Soaring across the vast sky flying farther and farther south, the little flame of life within the revenant stirred and spoke softly. “Hmm… I was wondering… how did you receive your name, Zima? Was it gifted to you, or did you choose it? What does it mean? Then I wonder, are you… fond of your name? Zima?” The faint voice of Fear asked, those words now echoing within the confines of her corrupted body with nowhere else to escape to, repeating endlessly, again and again. Fear’s questions were also accompanied by the sudden manifestation of shifting symbols across her scarred skin, as the possessed champion called upon the power of the Gnosis with an unknown purpose upon awakening. Despite the damage inflicted upon her body, mind, and soul - Fear’s flame flickered and danced with defiance.
“I was wondering when you would awake.” Zima’s voice was like a dagger, cutting at the flame that shielded her bit by bit. “What are you doing, Fear? Don’t try anything or you will die. And I mean that quite literally. I am the only thing keeping you alive. Also," She paused, "You should thank me instead of asking stupid questions.” There was a note of bitterness in her voice before the dagger relented it’s icy touch from her flame.
“Hmm… you answered the question with a question, hiding away from really answering it… Avoiding it. I’m not afraid of dying anymore, and I’ve already told you now. You can kill me if you wish… Now I wonder why you’d cage yourself inside my broken body if you’re free like those ghosts said? Is this freedom?” Fear continued to inquire and muse aloud, retaining her impassive tone unchanging even after she was a victim of being verbally lashed with effort. The stigma of sorcery still spread itself across her skin, a myriad of swirling and slithering stains consisting of esoteric shapes and patterns, yet she kept her spell silently still.
"Ah, not afraid of dying anymore are you?" Zima chided, "Is that because you find death easier than having to deal with the reality you have chosen? The one where you betrayed your family to free me, remember?" Her voice grew fiercer, "Please, if you knew what awaited you in the Underworld you would fight for life instead of choosing a coward's way out." Her sorcery began to darken as Zima leached into it.
“I will… face death at some point… indeed, I betrayed those I loved, to free you. I’m going to atone for my sins someday, but I want to see you safe and sound before I go. I’m not going to leave you alone to suffer. You’re my sister, after all.” Uttering those soft spoken words, all of the swirling runes and shimmering spirals of the sustained spell receded into Fear’s broken body, delving into the depths where her fire burned brightly and coalescing into a familiar shield of light. Her quiet voice still passed through the protective aura and resonated throughout her being, and she focused what remained of her willpower into preserving the spell.
“For now, I shall call you Sorrow…” She murmured, seeking another name for the being that she could not comprehend. If she was Fear, then she would travel with the one known as Sorrow, she mournfully thought. She called upon more of her strength, tapping into her memories of Courage and her resilient audacity - embracing that manner of bravery and foolishness.
"And you shall be Annoyance." Sorrow snapped back. "Let us be very clear about something; I am not your sister. I never was and I never will be. I'm not even human or whatever you are." She huffed, probing at the shield of light. "You seem to be under the impression that you are going to walk away from all this and be able to atone, Annoyance. Shall I let you in on a little secret? I am going to break your shield, pierce your heart and drown your flame until you and I are exactly the same. You removed my gifts and for that I shall give you one you may never relinquish." Sorrow assaulted her shield but it held, for now.
“Annoyance… that is my name? Thank you! I shall cherish it! I realize I may have made a mistake… if you’re not my sister, then perhaps you’re my brother? Hmm… it was our Father that removed your gifts, you know. And… I’m not going to walk away, or fly away, or just abandon you. We’re walking this path together - you possessing my body, piercing my heart, and drowning my flame… and I, always choosing to remain with you.” The newly named Annoyance announced with glee while she giggled to herself. Fear was not brave, but perhaps Annoyance could be? Fear would hide and seek shelter in the vain hope that all will be well, but with this change in name, she could be armored against the hurting aches that never ended.
Sorrow's anger welled like a tidal wave of endless dark, threatening to wash over everything. Then it abruptly halted and simmered out. When Sorrow spoke next there was little emotion in her voice, "Very well." Then her body flew downwards in silence before they landed. Sorrow began to walk.
“When you have found better company, I’ll lower the shield, and you can rid yourself of me. Or, you can wait, and I will flicker out anyway. I would rather you had someone beside you though. True suffering is being alone, I think.” Her cheerful voice became tinted with forlorn thoughts and memories, and Annoyance seemed to consider her next words carefully, speaking slowly. Fear was afraid and wanted to lash out, while Annoyance wanted to irritate Sorrow longer with vengeful teasing.
“I am glad we’re together. Black and white. Negative and positive. Like night and day, but different… somehow.” She was fumbling with conveying what she wanted to say, and there was a strange audible noise as her flame bit its own fiery tongue and became silent. Neither Annoyance or Fear were capable of commanding their speech when the other sought to undermine the first.
Suddenly Annoyance found herself looking through an eye. In front of them and the open plain was a strange sort of people gathered around a campfire. With horns on their heads and great steads by their sides. They hadn't noticed them yet, for Sorrow stuck to the shadows at the edge of any mortal vision. She then came to a halt. Her voice sounded inside again, bitter, "How much death will you be able to handle, I wonder?" She asked. "Perhaps they don't have to die, perhaps no one has to die while I occupy you. Just… Give into me. Lower the shield and let us be done with this charade."
Annoyance hummed gently as she answered, knowing that denying Sorrow would bring some pleasure. Fear valiantly attempted and failed to quell this division in her mind between despair and jubilation. “I understand the meaning of my name now, Brother, oh I understand, hehe. Hmm… I will not surrender to you. I’m sorry. I really am. There’s also no need to harm those people either, unless you’re seeking to satiate some other desire, Sorrow?”
"You may act as smug and cheerful as you wish, Annoyance. Just know that for every drop of blood that is spilled from here on out- the blame shall be yours alone. You wanted to be brave once, and courageous, yet now when you can fully save the lives of these people, what do you do? Hide away, Annoyance. At least you're honest with what you are." Sorrow's words bit into the shield but were repulsed. She then began to walk forwards into the creeping light.
“You’re mistaking me for my sisters. I’ve never been able to save anyone aside from myself after all. I can’t even accept the blame for hurting these people I don’t know, because I’ve no hands, no voice, and soon no spirit. Also… those people seem to lack blood, so it will be difficult to spill any, Brother.” Annoyance muttered with a tired sigh before she fell silent once more, merely observing whatever was about to unfold. Fear struggled against herself, despising the fact that there truly seemed to be nothing she could do. Only the lies she told herself and others remained.
"You did save someone. Me. But so be it. Blood or not, you shall hear their screams as I use your body to kill them." Sorrow spoke with malice, before her hand of ice manifested a blade of ice. "May your Maker forgive you." The whisper came from every direction and then Annoyance could see Sorrow leap forth with unnatural clamor to pierce one from behind.
He gave a sucking sound and then fell over dead as the rest exploded with screams and fury. Perhaps if they had tried they'd have been able to understand their language but Sorrow blocked everything out but the pain and fear and drove it into Annoyance's shield as she cut more down. They fought back with sticks and stones and spears but it was pointless. Sorrow, even in her body, was too strong.
She cut down a fleeing woman and as her body dropped a small child fell as well. She cried with her large eyes, pawing at her mother to wake. Sorrow raised her blade high. "Don't do this!" Fear cried out, though she could not shed any tears or tremble with grief. She was trapped and encircled by the insidious and the vicious.
But there was nothing the anxious champion could do as a sealed away spectator, aside from desperately calling outwards and praying she was heard while great despair continually gnawed upon her fracturing mind, akin to a nightmarish beast that howled and clawed its way through shattered glass. Fear had endured terrible pain and torture before, but the sight of such wretched carnage again awoke the lurching ache in her small spirit once more. It seemed as though she would be struck against the crucible of cruelty until she was completely broken.
Now she was confronted with so many conflicting paths; she wished to help others, and yet those she saved birthed more suffering. She sought to become strong and stand up for herself like a beacon of light in the darkness, and yet she repeatedly wished her sisters were here to protect her from the frightening shadows she saw all around. She was told by the one who created her that she would teach humanity, her beloved kin, to be afraid of evil by becoming their fear, and yet she fought to be a hero, to be an inspiration. These internal contradictions and many more within Fear created a chaos that was overwhelming what little willpower she possessed, and Annoyance allowed herself to laugh bitterly at her other self who struggled to speak through her own muted weeping and lamentations.
"Please stop." Fear sobbed, hopelessly pleading with the one that imprisoned her.
"Ahhh, so you do care." The mocking whisper came as carnage lay about. Those who were left alive fled that camp with their lives, those dead did not move. There was no blood but it was still a sickly sight. Both eyes stared at the small child before them, still crying over her mother as Sorrow held her blade high, poised to let it fall at any moment. "Tell me Fear, for I know it's you, what is the value of a life? Is this child's soul lesser than your own? Would you condemn her to die, she who has yet to live, to save yourself? I can stop of course, she can live but, what are you willing to give me if not what I already want?"
Fear barely answered, her voice repeatedly assailed by the cacophony of combative thoughts and feelings seeking to twist and warp her words. “I would… give you love. I’d protect you. Please, you can save all of us.”
Without a moment of hesitation, the blade fell and the child grew silent. Sorrow then dropped the blade to the ground, where it turned to water. “Look what you made us do.” She whispered to Fear. All around them the wind blew and Fear bore witness to the carnage one last time, before Sorrow retook her given eye.
“Let this be a reminder; I am in control. Further defy me and we shall bring more pain and suffering to any we come across. Your love is meaningless. Your protection is meaningless. You’ve already fallen Fear. how long will it take you to realize that?” Zima’s emotionless voice echoed all around her and before long they were moving again.
“I refuse to fall. When will you realize that?” Fear faintly replied while what remained of her spirit swam through light and shadows within her possessed body. She could hear Annoyance muttering to herself, “Idiotic… such foolishness…” and she attempted to suppress the sound, but there was no success, and she suffered both the slow sundering of her mind, and the torture of her revenant jailor.
Zima gave a hollow laugh and to the sky they took off into the unknown.
-While Zima is flying, Fear awakens and begins speaking, but she is mentally fraying and acting strange.
-Fear casts a spell that protects her inner flame from contamination, allowing her to preserve herself for a little while, much to Zima’s annoyance.
-Zima is given an additional name: Sorrow. Fear is given an additional name: Annoyance. The two converse until they come upon a small settlement of Eidolons. Zima asks Fear to relinquish her inner flame completely, or the Eidolons will die but she refuses and as Annoyance, doesn’t seem to care about Zima’s threats.
-Zima begins to slaughter the people in retaliation, while Fear mourns and weeps for the fallen, having failed in her bluffing. Zima offers one more chance and will spare a child if Fear succumbs and does what she wants.
-Fear fails to negotiate with Zima, and the child is slain. Afterwards, the two continue their flight south.
Fear gains 4 Spirit. (+1 minimum, +1 medium, +1 main character, +1 collab)
Fear spends 15 Spirit to consecrate a section within her body where her inner fire burns, creating a shield of light that protects it from spiritual harm.
Zima fell upon her hands and knees into the pond's sandy beach. It sent ripples across its glassy surface, breaking the tension. It was an action that would have killed Fear's own body, had she been in control of it. Her body was, by all accounts, complex yet simple. No mere mortal would have survived having their head caved in and blinded by their own stupidity. But Fear had, because she wasn't just some mere mortal. She was born of clay and stone, her inner fire and water kept her alive and any more spillage would have sent her water out. It would have been a laughable way to die.
As the northern sky lay ablaze with lingering light that turned night to day, Zima shook her head.
