Member
Cyclone
Vec
Tim the Yeti
Fetzen
Crusader Lord
Enzayne
Timemaster
King of Rats
7 MP/30 FP Starting
Orvus was singular in his thoughts, the pull towards his sphere far to intense for any other minor inconvenience to distract him. But space was fraught with peril, and Orvus had the uncanny ability to find himself at the threshold of peril. By chance, or curiosity, Orvus turned his head around to gaze upon his passenger, Seihdhara. She was fast asleep, the red hair still attaching her to him, much like a towing service. To this, he was not angry or even slightly annoyed, for why care about such a small thing. It was the least he could do, after she had let him feel. However, something else caught his attention in the depths behind them.
A crystal, fast approaching, and as large as his asteroid. It was coming right for them, so the God stopped in his path and turned around fully. He did not really want to be hit by it, for it would surely carry him towards Galbar, and that was one place he did not want to go yet. His sister proved to be a problem however. Orvus was tempted to leave her there, but a part of him did not want to be so cruel to the one who had showed him pain. As such, he grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her closer to himself. His touch would not wake her, for her slumber was deserved.
He cocked his head, his eyes devoid of any expression as he spoke to her.
Fare… Thee… Well. Sister… he whispered the goodbye, before letting go of Seihdhara, to where they faced each other. He gave a tug on her fiery string, and it let go of him. Then Orvus, using his strength, shoved her away from him. The momentum would carry both him and Seihdhara out of the way of the crystal, and as he watched her grow distant, the crystal came roaring by, carrying Narzhak. The crystal’s momentum further flung them apart, and when it was finally over, Orvus searched for her, but found nothing. He turned away, and began his final approach to his sphere.
He knew not how long it had been, but suddenly a great light shown out in the darkness, bathing the Galbar in warmth and illuminating the darkness of space. He looked towards the source of such a power, and saw Heliopolis in the distance. He knew his brother’s name immediately, and it was Aelius, for he had created the sun. His eyes expressed disapproval, for there had been nothing wrong with the dark. It had always felt more like a home to him then this… light. But in the end, it mattered not to Orvus how bright it would be. What he would create, there would be no place for warmth, or for the prying eyes of light.
Suddenly, a far brighter flash of light brokered his attention towards Galbar, and it took him a moment to fully realize what he was witnessing. It was his asteroid, and it had finally completed it’s labor. So Orvus paused in his pursuit, and watched the destruction he and his sister had born. He took note of the meteors damage, how it blotted the sky with dust, how it had broken the clouds away from the epicenter. A pang of pride shot throughout him, before dispersing. He knew right away he would have to visit the place of the impact, but not now. One day.
Satisfied once more, he continued on his journey.
As he traveled, Orvus was blissfully unaware of the happenings upon Galbar, or the feud between his celestial siblings and Melantha’s strike upon Heliopolis. He knew not the life within his Eye of Desolation, or the metal he had willed into existence. Nor would he have cared for such developments. None of truly mattered, for he had at last found his sphere in the emptiness of space.
But Orvus was a beacon for calamity, and not long after arriving, did he bear witness to the Lustrous Garden exploding. Such an explosion riveted Orvus to the spot he floated in. He cocked his head and watched as the debris field grew and grew, racing forever outwards. It had been Asceal’s sphere, but Orvus did not know why it had exploded. He felt something amiss, some soft connection to the tragedy, but he did not understand how, or why.
Instead, he pushed it from his mind as his curiosity for the debris took focus. A small sliver raced past him, but at the last second Orvus caught it. He held the small sliver in his hands, the glow faint, like a perpetually dying heart. For some odd reason, he felt sad. It was such a small sliver, lost to the void of space. Forever alone. Perhaps it was the fact Asceal had imprinted upon him her light, or some other odd, unknowable feeling.
It would be alone if left to drift, he knew, as a stark reminder of what could have been. Yet that didn’t mean it couldn’t have purpose. With the sliver in hand, he looked at Galbar, far closer now then he had ever been. The sliver of crystal was wasted here in his sphere, it truly did not belong, but Galbar beckoned.
Orvus then threw the crystal at the planet, where it would end up, he did not know. Nor did he care, but something told him it would find purpose there. And as he watched it go, with it went his sadness. A cold clarity took over, one of purpose beyond anything he had ever felt.
He turned back to his desolate sphere, it was time to create the moon.
He had to show them, his siblings, that he could create. His purpose would not be defined but what he was, but by what he was capable of doing. Orvus would show them how much better he truly was, of how insignificant their own creations would be compared to his own. This he knew, without a doubt, to be true. It had to be. Why else would he exist? The questions that haunted him since the moment of his arrival would be answered. His deliverance would be finally secured. All he had to do, was create the greatest of all spheres. A task, he was prepared for.
Slowly Orvus struck out his hand at the emptiness before him. He did not hesitate in the slightest, so sure he was of his purpose, and thus began to will into existence Veradax. His sphere. His dominion of control. A place where he could know peace once more. It was a perfect name.
