feel a little uncomfortable. Though they kept up their duty.

“Okay, you’re still now. Good.” The Sorceress said as she let her poisonous power do its work for a little while. “You’re a guard of Ketrefa?”

“Cadien spits on you.” The guard said. Right after one of the warriors holding him up punched him in the stomach. Somehow it felt worse than it should.

“Oh I’m sure he will.” Auriëlle said rather nonchalantly. Oraelia probably hated her, and whatever goddess had made Titania would hate her as well. If Cadien was willing to dislike her as well, what would it matter? “Now, I want you to deliver a message to whoever reigns in your big, walled city. Tell him he has until spring to surrender. If he doesn’t, I will turn his precious walls into a cage and burn the city…” she inched closer to his ear while keeping him controlled by his neck. Then she whispered: “Just like I burned Teperia.” She pulled back to face him. “Is that understood?”

“I-I-“ The guard stammered, before he was slapped in the face. Hard. His cheek was cut. “Yes! Yes! Please.”

“Alright boys. Let him go.” The sorceress said as she took a step back. The two warriors looked at each other for a moment and then let him fall to the ground.

The guard scrambled upright from the ground and began to run. Auriëlle hadn’t seen a man run so fast in her entire life. It was like more than his own live was at stake and that somehow now mattered. Maybe he would reach Ketrefa. Maybe he would die of exposure.

“Ketrefa isn’t just going to resign.” One of the warriors said as they watched the guardsman run.

“No, but this way they can’t say they weren’t warned.” Auriëlle said with a smile as she watched the man turn into a far off black dot. “Or the gods don’t want the message to reach Ketrefa. It’ll depend on what happens to him in the next few days.” Then she turned around and headed towards the sacrifices to Neiya. Ready to cut a few throats in the name of the goddess as well. Though deep inside she hoped the man would reach the walled city and give the warning.



In 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP} → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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