Fear was too valuable, at least for now. A bargaining chip perhaps? But more or less a useful, gullible, tool. She already had plans for her, whether Fear was willing or not. But first things first, she would do her small act of kindness for what Fear did to free her and that would be finding her a new body. Or fixing this one. But as Zima looked into stilling water, her reflection made one thing abundantly clear- Fear was not the smartest of her sister’s.
Zima had done what she could, filled the cracks and splinters with her own presence. Crimson smoke poured out those wounds. But more nefarious was how she had stopped the trauma to her head from spreading. It was not Fear’s own eyes that looked back up at them, for she had quite literally smashed them to pieces, but Zima’s. She had filled the gap in Fear’s head with her own, molding it to fit in a vague shape that could have passed for Fear, if it was more tangible and solid. She had even given her some hair back, now streaked with black. It was the only practical decision she had to make, otherwise her vessel would have died.
She pawed at her chest, stone swirling with crimson. Zima grimaced. There was one spot that hadn't been cracked when Fear hit the wall, much to her annoyance. It was where Fear holed herself up from Zima's corrupting influence. Her heart, with a little bit of flame to keep it going. Her presence was weak everywhere else, almost nonexistent but it was there and Zima could not allow it to spread. She needed to break her heart once and for all.
That was the true goal. Bend Fear to her own will and turn her against her sisters.
For now, she would etch away at it. They had all the time in the world after all, for without Zima, Fear would be dead in her exile. All Zima needed to do was search for solutions in this strange new world she found herself in. She had flown far enough away that Keltra was a distant memory or it would be if they didn't come and try to find them with that boat. Her anger boiled just thinking of all those gifts her father gave them. What had she ever gotten?
Abandonment.
Zima punched the water, sending droplets flying. These girls really were coddled. Innocent, doe eyed fawns. Well, even the innocent could fall and they were well on their way. She could break them all by breaking one. That would show them for overstepping their bounds.
She still didn't understand why Fear had gone through all the trouble to break her out. And who even were those others? They had a strangely familiar presence yet something told her there was no way Fear was working with them. Was it all a coincidence?
Zima let out a frustrated sigh. She stood up and gathered her surroundings. This red foliage was beginning to get on her nerves. There was little iteration to it and she had not the strength yet to do anything about it. She unfurled her wings and began to flap them. It was time to keep heading away.
“Still here?” a crackling whistle of a voice abruptly sounded from the treeline behind her. With the corner of an eye, she saw smoke drifting out from among crimson trunks. “The whole land will no doubt be ablaze in no time now. You should keep going until you no longer see red.” The voice hesitated before continuing - or was it another, distinct but identical, following on its heels? “How precious were you to them to stir them so?”
Zima used her wings to turn with a few flaps. She held her broken head high, eyes fixed upon the trees and smoke. She tilted her head ever so slightly, lips turning thin. “Precious-” She began to speak, pausing as the sound of Fear’s voice rang out. “Enough.” she finished. Where once Fear’s voice had been weak and diminutive, now it sounded stronger, more defined but cold and withdrawn. Zima hated it all the same but it would do for now. “And who might you be, hiding in the shadows?” she asked.
“The shadows,” the voice flatly repeated, as though the words were in themselves answer enough. Three red eyes met her look from within the caliginous swirl. “We are what remains when all is stripped from life, down to itself. As are you. As is she, now.” The cloud drifted closer now, and it was three shades, even as those she had seen at Keltra. One of them raised a coiling strand of vapour towards her. “We are Eschatli. Welcome among the rejected, sister.”
Zima stood firm, holding out a hand and allowing the Eschatli's smoke to coil around her pointer finger. So they weren't all alone after all. Wasn't that great, Fear? She drove the thought into her host's sleeping conscious, followed by an image of the Shades before her. "So alike, yet different all the same. Curious..." Zima said to herself. "It was you who came to free me, along with this foolish thing." With her other hand she waved over her vessel. "Why? Do you feel akin to me? We rejected few."
“More than that,” the wraith who had spoken undulated, “One thing was left to you that was denied us.”
“Freedom,” another added, “You don't have to carry the weight of an Eye ever upon you. The favoured playthings of the gods are always bare for you to mar, at your whim and not that of brooding fate.”
“You can do so much more than us,” the third finished, “It were a shame to let you, too, languish in your master’s chains.”
"Ahh," Zima clasped her hands together, "You are enslaved. Such a pity indeed that we few are used so. But you have my thanks, or what's left of it, for helping free me. In fact, I would even go so far to say that I am in your debt. Or we, in this case. If I could break your chains, I would, but some bonds run deep." She next sighed. "Where are my manners? After all you have told me your name… names?" She shrugged it off and gave a slight bow, "I am Zima, this vessel is known as Fear. Soon to change."
“It is a fine enough name, for all her clay could be worth,” one cloud arched overhead like a stretching, drooping slug and glanced down at what remained of the champion’s head, “Pity her, Zima, for she has known our thraldom without our unity, and like us she has but passed from one hand to another.”
“But as long as you have enough, so will she,” another rolled nonchalantly, “Where shall you now, extinguished flame?”
"Do not worry, I feel nothing but pity for this one. She wishes to change me but I think by the end, it will be quite the opposite." Zima mused. "As for now, I shall head as far away from Keltra as I can. I need to fix this body and secure her… Freedom. Many will come to look for me, I shall have to find a good place to hide for a time, I think. What will become of you three?"
“So long as we are Three of Seven, we'll never want for something to waste our time,” swayed the last of them, “Doom knows no rest, so neither must we. You, however…"
She coiled about the revenant, and with the others she spun into a circling ring.
"You should not waste what you have now. What can any do to you that you haven't suffered already? Roam free, defile, despoil. Our spark will be a little warmer just for it."
Zima took them all in, wings folding behind her back. She placed one hand to Fear’s heart. "I will gladly do this for you, sisters. Wherever we go, suffering follows."
"Such is the way of things." The circle swayed. Were the Three still Three? Was there only One left with her? She could not see. "Go now, the world awaits you with its joys."
"To the south, there is an unspoilt garden of peoples, with none but measly leeches picking at it," another voice - or was it the same one? - continued, "To the east, many a divine finger is sunk in one small valley, ripe and vulnerable in its charges. To the north, the Sun's own eye dotes on the futile vehemence of the sand-dwellers. Which will you spite first?"
Zima thought a moment. She wanted to stray clear of any divine influence for the time being. South was the only option.
"I shall take us South and see what might transpire. It has been oh so lovely meeting you. Do take care and break the bonds that hold you." Zima said to them, unfurling her wings.
"Not too loud, now," the Eschatli chuckled in a nimbic crackle as they stretched and broadened their ring, giving way for her to take flight, "Or someone might think you speak in earnest. Travel well, sister, and don't forget what you are in the world."
"Of course." Zima murmured and then she was gone, leaving the Eschatli to return to the shadows. Three eyes followed her umbral trail as it blurred into the sky.
"How long before the underworld changes its mind about her?" asked one.
"If she was lucky, it would forget her," answered another, "But luck is down there now. If she's to defeat the end, she must do it herself."
Zima, having hijacked Fear’s body, drifts southward of the newly glowing Keltra and makes a pit stop along the way. As she ponders the events of her escape, three of the Eschatli catch up with her, and a brief though cordial conversation on their respective places in the world and the pleasures of ruining things ensues. The sisters point Zima to a few zones of interest in the Galbar, ripe for mischief, and she decides to check out the Eidolon Plains first. As she leaves, they make some cryptic and ominous observations about her fate.
The Eschatli begin with 4 prestige and gain 1, bringing them to 5.
The owl champion’s mind was left to his own devices as he flew. He dwelled upon what he had learned. His sibling was dead, fallen at the hands of the Green Murder. He had never met his sister, yet he felt a profound sense of loss. Now he was alone, flying to the obelisk of the Goddess of Joy. Perhaps it would bring him some sort of comfort. Perhaps.
So Viho, as he always did, flew.
It only took him around a day to find the obelisk. How could one miss the black stone standing in the field of endless white?
He approached and landed down before it. There was no sign of anything. No animals, no mortals, not even chirping birds. Just the wind. With a curious he looked upon the intricate details of the black stone and became enamored with its beauty. But Viho had a task to do and he would do it. Cautiously he approached the looming, towering obelisk as close as he felt necessary. Just so he could reach out and touch it. Anticipation jolted down his spine as his feathers brushed the obelisk.
He waited for something to happen. But after brushing the cold stone with gas feathers some more, he was disappointed. Perhaps his feet would work better? So the owl hopped forward and placed his talons upon it but likewise, nothing happened. It felt much the same.
How was he supposed to find Zenia if he couldn't use the obelisk? Frustration set in as Viho tried a variety of methods to unlock the obelisk but each resulted in failure. The last attempt he made was bashing his head into it. Not so hard to cause any sort of damage but enough to give him a headache. After that the Owl Champion sunk low, wings sprawled out as he shut his eyes tight.
He was tired and upset and out of ideas. Slowly the chorus of wind and the dipping of the sun eased his body and mind into a needed sleep. It had been so long…
He dreamed a strange dream. The place around him was not the Giantlands or anything he had ever seen yet. Marbled stone, etched with finery and details he could hardly decipher stood all around him. He walked through the hallways, it was so bright but he was unbothered by it. Next thing he knew he was staring at a being so profound and grand, with that tear across its chest, that he felt… Excited? There was no fear here, how he missed his friend, but just Joy. He looked down at his own two hands, sun kissed and dainty. He felt his long golden hair and radiance fit for a stellar queen. He bounced over to a mirror and laughed when he saw beauty looking back at him.
Then Viho woke with a fright. He ruffled his feathers and stood up and gazed upon the obelisk under a shattered moon. So that was the trick. Sleep? But what if… With determination in his eyes, he pressed his head against the Obelisk one last time and willed it to obey.
Blinking lights struck out at him as his vision became muddied and brighter. Soon enough he was no longer in the Giantlands again. He caught bits and pieces, white hair, faces of mortals with wide eyes, crowded around and whispering. Anticipation built in the air. He somehow knew he was the woman from before, no, this was Zenia wasn't it? He stripped herself and he felt embarrassed but soon enough she was up in the air, watching her mortals faces slowly disappear as she flew higher and higher. High enough that Viho could make out the land and ocean and etched it to memory. The vision faded as the earth below became a giant orb. He blinked and it faded.
The dawn was rising now and Viho puffed out his chest. He had done it despite the odds. Maybe a bit of sleep now and then wouldn't be so bad after all? He would consider it but for now, he had a ways to go.
Viho travels to the Obelisk that Zenia once made in the giantlands. He tries to unravel its secrets for about a day with no luck and gives up. He falls asleep and has a strange dream. When he wakes up he tries again but this time uses his spirit to achieve what he was after. He knows where Zenia last was and now sees out for Zene Land.
Viho starting = 15 Spirit
-2 Spirit to look through the eyes of Zenia at her Obelisk in the North.
Five black trails wove through the haze of an oceanic cloud-bank, crossing and winding like threads trying to sew together the ephemeral white mountain before it was inevitably pulled apart by the winds. Below, a dark blue plain ran around and ahead of its shadow, an immense silky drape creasing under the pulls and tugs of countless unseen hands. It was a cloudy day over the waves, and the sapphire ever so often became lead, but the five leapt and breached above the impalpable snowy cap, coiling and dancing in the undiluted sunlight like earthen sprites atop a mountain.
“Even she will have rested there, who was never of ours,” one of the sisters suddenly mused as she cavorted in a spiral through fraying fringes.
“And she has also had her rest in death, which she was never destined to,” another answered, “So what of it?”
A third laughed lightly. “Everything ends up there, but she most of all had it written in her fate. Isn’t that true, sister?”
The three-eyed spectre who flew ahead of the rest did not reply, but bobbed up and down before diving into the white.
“To jump into the stream as she did is the gesture of someone who is fated,” the third concluded.
“And still, death has spat her out,” the fourth Eschatli pointed out as she twirled above the others.