Veradax came with his beckoning, slowly but surely from the nothingness of space. Molecule by molecule, pebble to stone, packing together to form density and weight. Crushing everything together to form a fledgling core under the immense pressure.
Orvus could feel the labor beginning to take its toll upon his strength but he did not falter in his work. Veradax would be completed, it would grow to be mighty. With renewed vigor, Orvus sent forth more of his power, and the young moon began to grow in size. It would be larger than anything thus forth in creation besides Galbar itself. Larger than even the Lustrous Garden had been, greater than even Heliopolis. Or so he would believe.
Yet, Orvus began to grow weary still, his arm growing heavy, but still he pushed on with fanatical obsession. The moon began to take upon an assortment of greys in color, from light to dark and still yet black. But Orvus realized the black that covered parts of his sphere were clouds, etched with scarlet lightning. This lightning pulsed, like a heartbeat. It was almost as if Veradax was alive. Yes, Orvus realized, alive. A living moon, his… child.
The god began to feel his life force wane, and this deeply troubled him Orvus. He was torn by a choice. Veradax was so close to completion, he could sense it. Yet he also knew such completion would be his death. So Orvus hesitated, and in that brief moment his hand fell, the connection broke. His eyes went wide with worry, but as he gazed upon Veradax, nothing happened. Any who looked up in that moment would have seen the full glory and splendor of the new moon. So he relaxed with ease, he had done it. He felt...He felt… relieved, almost jo-
A giant crack ripped through the Eastern Hemisphere of Veradax, splintering into thousands of smaller, more grotesque fractures. His relief washed away in an instant, and Orvus watched with horror as more and more rifts appeared upon the surface. He realized then, that his child was ripping itself apart. Without thinking, he raced towards the moon, wanting nothing more then to fix what was happening. To make it whole again.
As he drew closer, the crust began to break, revealing the dim glow of the core. Like fiery veins but on a magnitude far greater than anything seen before in the fledgling universe. Then the moon began to scream a sickening sound of pain and anguish, like boulders grinding on another without end, as more and more of the half split.
Orvus was so close, so very close but in the end, it would never have been enough. The moon went silent, then the half that was broken, shattered into millions of pieces. There was a bright light, not as intense as the Lustrous Garden’s explosion, but at the same time, such a cataclysm was far closer to Galbar. Orvus was caught in the blast as his child died before him. An inescapable torrent of flame bathed him in the fire of death for several moments, only for the god to collide with the debris field as it rocketed outwards, going in every direction. All celestial spheres would have a taste of the moon and its properties, chief among these spheres was Galbar.
The skies would rain for weeks with moon fall, most would burn up in the atmosphere, but the larger chunks would make landfall and for time immemorial, the cycle would continue. For the Sphere of Desolation had been created at last, and would exist until it was no longer needed.
The God of Desolation gave up as the fire died. Orvus shut his eyes as he let himself be swallowed up by his greatest failure. He was hit, crushed, and smacked aside more times then he could fathom. But at long last, one rock claimed him for its own and they took a journey together. Its destination was Galbar, along with a thousand Lunar Meteors, streaming down like fiery tears. His bit of the moon had him prisoner, he was pinned against the flat side as it plummeted towards Galbar. Just like him however, the piece of moon was unstable, and so broke apart in the atmosphere. Unable to do anything about his current predicament, Orvus fell further, letting the freefall carry him where it pleased. For he felt nothing and yet everything all at once, and he was haunted by the memory so fresh in his mind, of the moon’s explosion. He was crippled by inaction, and he hated himself because of it.
He plunged through the Blue, Azura’s sphere, bringing destruction and sorrow in his wake. His body obliterated a floating island as if it were nothing, sending rocks scattering about. Also with him was fire, and he unintentionally murdered countless creatures of the unique ecosystem that called the Blue home. They vaporized instantly, the only mercy they had was not having to feel the pain. Like a candle being blown out, all that remained of them was smoke in the wind. And then the haze of Galbar became clearer and Orvus broke through his sister’s sphere with a sound like thunder.
Orvus strained to open his eyes at the sound, but he was engulfed with fire and he was tired. So very tired. As he spun about, he could see what waited for him below- a deeper blue. The ocean. That wasn’t so bad, he thought weakly, but it would still hurt.
His impact was deafening, and forced the very water away from him, before it consumed his flaming body with a great hiss. The ocean then settled itself, and like before, it was as if nothing had ever happened. No great tsunamis would wrack the globe this time around, just the eb and flow of water as the sky rained fire.
As the calamity continued up above, Orvus sank like a lifeless statue. Watching the light of the day fade into inky blackness. The Desolate One could only think of his failure, and his thoughts devoured his will for action.
So he sank and when he finally hit the cold sea floor, Orvus shut his eyes. His lights faded one by one, and when he was indiscernible from the black water, sleep at last overtook him.
And his dreams would become nightmares.