“That too has to be fate. What else?” answered the third without missing a beat.
“Then you mean that what we do now will be fate also, and not a strike against it, as we’d rather have it?”
“Think about that later,” the second quieted them, “Or, better, not at all. If we start thinking like him, then we’ll have already lost.”
As if to sweep away that grim thread, the Outsider sang gently from the clouds:
“Her home is like some crystal urn Upon whose cold and carven side Glyphs of cerulean sparkles glide In scrolls that wander and return;
How fair and strange the art thereof! But, irony supreme, within, The poisonous black dust of sin And ashes from dark pyres of love.”
The celestial island ended, baring the ocean to an iridescent cascade of sun-rays, and a dark strip rose out of the water at the horizon. The Eschatli circled one last time through the milky fog, hung still high under the First Light for a moment, and dived down to where the earth met the sky.
Gentle music continued to fill the Keep of Keltra, as its inhabitants preoccupied themselves with mostly mundane affairs. Beside the great Eternal Fire, Kindness and Curiosity tended to Rowan as the quiet trio bathed in the warm radiance of the blazing monument; letting joy and comfort seep into them, and slowly lull them into a serene trance, akin to the peaceful slumber of their dormant kin all around. Pride held onto her scepter, and continued her exploration of the land with the Incantation of Seeing, focusing her attention upon the Garden of Hevel and the activities there. Courage sought out the Recusant, seeking to engage in conversation with the only other awakened beings in Keltra. Lastly, Fear paced back and forth, watching the rest of her sisters and anxiously waiting for the opportune time to arise.
Xan was standing watch by Zima’s prison, with Core-Soth right next to him muttering something about the impracticality of the room having entryways when one of the champions had the ability to simply create and uncreate walls. Core-Amul was in earshot, shaking his head as he stood guard over the sleeping humans alongside his patrolling comrade, Core-Repha. Core-Garren and Core-Orphi were out in the workshop, while Core-Naulty, Verdin, and Thiddock all had left that morning with Core-Lorelei to gather reinforcements at the Gardens — which left Cosi-Dern as the final soldier.
The Cosi was standing by Courage, his face hidden behind his mask as he listened to her words.
“So, you’ve decided to bring reinforcements here, but what about our brothers and sisters elsewhere? Our sleeping kin need protecting, ya, but there’s also those that need help against the dangers of the outside world. Our Maker hasn’t mentioned much about her own plans, but I was wondering what ideas you may have? Whether Apostate has said anything, or something like that? I’m mostly checking in to just see where my sisters and I can be of help.” Courage simply smiled as she asked her questions, fascinated by the presence of the altered humans and their objectives.
“The Recusant Army currently operates in reach of the Garden of Hevel, but we have plans to expand. So in short, our current operations stretch across center Termina. The biggest challenge right now is determining an effective strategy to move resources and troops long distances reliably and consistently. Keltra is our furthest garrison and it’s severely lacking at the moment, being cut off from general supply.” Dern folded his arms behind his back. “It doesn’t help that this garrison is under a shared command.”
Courage chuckled upon hearing his answer. “We’ve shared the same challenge; trying to move so many of our kin as well. When Asshole finally learns his lesson, maybe we can ask him to make more colossi that we can operate and use for transportation?”
Dern blinked at Courage. “Astus is the leader of the enemy, he’s not going to make tools for us. If anything, that should go to show you why this is so important. The enemy forces already have reliable access to transportation. We are lagging behind dangerously in that regard.”
“I meant after we teach him some manners, ya. After the gods settle their dispute or whatever it is they are doing, we’re going to have to work together, right? So we can ask him then. There’s also another way to get here, but we need help from another god. I think he’s sleeping though, so… we’re stuck waiting.” With a sigh, Courage gave a shrug and glanced towards where the rest of her sisters gathered.
“You talk about it so lightly.” Cosi-Dern crossed his arms. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Courage nodded. “I’ve seen it, but we’re stuck here.”
Cosi-Dern interrupted, and held out a hand. “No, it seems you don’t. Astus or Hevel, myself, the Primes, and the Recusant Army — many of those names will be obliterated and will die by the end of this. A lot of things are going to die. While your sister sat here and wasted her power on music and dancing, I’ve been picturing the reports, thinking about the casualties. This isn’t a game, this isn’t a family, no one is going to win and then say let us work — no one may very well win. This is a spiral of entropy, and at least a few of us are rebelling with what time we are given.”
Courage tilted her head as she looked at the masked man beside her. “You mortals and your limited perspective…”
Cosi-Dern let out a sharp snort. “If all you plan on doing is looking down on me with insults, you can leave. Go pretend somewhere else.”
“Always assuming, sort of like our Maker…” Courage continued.
“Did you not hear me? Are you also deaf?” Cosi-Dern held out his hand pleadingly.
“Always concerned about death, but blind to the beauty of life…” She spoke as though she were indeed deaf, or had not heard him at all.
“Smoke be damned, why are you still here insulting me?”
“Neither of us are insulting each other, brother.” Courage said, raising a hand as well.
“I disagree, you’re being a bitch.” Cosi-Dern rested his hand on the hilt of his blade. “Just like Pride, you dismiss us because we think differently than you, I don’t need any more of that in my short life. Now leave me alone, I have a job to do.”
Courage shook her head and crossed her arms. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m not dismissing your ideas, but I think you need to see a bigger picture if you’re going to lead your people.”
“Who am I to argue with the one who knows everything.” Sarcasm dripped through Cosi-Dern’s mask, the recusant soldier taking steps back. “You’re more than welcome to prosthelytize to my gravemarker once I’m either nagged to death or slain.”
“So you’ve given up already?” Courage asked.
“I know a lost cause when I see one.” He shook his head and mumbled a few more words under his breath. “Smoke forbid a moment where you people could see eye to eye.”
“There’s times when we all have to accept defeat, but I don’t understand why you seem so intent on hastening your demise? Shouldn’t you want to live?”
“Pah! There is no greater moment in a recusant life than when we get to die,” Cosi-Dern replied.
“I’ve yet to meet Voi, but I think he’ll find it sad that there are those among the living that so readily seek out death. You’ll get the opportunity to ask him for me when you die, and I suppose there will come a day when I stand with my grief over your grave, Cosi-Dern. I’m not looking forward to that day.” Courage peered at her hand, as if lost in thought or seeking an unseen answer in her palm.
“Ah well, don’t feel too bad when it happens unless you’re the one who killed me,” Cosi-Dern offered, “the day I die will likely be sooner rather than later. I’m a burner after all.”
“As one who knows everything; accept that it’s a truth that you’re not a burner. Not to me, at least, so just try to not die, ya. We’re all warriors, but we have to remember what we’re fighting for. We can’t spend our whole lives fighting, or you’re right, and nobody wins.” Courage chuckled again, and smiled at the soldier once more.
“No, I don’t think you understand.” Cosi-Dern waved his hands. “I am a burner. I don’t have a lot of years left to live. Some of the infected become burners, we burn many times as hot at the expense of our lifespan. It’s all hazeries and fighting for me… and leading the vanguard at Keltra, of course — so I guess no hazeries.”
“I propose an alternative then, but it’s your choice. Just to be certain, your goal is to protect your family, right?” Courage inquired, gesturing around her and the area with one hand.
Cosi-Dern stood up straight. “My task is to lead the vanguard garrison in setting up a secure perimeter to then ensure that the humans present at Keltra don’t fall into the hand of the enemy.”
“What about after that? Do you have any other goals? This is prevalent to your task, I’ll add.” Courage questioned, peering at his mask, as though she were attempting to see beyond it, even beyond his face, to what lay behind the exterior.
“Are you asking me,” Cosi-Dern’s voice softened, “what would I do if I could do anything?”
Courage stepped back, as though she were struck by his words. She blinked in confusion, and thoughts seemed to race across her eyes, until she became very still. “I… I am.”
Cosi-Dern slowly and quietly inched his blade from its resting spot only so much as to show the every start of the sharpened edge. “You see this edge?”
Courage nodded, and smiled slightly. “I do.”
“I’d put it in the eye of whoever thought the creation of this realm was a good idea,” Cosi-Dern finished before slamming the blade back in its spot. “Then I could die happy, for all the good that’ll do.”
“I like hearing some of that defiance! It’s hard to find with all the fatalism you spout. Well, let me explain my alternative then; your current system is greatly flawed considering you’ll be dead in a few years! I don’t know if Apostate plans on remedying this flaw, but if not, I want to offer you the chance to join my sisters and I on the Sacred Path. You’ll then have a shot of what you said before… a shot at being able to do anything.” Courage said, extending her hand towards him in invitation of what she promised.
“If that path has anything to do with how awful your sister treats me and my soldiers, I think you know what my answer is. Contrary to whatever ideas you may have of us, we don’t abandon our comrades.” The Cosi looked away from Courage and to the sleeping humans — or rather the clay vessels that they were. “We’re only here because of those right there.”
“The Sacred Path is what you seek if you don’t wish to abandon your comrades. It's what you seek if you want to prevent further theft. It’ll be our answer to our accursed fates, and give you the power to face your creator and the creator of this realm, ya. To be explicit, my sisters and I can give you the power to change your fate.” Courage stated, placing her hands on her hips nonchalantly.
“You’ll have to speak plainly, I’m just a mortal,” Cosi-Dern replied, no ounce of submission in his tone.
“That’s the chain used to cage us, so I’m offering to make you immortal. I’m offering to make you a god, ya. At least, I’m offering the chance to become one.” Courage answered.
The commander crossed his arms. “That’s a really weird thing to say without an explanation.”
Courage shrugged with an abundance of mirth. “I’m quite weird. I can’t see ahead on the Sacred Path, only guess at things. Anyway, as a mortal, you’ll always be limited in your power, behind the divine, or beneath them, if you like. My sisters and I were given the power from our Maker to walk beside her. Through a ritual, we can give you that same power, and you may be able to ascend, or something like that. Hopefully, that makes sense to you.”
“You have my curiosity if nothing else, but before you say anything further, I'll say that my answer is absolutely not — unless you can show me the benefits through the combined actions of yourself and your sisters as beneficial and good. Lead by example and all that, if you have faith in yourself and your sisters, and show me and the others that you're all capable of something good, then I’ll give your offer another look.” The Cosi rested his hand back on his blade and scanned Courage from behind his mask. “Reasonable?”
Courage bowed before the soldier, and spoke from her bent position. “Will you not accept my offer now?”
“Not before I see the fruits of its labor reflected in its disciples.” Cosi-Dern took a step back.
Courage slowly straightened herself, and nodded. “I can only give you a choice… You’ve seen what I’ve to offer, and I’ve told you what I promise for the future. My invitation remains while you still yet live, brother.”
Fear watched as Kindness and Curiosity had closed their eyes, resting with Rowan now, while Pride remained in her trance, her vision far away from here. She looked to where Courage and the one leading the soldiers continued their conversation, and was thankful that their attention was not on her. This was her opportunity.
With delicate steps, she approached the inattentive Keeper of Keltra, betraying no hint of her hidden intentions. It seemed as though she merely sought company, the comforting feeling of Pride in her arms like the rest of her sisters had so often seeked after their return - earning each of them complaints and harmless whacks on the head. The irony is that there was a part of her that truly did wish to only hold onto her small sister, and forget this plot that would endanger her family.
Fear moved to embrace the small champion from behind, pretending to playfully hug her sister for any that may glance in their direction, but before she could turn back, before she could give up on her plan, Fear called upon the Gnosis, letting the shifting symbols cover her body, and then did what she thought was necessary. Her hands swiftly grasped the blue pendant, and shifted the accessory through the body of her sister and into her own possession. There was no reason to avoid rushing now, and with a hurried pace, Fear began her trek towards the prison containing Zima.
She could sense the growing unease as she neared the prison; her ruse was quickly becoming apparent, and now she could only pray that all went well. Her Wings of Light emerged and she flew towards her destination at high speed, reaching out with the power of the pendant to begin the process of freeing Zima. In the blink of an eye, she stood at the doorway as though she had stood there when the prison was first erected, and she watched as the ice began to viciously crack down the middle to reveal the revenant it held in its cold grasp.
Fear held up her frozen hand and summoned frigid cages around both soldiers, frosted threads intertwining until two glaciers stood beside the winged champion. Within the cell, more of the ice parted, and began to let go of Zima while Fear looked behind her, taking in the fact that all were now aware of her betrayal.
“Listen! You must flee! Get up quickly!” Fear called out to the revenant. Zima was unresponsive but the prison was shattering more and more with each passing second.
At the edge of her vision, black shades blossomed to fill the corner of her eye. There was a roar as Core-Amul rushed to the scene from his periphery post, but before he had time to approach her, something inky and nebulous burst from one of the higher gates. A cloud of charcoal smoke rolled across the chamber, splitting into five shapeless, spectral nimbi as it advanced. Each of the shades held its single crimson eye fixed on her, save for one, whose three lobes swept an expressionless glance over the fortress’ interior. Then it sharply veered aside, followed by two of the others, and lunged for the closest inanimate vessels, even as the remaining two rushed towards the locule and - she could see now - the crumbling block beside her.
Uncertainty struck Fear who had not expected the arrival of these wraiths, but she couldn’t hesitate lest her betrayal was for nothing. She flew into the prison, and grabbed onto Zima, tossing another shield of ice to block the doorway for those that pursued her. She swiftly intoned the Incantation of Sending, surrounding herself and Zima with more otherworldly runes, and then with a burst of strength lifted herself and the revenant through the back ceiling of the prison. There was a clang of metal as the blade of Mourning loosened from Zima’s grasp to drop upon the red stone and melting ice of the prison floor.
They passed through the scarlet stone as though it were merely smoke, and the second to last obstacle in freeing Zima was overcome. The dark champion was still out of it however, a very thin layer of ice, almost like frost, covered her still. All that remained for Fear to avoid was Pride and those unknown trespassers, but it seemed she was fortunate in that regard.
Kindness, Curiosity, and Pride were focused on protecting their helpless sleeping kin, calling forth thousands upon thousands of stone hands that shielded them, the vessels, and the Recusant, from the three wraiths. So truthfully, there was only Courage to contend with, but her sister wouldn’t leave Keltra because of her condition… Fear desperately hoped.
The brash champion was blazing with sacred power, having rushed past the soldiers directly towards her. Fear didn’t need the connection they shared to see the great rage of her sister as she approached, and a deep sense of dread washed over her. The feeling was accompanied by her sister’s thoughts threatening her with the promise that Courage would indeed split her skull open when she reached her. Fortunately for Fear, Courage couldn’t fly.
A chill stronger yet than the touch of the thawing Zima swept through her legs as the two smoke-spirits that had darted in pursuit swept by, brushing her with their cold trails. They did not swerve to follow her, but instead whipped down to interpose themselves between her and Courage.
One of the two threw her an impatient glance with its eye and hissed "Keep going!" Its voice was the dulled whistle of a flame through the air, and before the surprise at its ability to speak had left Fear, it hurled itself at her sister along with its companion, spitting out tongues of grey fire at the grounded champion.
Sheathed in cosmic flames flickering with a myriad of colors, Courage lashed out with a flurry of blows; striking away the torrent of fire directed at her with blurred fists that burned the air around her. “Fear!!! Come back now! Don’t do this!” She shouted, and continued her dash from below despite the attacks from above.
All of Keltra seemed to stir, the entire Keep shifting and molding as the scarlet stone shaped itself into a multitude of limbs warding away the trespassers. Shadows danced across the floor composed of over a hundred thousand hands covering the Recusant and those that slept peacefully during this encounter. From near the bright Eternal Fire, a massive upright palm with curved towering fingers arose from the floor, and seated in the center of the palm stood Kindness, Curiosity, and Pride.
The otherworldly music that filled the vast hall seemed to understand the dire nature of the situation, changing into an intense melody evoking both the tension and awe of incredibly powerful forces at work. The voice of the small champion reached all from afar, echoing throughout the keep. “Cease this nonsense, and come here, sisters!” She called out.
If the three shades that had broken from the flock harboured any doubt that her words might be addressed to them, they gave no sign of it, much as they did not flinch at the spectacle of such puissant marvels. They stubbornly bore down upon the stony shell that had formed around the inanimate bodies, before scattering at the last moment before impact and weaving among the still coalescing limbs further away. The three-eyed one swayed and billowed along to the crescendos of the ambient tune, and its movements seemed to guide the others, for they dove and lunged in a way that preempted the hands' interlocking reaching - so that when an instant later the last ones closed over their charges, the wraiths were likewise trapped beneath them.
“You would hide before the Keeper of Keltra, a Herald of Honor, Daughter of Homura, and wisest among the Sacred Sextet! There is nowhere you can conceal yourself here, for I see with the Gnosis, and the Eternal Fire rejects you! You shall not bring harm to these children!” The thunderous voice of Pride reverberated throughout the scarlet stone as each hand was seeded with the sound of her ordainment and sprouted numerous small simulacrums of the little champion that repeated her words. Her mind was joined by Kindness and Curiosity assisting her processing, allowing her to easily concentrate on multiple tasks, while sustaining her spells. She traced each of the wraiths that thought themselves hidden, and excavated them with shifting stone.
Beside her, Kindness and Curiosity had begun to dance, calling upon their spirit and the power of the Gnosis. Pride observed that the former imbued the scarlet stone with greater resilience and swiftness, while the latter empowered her Shield of Faith in preparation for any further danger that may arise. However, with the absence of Wanderer, there were not enough of their own forces to defeat these trespassers and prevent their escape with Zima. “Let us resolve this peacefully, sisters! I will not offer a second time, and you have no power here!” She proclaimed, and could only pray to the Divine for a peaceful resolution, though she did not foresee such an occurrence with her spell.
The last of the frost finally began to melt away from Zima, ushering in a loud gasp from the dark champion as she began to squirm with animation. Fear's protective barrier against Zima's withering also began to fade and eat at her. The frail demon looked around her and down below to witness what was transpiring. A moment later Zima slowly moved her head to gaze upon Fear, frost and what little ice remained, cracked as her body stilled. Her crimson coals burned as she looked Fear up and down, a thin frown forming on her dark lips as they fled farther from the fight.
"It would be you to free me. Did I leave such an impression?" She asked with a somber tone, darkening a strand of Fear’s hair as she twirled it with a slow finger. "I would thank you but one should not coddle the foolish." She let out a small sigh. "Oh but if it helps your heart any, I am sorry for what comes next, Fear. But you should have let me be."
Fear shook her head with apprehension and scowled at the Revenant. “The gratitude is appreciated, but we fools aren’t free yet!" With as much haste as she could muster, the anxious champion carrying the demon in her arms flew towards the wall of the inner keep. She understood that Pride couldn’t summon stone from nothing, she had to shape it using the finite amount of stone present - however considering everyone found themselves surrounded by aforementioned stone, her little sister was never lacking in needed resources.
Every doorway had been closed, but the shifting symbols of the Gnosis still stained both Fear and Zima, and with great speed the former flew the duo towards the shimmering stone wall. “Close your eyes, this can be disorientating!” She warned, before both of them collided with an uproarious boom against a very solid structure that rejected their passage. Like a tiny bird battering against a resilient window, Fear fumbled in her flight, staggering a great distance downward until she finally recovered and resumed her ascent, soaring upward while she panicked.
“I don’t understand! It worked before! It needed to work!” She screamed, and the damage inflicted upon her by the collision with the wall was observed by her other sisters who’s eyes she saw through now. The upper half of her head had shattered like crystals struck by a hammer, her skull and all above the nose region had been broken upon impact, shards and cracks spreading throughout the entirety of her body where tongues of prismatic flames seeped out.
Her movements became unsteady and aimless, as she pressed against the wall again and again in an attempt to flee from the keep and the punishment of her failures. “I can’t do anything! Anything!” She wailed, and pounded against the stone with her feet in a feeble attempt to break it.
“You would abandon your kin?”
The terrifying and familiar voice of her Maker haunted her now, calling out to her from the cosmic inferno that was the Eternal Fire, but Fear did not want to hear that voice, she did want to face the one she had betrayed in an effort to earn her approval, not when she had failed again. “Leave me alone!”
“Then go, and do not come back until you have atoned…”
Suddenly the stone yielded, then both Fear and Zima were rushing past the blinding barriers of the macabre monument and outside the Keep. The warmth of the Eternal Fire expelled them farther and farther, where Fear could sense that all of Keltra was animated now, hear the tumultuous shifting of stone, even the outer wall which danced and moved like an incomprehensibly immense ring of fire that prevented their escape. Pride was everywhere and possessed the great power to mold the fortress into whatever shape she desired. However, even that last blockade did not intercept them; the Incantation of Sending allowing them to pass through it safely, and the two then seemed free to depart from the bastion of Homura.
“I’m now banished…” Fear whispered, the truth of those words hit her harder than crashing against the unbreakable walls of the keep, and there was no warmth that would wash her guilt and grief now. Only the cold presence of the demon she freed, held in her arms.
Zima had remained silent through it all and only now did she speak in the freedom of the air. "Sweet Fear," she lulled, "What did you ever expect to accomplish from this besides pain?"
“Life is wrought with pain, so I’m going to change that. I’m going to bring you to your friend too. You can kill me if you want, since I’ve known nothing but failure so far, but I’d suggest otherwise. The voices aren’t here, and my sisters will come eventually, also I don’t think you want to be imprisoned again.” Fear replied, adding a humorless chuckle at the end, as they continued to fly.
"Such a noble soul." Zima mused, a malicious glint in her eyes. "A traitor now banished for doing what she deemed right. Wounded and failing. Not to worry, Fear, I'm not going to kill you. You are far too valuable now. Let me… Heal you and ease your suffering." She whispered into her ear. "All will be better when we are together."
“I’m dying, Zima. You lack the power to heal me, and I’ll perish soon. You can kill me now, or wait for my broken body to fall apart, but there’s a chance you keep your freedom with patience. I’m lost either way.” Fear answered, trying to ascertain whether she was traveling the correct direction. “By the way, are we still heading north? I can’t see anything right now.”
"You talk too much about things you know nothing about. Now hush, rest your weary soul." Zima's form began to fade from her grasp, becoming crimson smoke. "Death will not claim one who has helped me spread suffering." And before Fear had any say in the matter, Zima entered her newest vessel with a cold laugh.
-Ill omens accrue as the Eschatli begin their journey to an unknown destination.
-It’s quiet in Keltra, as the Holy Quintet spends time recovering. Courage and Cosi-Dern engage in a conversation where they discuss tactics, objectives, and the state of the world. Courage offers the soldier power, but Dern decides to deliberate before accepting.
-Fear does something stupid, and frees Zima, while Eschatli suddenly appear and begin attacking the helpless vessels, as well as assisting in Zima’s escape.
-Chaos ensues, as the Holy Quintet seek to defend Keltra from the invaders, as Fear flees with Zima, and the two make their narrow escape.
-Fear and Zima share a few more words, before the latter uses her possession.
Fear: -2 Spirit to empower her abilities, and another -2 Spirit to spread the Incantation of Sending on both her and Zima so they could pass through matter.
Courage: -2 Spirit to strengthen herself for the fight to come.
Pride: -2 Spirit to enhance her abilities, and another -2 to empower the Incantation of Seeing.
Kindness: -15 Spirit to empower the scarlet stone of Keltra, granting it greater fluidity and fortitude.
Curiosity: -2 Spirit to enhance the power of the Shield of Faith for the fight to come.
Courage, Kindness, Fear, Curiosity, and Pride gain 4 Spirit. (+1 minimum, +1 collab, +1 medium, +1 long)
The Outsider begins with 6 spirit and gains 4, bringing her to 10.
Zima;
Started with 0
+4
=4
The Holy Quintet gains 2 Prestige. (+1 minimum, +1 long)
The Eschatli begin with 5 prestige and gain 2, bringing them to 7.
Today was a good day. The food was warm, the waters fresh and the stones were with them. Alberich made his way through his earthen halls, engraved and embellished with all the tales of his people and the smells of hearth and home. What a people they were! Made from hardy rock and stone, plucked from the cavity of the lightless caves by the great Stone Father himself. In those days of yore, the land was shadowed in mist, a foggy recollection of their history followed. How their first father, Lodur of the knives, wandered far and wide with the first mother, Brenn of hearth. Long did they seek a home for the child in Brenn’s belly and long did they walk the mist. Lodur etched from his hand a waysign of gold and amber as they traveled in the myths of old until they founded the great dwarven home of Kolgoch’Urum. It meant ‘Under hill of greens’ in the old speak. Lodur pressed the waysign into the doorway and forevermore it stood as a bastion of dwarven kind.
The tales were just that though, tales and today Alberich led Kolgoch’Urum as leader but more importantly, friend. And today, they would make friends with giants. He found Bori and Bragi waiting for him near the entrance of their hilly home. A wide passage, guarded by kin wearing their best leathers and wielding their best clubs. The doorway held the back of waysign, their most coveted heirloom, a picture of two dwarves, braving the crest of a hill to look upon a ringed sun. Bori and Bragi were brothers, nephews even, both of few winters but enough to be man dwarves. Fiery eyed, and red haired as their mother’s, his sister had passed from the morning sickness years ago and their father was one that no one spoke off. A deserter and a fool.
“Nephews!” Alberich roared, slapping them on their shoulders to give a mighty squeeze. “Today is a good day! Today is the day we meet with the giant’s leader, to talk about trade and a brighter future for Kolgoch’Urum! I am happy you are here with me, you would have made your mother proud.”
The two puffed out their chests. “Uncle!” Bori said, “We are honored to be here with you at a time like this. Truly.”
“Yes uncle, I can think of no one better suited to lead us to a brighter future.” Bragi nodded.
“Good, then let us go out and take on this day with mirth in our hearts and stone in our bellies.” Alberich pulled them along as they passed through the great door, followed by two guards. It led out into a bubbling brook, nestled at the foot of the hills. Birds chirped and he had to cover his eyes briefly so that they could adjust to the morning glow of their grandfather sun.
Once his eyes were better he made note that the giants had not yet come. They had said early in the morning had they not? Alberich frowned. “I wonder what delays our friends here.” he said aloud, kicking a stone into the brook. It gave a quiet splash.
“Perhaps they are delayed?” Bragi said, a little too loud for being so close. Alberich looked at him with a raised eyebrow, then watched, as a spear landed with a sickening thud in Throth, his guardsmen. Hrog, his other guardsmen, tackled him to the ground in safety as a spear nearly whizzed over the both of them. Bori gave a shout and then a yell, as a spear found a resting place in his shoulder. There was no cover beside the brook, but there was the door. Alberich restled for a look and he found it closed. Bragi stood in the way.
A splashing of water caught his attention and he looked to see several dwarves crossing the brook. They wore dark furs, unkempt beards, and haggard eyes. Each carried a tool; a spear, an axe, or a club. Bori was the second to die, he pleaded for help from his brother but a club came down on his head and ended him. Then they came upon Hrog and he, and though Hrog was quick to his feet, he was skewered. They grabbed Alberich with hard hands and raised him to his knees before Bragi. The others were already getting rid of the bodies.
“Why?” he asked his once nephew.
Bragi brandished a stone knife from his belt and clutched it with anger. No longer did he see the youthful eyed mirth or the laughter of a loving boy. Now there was only hate burning in those eyes of amber.
“You lied to us. You told me our father was a traitor, a deserter, that our mother died of the morning sickness!” Bragi struck him with a fist. The blow dazed Alberich but he was made of tougher stuff than to be felled too easily. He struggled in his captor’s grip.
“Your father WAS a traitor, boy!” The older dwarf shouted. “I know what he was going to do, what he wanted to do with our future! I could never allow it. Poor Aina only got in the way. She fell head over heels with that stupid pi-” Bragi struck him again, this time his ear began to ring.
He spat blood at Bragi’s feet. Another strike. “Don’t speak about my father that way!” He shouted at the older dwarf.
“I tried my best to make things right with the Stone Father. Took you in, raised you and now this is how you repay me? By killing your fellow dwarves and your own brother! Like father, like son!” Alberich sneered, blood falling into his beard.
“All my father wanted to do was expand our great nation, to build it better than ever before! To make the Stone Father proud, and you exiled him for it. I owe you nothing, old dwarf. Your isolation makes us weak, makes us unprotected to the greater threats in this land! My father has a vision and one that nobody will stand in our way against. Not you…” He looked over to the corpse of his brother. “Not even Bori.”
Alberich laughed. “Expansion will lead us to ruin. There are no great threats that can’t be negotiated with. We are little people in a world of giants, what can you or your father ever hope to establish? Ruin I say! Desecration of our forefather’s names! You are as stupid and weak willed as he, now be down with this. Death is the only way you will ever get rid of me, Bragi. Let me go and your doom will be at hand. At least in death I can live with the Stone Father forever and turn my back to the ruin of my HOME!”
“NRRGHH!” Bragi shouted, plunging the dagger in the heart of his uncle. The old dwarves eye’s flickered and in moments he was gone.
Bragi spit on him. “Father sends his regards.” He looked at his father’s clan, the Ut’s and smiled. “Get these bodies disposed of, send for my father, we have giants to deal with.”
Mair was in a strange place. It had only been a day since she had awoken from a fretful dream of death and despair when she realized where she had been. Captured by the giant folks, but not really. She was more of a guest now, celebrated and adored. She was conflicted, even now as the acolyte keeper (as those were still learning to be proper Keeper’s were called), Shysie, combed her hair. She had even helped her bathe, now that she had a broken arm. Chilali had told her that Shysie had been the one to accidentally crush her, so she felt she had to do this to make up for it.
Mair had been fine with it at first, but she quickly learned she did not at all like so much attention to herself. Sometimes it made her feel less lonely and other times it made her feel even lonelier. And it was becoming ever more prevalent in her mind; she missed her people and Aeron, despite his aloofness. But her mission… Her divine task… Could she take a break from it?
“What do you think?” Shysie asked. Mair blinked and her thoughts came back to reality. They were sitting next to a pond, her gaze along the far shore where Keepers washed. She looked down at their small bit of glassy reflection and gasped. Where once her hair had been worse for wear, it was now shiny, lush, and straight. It was enough to make her feel like a person again, instead of just some creature who could turn into a raven. She nodded approvingly.
“Shysie… Thank you.” she eeked out. Talking had been another new thing, well not new, but old and new. She had to find her voice again after going so long without speaking. “Come, let us head back. Keeper Alona should be returning soon with news from the dwami.” The giantess stood and smiled down at Mair, offering a hand. The small girl, ever feeling like a child amidst these women, took her hand and was helped up. Shysie was also learning how to control her strength, so Chilali had said, which had unnerved Mair at first but Shysie was doing good.
Her other hand was cradled by a leather strap, to keep it from jostling around too much. Mair was even fitted with some leather skins that fit her. It was amazing how such large hands could weave such delicate crafts. In fact, Mair often found things she had never even thought could exist before. Clay pots as they were called, copper tools, homes, weaving, crafting- the list went on. She felt as if she was somehow in the realm of the gods, and that these were their people, delegated to learn and teach and progress. Often she wondered how her own people were doing or if they had unlocked such secrets as well. If they hadn’t Mair could teach them and that was another weight upon her shoulder for whether or not she should go back. She wanted to learn everything she could here, it was all so fascinating and as much as the women gave her too much attention, they were always helpful and smiled.
Did she deserve it?
She pondered this as they walked through the camp, waving and smiling as they went.
“Shysie?” Mair asked, looking up at the tanned goddess in a moment of quiet.
The woman looked down and smiled, making her heart do strange things. “Yes Mair?”
“Do you think I was meant to come here?”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. I do not know, little one. Perhaps it is as the Father Spirit guided or by simple chance. All that matters is that you are here now. I do know that you were definitely not meant to have a broken arm.”
“But if my arm had not been broken, then I would have flown away and not stayed.” Mair protested.
“I hadn’t thought of that!” Shysie placed a soft hand on her shoulder and Mair felt a jolt of something down her spine. It was a strange feeling, almost… Excitement. She blushed pink and looked away. “Come, put these thoughts from your head. As Chilali would say, ‘do not think of what could have happened but what is happening now’ or something along those lines. Your arm will heal in time and you will soar again Mair. Fear not.”
“I know, it’s just… I don’t know. I’m almost glad it did get broken. You are all so kind to me and I…” her voice quieted. A gentle squeeze of reassurance made her look back up at Shysie.
“It’s okay, Mair.” Shysie said in a calming voice. “Put these doubts from your heart. Spirits, I sound like Chilali.” she laughed.
Mair smiled then laughed herself. Maybe she did deserve some happiness after all.
For voli week we take a look at the ‘dwami’ tribe of dwarves that the Keepers know about. But not all is as it seems and betrayal happens. A future uncertain now for the dwarf tribe under the fern hill, but a plan is underway. Then we see how Mair is doing and despite feeling really conflicted, dealing with her emotions, and feeling guilty- She is doing alright under the care of the Keepers.
The Flamekeepers
Starting = 2 +1 For significant role +1 For length
Ending = 4
Mair
Starting = 6 +1 for playing a role +1 medium length +1 pov point
Stepping off of their boat, the Heralds of Honor immediately felt the change in temperature, and had shivered once involuntarily. “It’s colder than I thought!” Curiosity exclaimed, while Courage, Kindness, and Fear all merely chuckled.
Each and every breath they took formed into mist and swirled in front of their faces, and they looked at the frost which coated the looming trees that stood vigilant before them. Snow blanketed the forest floor, and the realm of Chailiss seemed like it slumbered. Aside from the song of the sea, the world was much more quieter in this place.
All five of the champions silently intoned the Incantation of Sending, and the shifting symbols of the Gnosis manifested upon their skin, so that they left no traces of their passage as they walked farther inland.
Fear and Curiosity carried Skydancer; their task consisted mainly of tugging the almost weightless vessel around, and avoiding any obstacles. Courage, Kindness, and Wanderer took the lead, noticing that the coast was not abandoned.
The familiar sight of humans came into view, but these were much larger and all male. When one had spotted them, he had rushed back to the others, stirring up a great ruckus as more and more men came out from the trees onto the beach to get a look at them. Many eyes had quickly fallen on them but the members of the Holy Quintet organized themselves to properly greet their northern kin.
It wasn’t long before three men came forth from the group. They walked side by side, wearing an assortment of feathers in their long kept hair and necklaces of shells around their necks. The middle one was the tallest, bare chested and carried an old twisted knob of a stick. The one to his left was shorter, also bare chested, with lighter brown hair and equally tan skin. The last man wore tannish furs of some sort, with braided black hair. He was missing his left ear. Their faces were a mix of reverence and awe and when they neared the Holy Quintet, all fell to their knees, heads dipped to the sandy beach.
“Spirit Mother…” The middle man spoke with a deep, projecting voice. “We were foolish. We were stupid. We knew not what we were capable of. For this we sinned and in doing so, we stained our hearts. We cannot ask for forgiveness, for that would be too easy. But we are all of us, sorry. So sorry.” His voice broke and the man began to sob.
Courage was the first to react, dashing towards the three kneeling men, and moving with empowered grace. Her uncovered hand gently rested upon the man’s shoulder, who peered up at her with strikingly blue orbs brimmed with tears. She peered at him with shimmering sincerity shining in her eyes. Her other hand clenched into a fist, the gold metal emitting a couple clinks. “Brother, you can always ask for forgiveness. You’ve become lost, but that just means you have to find your way again, ya.” She spoke softly, and stood by him. The other two looked up as well, silent tears falling down into the sand, lost forever.
Kindness and Wanderer approached, and bowed before the trio of giants, as Fear and Curiosity caught up, and bowed as well.
“We’ve come to offer aid.” Kindness said, as she and her sisters straightened themselves. Curiosity and Wanderer glanced at each other, uncertainty filling them upon the sight of so many people, though there was less than they had expected.
The man in the middle stared up at Courage before giving her a small nod. “How does one ask for forgiveness in the face of such a crime? How could we be worthy of any aid? Tell me, for you have called me brother, are you not the Spirit Mother?” He looked at all of them one by one.
Courage looked back towards her sisters, and saw the effect the words had upon them; a paradoxical mixture of sorrow and joy. Bittersweet feelings, she realized, but she could not understand why she or her sisters felt them. She turned back to the man, and smiled. “You can’t seek forgiveness on your own. Our Mother will come… We’re her messengers that’ve come to spread the word of honor by helping our kin. Listen, you can’t give up either, because like you said, that’d be too easy. You’ve got to always keep trying, and know that you’re not alone.”
Slowly the men nodded to each other as they thought upon her words, then the middle man wiped his tears away. “We and our tribe, would do whatever it takes no matter the journey, for forgiveness. My name is Bodaway. This is Chesmo,” He gestured to the man with light brown hair, “And that is Eapalek.” The man missing an ear gave a small nod at the recognition. “What would the Daughter Spirits ask of us?”
“We wish to know more about this land, to see it through your eyes. Would you share your stories with us? Please.” Courage answered, and gestured with her head towards her sisters. “I’m Courage, and those are our sisters; Kindness, Fear, Curiosity and Wanderer. It’s nice to meet you.” Upon being named, each champion raised her hand, and introduced herself. There were a few noticeable differences between the quintuplets - primarily the minor accessories and tools they wore, but there was also a more subtle difference in the way they held and expressed themselves.
Bodaway rose to his full height, towering over the smaller champions. Chesmo and Eapalek followed and began to walk back. “Come.” Bodaway said, gesturing for them to follow. “We shall feast and learn of each other! It is not every day the spirits come to greet us.”
Courage shook her head with mirth before she and her sisters joined the trio of giants as they returned to their tribe. “Thank you, brother.” She said when she was beside Bodaway, calling up to him as she took two strides for every one step he took in order to match his pace. The ground rumbled ever so slightly and her own footprints could fit three times within his own. Yet besides them being so different to them, they seemed to just fit. For the very trees loomed before them now, the true giants of the north in all their splendid glory. It would have taken two tall giants, standing atop each other's shoulders to reach the lowest branches and they went up, up, and up.
As they neared the rest of the tribe, a great hollering came from them as Chesmo and Eapalek no doubt told what was about to happen. A great thundering of feet, the sound like a landslide, erupted forth as the giant men began to prepare with what they had. Many more came to greet the Quintet, and give reverence to such holy spirits as they were led into the trees towards the camp proper. A wide path had been formed by many feet over and over again through the underbrush, lined with many men hard at work. Some were beating animal hides, others were threading furs and fibers, weaving their craft into works. All stopped and waved as they passed.
“What happened here?” Curiosity asked from the rear, as her sisters waved back and offered friendly smiles. She let go of Skydancer, and raced ahead of their entourage to hear an answer to her question, leaving Fear to carry the airborne boat by herself.
To the giants, Skydancer was an even stranger sight than the champions. Many offered to help carry it and then most did without waiting for an answer. They lifted it high into the sky, enough so that Fear no longer had feet on the ground.
“Eh!” Fear looked around in surprise, before pulling herself up and over the railing of the vessel so that she was carried as well. The anxious champion gave those that were lifting the boat a gracious nod, and quietly muttered thanks.
Bodaway chuckled. “Such a strange craft of yours. What is its purpose?”
“It’s a gift from Chailiss, and it allowed us to fly here all the way from Keltra. It’s nice and comfortable, and goes really fast! It took a while, but we eventually settled on Wanderer’s name for it, so now it’s Skydancer. We’re hoping to get a chance to give proper thanks to Chailiss when we find him.” Courage explained, wearing a cheeky grin.
There was a mystified response from those that heard her, while the few that carried Skydancer stood a bit taller. “What a mighty gift from the Spirit Father! Truly we are blessed this day.” Bodaway exclaimed. A great fire now loomed in the distance, sparking to the heavens in a cleared area with large hides and logs that made shelters around it. More and more men were gathering within, bringing their crafts and food stuffs. As they entered the area proper, Bodaway gestured to a spot where a great log sat. Large enough for each of them to sit on. Skydancer was placed next to the log but before any of them could even try to sit on it, men quickly placed down hides and furs to make it more comfortable.
“Please sit.” Bodaway said to them, “Sit and we can talk of many things around the warm fire.”
As they took their seats and relaxed, Curiosity raised her hand as she spoke. “Did you use the Incantation of Making to create all of these things? Everything sort of smells strange.” She asked, poking the cushioning underneath her. Her question caused her sisters to look around as well with bemused expressions.
Bodaway raised an eyebrow. “In-can-tation?” He spaced the word out before shaking his head. “The land of our father provided all we needed. Here,” he nodded to a fellow man with yellow feathers in his hair. He brought over a large pot, the size of their head and placed it before them on the furs. “Our water is fresh, drink it if you are thirsty.” He gestured to another man and he brought two bowls to them. One with a strange, hot chunk of something that smelled savory. The other bowl contained blueberries as fat as their palms. “Eat of our food if you are hungry.” And finally he gestured to another man, who carried a bundle of furs. He placed it behind them and bowed before backing away. “Our clothes are large, but wear them if you are cold.”
Curiosity excitedly looked over all that had been offered to them, reaching out to touch the fruit within the second bowl, but before she could, Wanderer grabbed her arm. The silent champion simply shook her head, and Curiosity retreated her hand with a dejected look.
“Your father is generous giving you all of these gifts.” Kindness remarked, hesitantly examining the tantalizing content of the first bowl. “We appreciate your generosity, but we have no need to drink and eat.” She continued until Courage interjected.
“Come on, Kindness. Let’s at least try some.” Her words further tempted the rest of her sisters, except for Wanderer who kept away from the offerings. Fear looked at Courage and Kindness, eyes darting back and forth between the two with uncertainty.
“Shouldn’t we wait until we find Chailiss, or something? Without our Make… without Mother, we can’t cleanse ourselves if we consume something we shouldn’t.” The anxious champion said, and shook her head with frustration upon watching Curiosity swiftly plop a blueberry into her mouth.
“See, Curiosity knows what to do.” Courage exclaimed, and grinned at Kindness. The brash champion then looked at the bowl containing the chunk of something, and wondered how to eat it. Kindness, Fear, and Wanderer observed Curiosity as she smiled brightly, and began grabbing more berries.
“Our Maker will likely be angered by this, but that does bring me a modicum of joy.” Kindness muttered, as she relented, and proceeded to grasp a piece of the food-chunk, and rip it free before she slowly ate it. “Mmm… this is really good.”
Courage joined her by following her lead, and only Fear and Wanderer were among those that remained hesitant to touch anything. Fear looked at her frozen hand, before she shook her head and relented.
“Fear… no.” The hand made of ice halted, hovering over the second bowl, its owner stopped by the emotionless voice of Wanderer. With a sigh, Fear pulled her hand back, and stayed still while three of her sisters enjoyed their gifts.
“So… what happened after we left?” Fear asked Bodaway, seeking something to distract her from the strange noises her sisters were making.
He and the other men had remained silent as they watched the Quintet debate about eating. It was not their place to interject.
But now he looked to Fear and the other men could not hold eye contact, so they dipped their heads as if in shame. "I can only think that you mean what happened after our Spirit Mother left with the koloss in tow? It is a tale of great joy and bitter sorrow. But we will tell it now so that you understand our first words upon the beach." The man cleared his throat and looked into fire. "When we first walked this earth, feeling the new sensations of life, we were not alone. The women walked beside us under the teachings of our Spirit Father. We learned many things, even the art of fire from the bijjiork. It was that fire that was our downfall."
Chesmo began to speak, his voice like honey. "Her name was Lansa, the first Flamekeeper, and she loved her flame with great passion. She tended to it, she made it grow strong and kept it alight in the dark. Back then fire was power and those who could keep it, were seen as objects of want. None were better than Lansa and so we men flocked to her, wishing she would share our beds beside us, or to be our wife. Lansa, her heart was good, she declined those who asked. For the fire was hers and that was all she wanted."
Eapalek was the next to speak, his voice was raw and tired. "Our Spirit Father left for a time and not a day passed before Lansa was taken from her fire by force. For some men could not handle rejection, desire and lust. Lansa had her flame extinguished." He dipped his head lower, many of the men had sorrowful faces, others were blank with eyes full of grief.
Bodaway spoke again, "So our women gathered and spoke to each other as they mourned and it was decided that because of our crime against Lansa, men and women would separate. We were outraged at first but to do anything or say anything… We would be no better than the men who had done the crime itself. They never came forward and even to this day we know not who they are or else we might have…" He shook his head. "Some went this way, some went that way. The exodus of men and women was painful but necessary. We have not seen the band of women we followed for some time now, though we know they are half a day away up the beach. Wapeka the Brave spoke of a prophecy, that when the sky danced we would come together again for future generations. Even now we wait for the sky to dance, a small hope for the price we pay. Now our band lives along the coast and we shall learn of its waters and what they might offer us. That is our story."
Many nodded in agreement and all was quiet for a time until two men walked into the camp holding a large stick with an even larger fish between them. It had red scaled, bulbous eyes and was gutted. It was nearly as tall as the champions when they set it next to the fire to cook.
"Our fishermen have returned!" Bodaway exclaimed, clasping them on their backs. "Hehan and Tipo, best we have when it comes to slippery fish." Both bowed before the Champions.
"An honor to meet the Daughter Spirits!" Tipo said.
"We hope you will try our snapping beast, the meat is sweet and succulent!" Hehan added.
At the sight of the slain creature, the Holy Quintet were taken from their thoughts and consideration of the tale they had been told, and forced to recoil. All aside from Courage had risen to their feet, and stared with widened eyes at the neatly eviscerated corpse placed beside the flames to cook. Fear placed a hand over her mouth, and looked away - anywhere that wasn’t the lifeless beast before her, while Curiosity found herself silently crying large wet tears as she choked out a single question. “Why?”
Courage clenched and unclenched her gauntleted fist, flinching and twitching as she slowly shook her head. “Listen… it’s not as bad as it looks…” She muttered, loud enough for her sisters to hear, before she stood and bowed before the two newest arrivals.
“Thank you, Hehan and Tipo. It is an honor to meet you both.” She said, and offered them a polite nod, before giving a pointed look to the rest of her sisters who hesitantly and slowly followed the lead of the only one among the quintet that was not trembling with distress.
But it was too late, for many of the men had puzzled looks on their faces, and others looked distraught. Hehan and Tipo deflated a little, both looking as they were forcing small smiles. All eyes had gone to them but mostly to Curiosity, who cried.
“Have we… Have we upset you?” Bodaway asked in a gentle voice. “If we did something wrong…” His voice quieted.
Curiosity pointed at the carcass, before bringing her hand back to her chest. “Did something kill this child? I don’t understand… what could do this?” She asked, and looked to the two men that had carried the corpse into the village.
They looked at each other with growing distress. Tipo opened his mouth to speak, “We…” but his words betrayed him and Bodaway quickly took over. “Daughter Spirit, why do you call the fish a child? It died so that it could give us life. If it is wrong to kill for life then we have failed you yet again.” His tone was a somber one.
Courage was quick to speak up, raising her hands and gesturing to both parties. “We’re here to help everyone, not condemn them. When I was lost at sea, Sala told me to eat a Godfish, otherwise I’d drown. We’re supposed to listen to the Divine, ya.” Her words were directed at her sisters, then she turned to the men of the village. “Where we’re from, there’s no need to eat anything. The light of the Eternal Fire feeds us. It’s just a bit surprising to see such things for us.” She explained, attempting to assuage all those gathered with a calming voice and an affable attitude. However her sisters did not find themselves soothed by her speech, still perturbed by the sight of death.
“Apologies. We do not mean to cause any distress. Hehan. Tipo. Let us cook the fish elsewhere for now.” Bodaway said with a nod. The two gave a sad nod to Bodaway in return, then dipped their heads in shame as they grabbed the fish and left the bonfire.
“They will be alright.” Bodaway reassured. “This land can be plentiful to us but we have no fire like that which would keep us full all the time. I am not sure if it would give you any comfort, but the life we take… We do not let anything suffer. And when our time comes, we return to the land that gives to us.”
With red cheeks and chagrin, Courage rubbed the back of her head and fumbled with her next words. “I, uh, understand. We don’t speak, um, for… the Divine, and we’re still learning as well… We just want to help everyone, and it’s hard trying to figure out how to do that.”
Kindness placed a hand upon Courage’s shoulder, and shook her head. “This is wrong, Courage. Our Maker had to cleanse you after you consumed that Godfish, and you were sick before that. Our inner fires were not designed to do this.” She said, however, her reckless sister only brushed her hand away and scowled at her in response.
“You know, for someone that thinks she’s such a pain, you sure sound a lot like our Maker. I’m sure she would love to scold them for something when they didn’t even have any chance to make a choice. It seems like we just left them to starve, doesn’t it?” Courage remarked, before she stepped away from both Kindness and the rest of the quintet. The Champions of Homura were all silent, exuding a combination of frustration and sorrow.
The men of the camp also reflected the mood of the Champions. There came little talk, only slight whispers and gazes that only held the fire. A few picked at their food, but it seemed many of their appetites had left them. The only audible noise that could be followed was the crackle of the fire. Even Bodaway did not seem to know what to say.
“I would seek another way… anything but the theft of sacred life. I would not partake in this act even if it meant I would perish otherwise. Would you eat Lorelei if the situation necessitated it? Would you eat Pride if the Divine demanded it? I cannot condone this, and I would stand by our Maker if it meant I can bring an end to this madness.” Kindness proclaimed.
“You’re an idiot, sis. What do you think we were putting inside us? There’s none here that know the Gnosis, so there’s none here that know the Incantation of Making. Come on, even Curiosity must’ve known when she was stuffing her face.” Courage countered, pointing a finger at the aforementioned champion who proceeded to spew blood and fruit from her mouth.
Wanderer and Fear swiftly offered their support to their vomiting sister, holding her up as her legs gave way. “Curiosity, what’s wrong!?! What’s happening!?!” The anxious champion looked to Courage and Kindness who stared at the scene with abject horror.
The men stood up in surprise and shouts. Some cried out about evil spirits, others simply left and many could only watch to see what was going to happen. Bodaway hefted his staff and moved towards Curiosity. “She is rejecting the food. Hold back her hair.” Was all he said.
Fear gently laid Curiosity down, as Wanderer followed the instructions of the giant, and kept any red hair from falling in front of the sick girl’s face. Curiosity continued to retch, despite the lack of anything else escaping her stained lips, and the two sisters looking after her turned to Bodaway for further guidance. “What do we do now?” Fear desperately asked.
Courage stepped farther back, and averted her gaze, her scarlet cheeks flushed with shame instead of humility, and she bit back any more words she might have said. Kindness raised a hand to her own mouth, and her fair skin became sickly pale.
“There is nothing you can do but let it pass on its own.” He looked to Kindness. “She will be next, see to her.” A great sigh then escaped him. “This talk of how we live and what we do to survive, has disagreed with your minds. This is why the rejection takes place I think.”
Fear nodded, and stood up to assist Kindness, but her sister refused, holding her hand up to ward away the anxious champion. “I am fine. I can stand. Do not concern yourself with me, look after Curiosity.”
“But-
“No, our sister needs you now more than I do. I appreciate this, but I am fine.” With a firm tone, Kindness continued to push Fear away, and weakly nodded in gratitude at both Bodaway and her sister.
“If it’s wrong, why does it feel so good then?” Courage asked, “Wouldn’t everything just stop and find another way, like you said.” She questioned further, as she stepped up to Kindness who began pushing her away as well, but the brash champion rebuked the attempts to fend her off, and forced Kindness to take a seat.
“It’s like using the Gnosis, you can’t just eat as much as you want. You have to learn how to eat proper, ya.” Kindness closed her eyes as Courage began lecturing her. “Our brothers here must’ve eaten a bunch since we left them, and they aren’t sick, am I wrong?” Courage directed the question to Bodaway then, yearning for a consoling answer.
He shook his head. “Seldom do we get sick. It is only after one eats something that has gone bad or should not have been eaten in the first place, that we do get sick.” He laid a hand upon Courage’s shoulder. “I do not know what the Spirit Mother ever intended for us to eat or not eat, how we should be or how we shouldn’t. Correct me if I am wrong but you all seem like children. You do not know how this land works, how to survive, how to thrive. Tell me, without your fire, how long would you last?” He looked upon Kindness next. “We do not eat people, to say such is an insult. I mean no disrespect when I say this, but you do not listen to our words and judge us too harshly for one named Kindness. You have come to help and offer guidance, yet you have already judged and made up your mind. Look at my brother’s and their faces, see how frightened they are? You will not help any if no one trusts you. I have spoken my words, listen to them if you will.” He let go of Courage’s shoulder and went back to sit down. Chesmo came to him and began to whisper in his ear, leaving the Champions to themselves with watchful eyes.
Courage stroked the hair atop the head of her reticent sister, as she looked all around her and sighed. “We’ve really stumbled, huh. We’re only a couple days older than all of you, and yet we’re the ones that are in need of teaching. Please, let me apologize on behalf of my sisters. We want to help, we truly do, but it seems like we’re always messing up. We’ve got twenty five days until we must return to Keltra, and we were hoping to catch up to Chailiss before then. Maybe we can’t help you on our own, but if you can help us help you, then ya, just maybe we can make this work.”
Her speech was loud and clear, but was also accompanied by the sounds of Curiosity whimpering as Wanderer caressed her. “I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry…” She sobbed, and her sister continued to try to soothe her. Fear stood between both pairs, and wore a lost expression; her mouth slightly opened, but with no words to speak with, and trembling eyes that gazed at both everything and nothing.
Eapalek stood. “In the days when our Spirit Father walked with us, Childan united, we made many mistakes and we stumbled and fell. We still do but he would always say; ‘To fall is to be human, to make mistakes, is to be human. That is why when you rise, you do better. Learn, grow, teach.’ We were younger then and did not know the depth of such wisdom but now, it becomes clearer every day.” Around him the men began to nod in agreement. “First you must ask yourselves who are the ones that need help. Second, you must act. You have apologized, now do better. Stumble, fall, but do better when you rise.” He sat back down and dipped his head towards the flame, closing his eyes.
“Sounds like the Sacred Path. We’ll do better, I promise!” Courage answered, adding her own affirming nod. “It’s just being human to make mistakes, and gives us the chance to be better, ya. You may not believe this, brother, but even the Divine make mistakes. What a foolish world we live in, but you know what, I’m not afraid, because I’m not alone. Let’s find Chailiss, and help each find our way of bettering ourselves.”
“One does not find the Spirit Father,” Bodaway began, “He finds…” His voice quieted as a strange bird flew through the camp. It was a spectral blue that flew around Courage’s head before disappearing into the trees. Next came a deep chill and a heavenly white orb stopped in midair over them, sprinkling down snowflakes.
The Lord of Winter materialized before them then, the great bonfire turning to embers as the men shouted in awe, rising to meet their Father.
”Quickly, we have little time, Champions.” He said, taking one look over Curiosity and Wanderer, before waving his hand over them. Two blue pendants, the same as Fear’s, Courage’s and Kindness’ appeared around their necks.
Courage offered a hasty bow, before pulling Kindness to her feet, while Wanderer assisted Curiosity, with the aid of Fear, and the five Heralds of Honor stood mostly prepared before the God of the Cold. “We’re ready for your commands!” Courage cried out, her eyes burning bright with reignited conviction.
The god knelt on one knee before them. ”By chance or fate I have found you, and welcome you to this land. This is not how I wished your time here to be but I have need of you. A goddess lays dying and I must go to her but there is another matter I need help with. I do not ask you this lightly, for it could be incredibly dangerous. Please, let me know now before I continue. It is your right to refuse and I will think no less of you.” He said with urgency in his voice.
“We accepted the dangers when we set out from Keltra. Let us know how we can be of assistance, your grace.” Courage smashed her bare fist into the palm of her golden gauntlet, and offered Chailiss an eager grin. None of her sisters objected, though there was much less enthusiasm among them.
“We want to be worthy of your faith in us…” Fear added, hesitantly articulating her willingness with an icy thumbs up.
Chailiss looked to Fear and smiled, ”You have always been worthy.” he said, looking at each of them but his smile faded. ”My… Daughter. Zima, Nisshi as I called her, is… She has returned. But she is not as she once was. She has become something, I fear, darker and twisted by forgoing death. I ask you to find her but under no circumstances should you speak or fight her. I only want to know where she is and when I do, I shall come and see to her. Is this understood?”
“Yes, your grace!” Courage answered, her words followed by Kindness and Fear saying the same, while Curiosity and Wanderer merely nodded. “What does your daughter look like?” Courage asked, content upon hearing and seeing her sister’s acceptance of their task, and dedicating herself completely to her new assignment.
“She’s a shapeshifter, correct?” Kindness softly inquired, recalling the vision they were shown in Keltra of the various creatures they had seen depicted when Chailiss described his daughter before.
Chailiss nodded. ”I know not what shape she will be in but Mish-Cheechel is the Bjork’s name. A vengeance seeker who thought to kill Phelenia with Zima. I know not if they are still together.”
“We’ll find her, and you’ll be reunited with your daughter!” Courage proclaimed, and this time her words seemed to reinvigorate her sisters. They each stood straighter, and their eyes held newfound resolve. “The Holy Quintet won’t fail you!”
Fear raised her frozen hand once more, and timidly approached the God of the Cold. “May I ask, where’s Viho? I was wondering if I - if we could see him again…” She asked.
Chailiss took Fear’s hand within his own. ”Viho searches for Zenia, I have need of her as well. Do not worry Fear, you shall see him again. I promise you this, that when I see him next, I shall send him to you.” He let go of her hand, a jolt of power flowed through Fear in response. ”You may find your hand can do more than grasp things now.” he smirked.
She looked back and forth between her hand and Chailiss, and smiled with hints of joyful tears around her eyes. “Thank you, you’ve done so much for me…” She leapt forward, holding onto the deity for a moment. “We’ll find Nisshi.” She murmured into his chest.
Courage seemed about like she was about to leap as well, until she threw her fist into the air. “Zenia is what we need! I remember feeling really happy when she was around, and there’s also Voligan! If those two offer their help, you’ll be safe, Chailiss? All of you! You and our Maker can save us…” Her words were neither a question or affirmation, and Courage found that despite her best efforts, the previous mentioning of a dying goddess still filled her with a dreadful feeling.
”Of course Courage. Of course.” He said, outstretching a hand towards her. It was half closed at first but as it opened, something sparkled to reveal a dazzling light blue gem that he dropped in her hand. ”Set this into your gauntlet for the journey ahead.” He said before turning to Curiosity and Wanderer. ”Step forth.” he told them.
Wanderer helped Curiosity approach, and the two stood before Chailiss. Curiosity looked up, her chin stained with drying blood, and she wiped away another tear. “I’m sorry, your grace. Please forgive me.” She said with a sniffle. Chailiss looked puzzled, but very gently wiped the blood from her chin and then rubbed her face underneath her eye with his thumb. ”I know not what you think you have done wrong but all the same, you are forgiven. Now let me see your shield.”
She held out her arm the buckler was attached to, the face of the small shield aimed up and reflecting the light of day with its dozens of glittering gemstones. With his free hand, Chailiss circled over it and briefly shut his eyes. When he opened them, the shield looked much the same, besides the rim which had turned an icy blue. ”Your job is the most important one, without you they would be in harm's way. With this shield, you will protect them all, Curiosity.”
“I will. I’ll protect them.” Curiosity held the shield close to her chest, and bowed to the God of the Cold once more. “Thank you, your grace.” She looked up at him with a sincere smile, letting his words soothe the ache in her heart, and finding the strength to stand on her own. “Can I have a hug too?” She asked.
He pulled her into an embrace as he looked to Wanderer. Her staff pulsed and a shimmering white orb set itself at the top. ”With that, you may see farther than ever before.”
The silent champion looked at the orb atop her staff, then looked at her sister and Chailiss, before she wordlessly joined them in the hug as well. With mild reluctance, the two eventually let go of the god, and stepped back. Chailiss stood and briefly looked at Kindness before turning back to face the men. All had large eyes with looks of profound reverence upon their faces. Chailiss rose his hands and proclaimed, ”I have not forgotten you my sons. Know that you must let go of the burden in your heart. Do not blame yourselves for the actions of the few but never become complacent. I now give you my second sacred law, let all men know; Do not force your will upon another mortal or you will be marked forever more for your sin.” he waved his hand over them and the air turned brisk as a wind whipped through their hair. All their eyes shined with a bright blue before fading and one by one they looked to their hands.
“Father…” Bodaway and the others murmured.
”Learn of this power and grow with it and remember my law.” he said, before turning back to the champions. ”I must leave you now, search the west of this continent for her. There lies a gate that leads to the Underworld. Start there.” he smiled at them. ”I wish you the best of luck in this endeavor and know that I will see you again. Pray to me when you find her and I will come.” His eyes fell upon Kindness once more. ”Come see me off, Kindness. Farewell Courage, Curiosity, Wanderer and Fear.” He said with a nod each before gesturing for the first named Champion to follow him.
“Farewell, your grace.” The dismissed four replied, before jumping towards Skydancer, and waving at the gathered giants with a mix of fondness and regret. Kindness remained behind, sparing one more look towards her sisters, until she nodded to herself and leapt after the God of the Cold.
Chailiss said nothing as they entered into the forest the way the bird went. When the trees obscured the camp and any prying eyes, he at last turned to Kindness and bent down before her, resting a hand upon her shoulder. There was pain in his eyes. ”Your sisters are eager to prove themselves worthy. Do you feel the same?” he asked her.
“I wish to help our sister. If that means I must obey your commands, or… accept your task, then I shall do so. I wish to help you, not because of your divine nature and any obligation I may have to serve, but because I think… because you remind me of myself. I hate seeing the pain you are enduring because you have lost someone you love.” Kindness answered, and beneath the impassive mask and emotionless voice, there was an inner frantic fire that flailed with frustration and confusion. Her spiritual power was so much smaller, but the shape of her essence was the most similar to the Goddess of Honor compared to all of her sisters.
”Speak to me as if I were a friend, Kindness. It does not take divine eyes to see that something is troubling you.” Chailiss said in a quiet voice, searching her eyes.
“I am uncertain. Courage and Fear almost perished before, and now they eagerly depart again. Is this a cycle, and will I continually face this dread of wondering whether I will be returning home with them, or alone again? Our Maker said our work is indefinite, but I have no investment in this Sacred Path, and finding meaning. I just want to be happy… I want to rid myself of this pain.” Kindness brought both her hands together, palms pressed against one another and fingers upright. “Why do we have to become lost? I was happy before…”
”When one is lost, they have two choices. Give up or press on.” He gave her a slight squeeze. ”To give up is to succumb to every negative and be consumed by it. To press on is the hope we all cling to- That times will get better. Happiness is your beacon, Kindness, so cling to it, strive for it, fight for it. You will be happy again, you and all of your family. And know If I could take your pain from you I would, I would shoulder it so that you did not have to suffer but to do so I would strip you of a part of yourself that you must either come to terms with, or overcome. Your Maker’s sacred path is Idyllic but the laws of this system dictate otherwise but this does not mean it cannot be strived for. I have bickered about this with her every time we meet. I do not know if her system will work or not and I have said my peace on the subject. Kindness, if you do not wish to tread that path, then you must find your own. No one can give it to you but yourself.” He let go of her shoulder. ”To be worried is normal but do not let those thoughts dominate your mind. I would not let you face this alone or without aid, only you and your sisters can do the rest. Protect each other, and if it comes to it, fight together. Are you prepared to do what is necessary if you must?”
“I do not understand, what separates necessity from that which is not necessary? I will always protect and fight beside my sisters, if that is what you ask.” Kindness answered, as she tilted her head with confusion.
His face hardened. ”Kindness, are you prepared to take a life if it threatens you or your sisters?”
“You are asking if I would extinguish another inner fire to preserve the inner flames of my family. Why would you ask me such a question? I… I do not… no, I would be. I am prepared… but only if I cannot see another option. Does this answer suffice, your grace?” As she spoke, her hands fell to her side, and closed into fists. Her scarlet eyes hardened into stone, but was covered in subtle cracks; fragile despite its sturdy visage.
Chailiss smiled wearily and put out his thumb to rub Kindness’ cheek in reassurance. ”Be brave. I ask this question because not all life will care about your inner flames, Kindness. Nor would they have their own flames for you to take. Such creatures only prey upon others out of hate and misery but you will also find that beings with flames may try to harm you as well. This is what I fear most, sending you on a quest and putting you in such situations. I do not wish this upon you or your sisters but you must be made aware that it could be a possibility.”
“Thank you, for the warning. Thank you again for providing so much for my family. There were one million of us when we were all created, and now we are lost and divided… and there are less of us, but you have been very… kind to me and my kin. Thank you.” Kindness bowed, and arose, looking at Chailiss with conflicted eyes, paradoxically conveying both appreciation and resentment. The eyes of a child who is afraid of the dark, and an adult who is afraid of the light.
He pulled back his hand with a bit of hurt on his face before it became impassive. He gave her a nod and then from his hand there formed a long dagger of blue spectral make. He held it out to her. ”Do you know what this is and how to use it?”
She carefully examined the artifact, before gingerly grasping it. “It resembles the knife that the Master of the Hunter entrusted to Pride. My knowledge regarding knives is limited though. The sharp edge is used to cut… and it can be used to harm.” She observed, staring at the blade. Her gaze traveled up its length towards the point, and she blinked, as if suddenly struck by a realization. “It is a weapon, and I know how to use it.” Kindness answered.
The god nodded. ”A Blade of Mourning. Where your sister’s tools may affect a spirit, this will most certainly harm one. It is for you now, in case Zima is no longer herself.” He wrapped his hand around her own that held the dagger. ”Listen to me now.” there was a sense of urgency in his voice, ”It may not even work on her, for I fear what afflicts her will laugh in the face of a certain end. It may slow her down, it may immobilize her but only use it if all else fails and it comes down to a fight. Knowing Courage… I fear a confrontation will be inevitable. Prove me wrong Kindness. If not, watch each other's backs. Nisshiniek can possess cold elements and use them as vessels and they are durable. With your tools… Perhaps she will run. Do not pursue her unless doing so would be to prevent catastrophe. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
He let go of her and stood up. ”When this is over, Kindness, I will grant you a wish of whatever you desire. Who knows… Maybe you won’t find her at all by the time I am through with whatever I am about to find. Now I must go, before that bird gets too far ahead. Goodbye, daughter of honor. I wish you luck.”
“I wish you good luck as well, Lord of Winter.” She stepped back, and allowed the shadow of a smile to touch her lips, as she bid Chailiss farewell with another slight bow. Chailiss smiled, raising a hand in farewell and then became snow as a wind carried him away.
Left in the quiet grove, Kindness peered down at the weapon she held, before turning her attention back to the way she had come. With the weight of a choice soon to be made; an unseen burden upon her shoulders, she marched back to where her sisters waited for her. Emerging from the frosty foliage, her four sisters all waited within Skydancer.
“Hey Kindness, come on. Zima won’t find herself!” Courage called out, waving her large golden hand in the air.
Kindness approached the airborne vessel, but before she leapt aboard, she turned to the giants still present. “I apologize for my previous words. I did not mean to offend you, my brothers.” She said. The men, mostly busy with their new powers (and learning how to not freeze each other), turned to Kindness and raised their hands to her. Bodaway stepped forth and spoke, “All is forgiven. Please, take these gifts for your journey, perhaps they provide you with some semblance of comfort. Chesmo brought forth a simple brownish red pot, carried in one hand and draped over his other was a large fur blanket, black as midnight. Upon closer inspection, the small pot was full to the brim with shells and fancy rock. Chesmo held them out to the girls in the boat. “We wish you good luck finding the wayward daughter. Come and visit us again, we insist!” he smiled.
“Of course. Until we meet again then.” Kindness said before she jumped up and stood on the railing of Skydancer. “I look forward to it.” She added.
“We’re going to be better! We haven’t helped you really, not yet, but we will! If you find our sisters, tell them the sky dances. Oh, perfect Kindness, just what I needed.” Courage glanced at her sister carrying the knife, and swiftly took it from her grasp. With a blur of motion, the blade cut through the air where the brash champion pulled her long hair and held it, easily slicing through the long strands.
Returning the dagger to Kindness before she could react, Courage held out a large tuft of her scarlet tresses, offering them to the giants. “Here! A gift from the Heralds of Honor!”
Chesmo took them and held it up for all to see. The men whooped with joy, small icicles flying up into the sky. There was much laughter then as many began to wave goodbye.
Courage stepped back and moved towards the rudder, while Kindness and Fear offered more cheerful waves. Skydancer began to rise, and slowly the village of Childan became more distant. There was some relief in the hearts of the Holy Quintet, as they began their journey westward where they would begin their quest to seek out the missing Zima.
-In the Giantlands, on the shores where the Childan awoke, the Holy Quintet encounter a village of men that see them arrive. -The Holy Quintet was welcomed with open arms, but they learn of the many struggles and strife the Childan have endured since they had left them. -There is a feast, and stories are shared, Courage causes Curiosity to puke, and a tension grows between the Champions of Homura and the Childan. -Courage tries to make peace, hearing the wisdom the Childan have to offer, and then Chailiss arrives on the scene. -The God of the Cold bestows gifts upon the Holy Quintet, and proclaims the Second Sacred Law. He also requests assistance, asking the Champions of Homura to find his missing daughter. -The Holy Quintet accepts this divine quest, and after many fond and bittersweet farewells, the journey west begins.
Chailiss 8 Vigor
-1 to Enhance Fear’s ice hand. Can now summon and wield ice as weapons or tools.
-1(Reduced to 0 through cold) to Enhance the Golden Hand artifact with a gem of ice. This empowers the artifact with cold abilities.
-1 to Enhance the Shield of Faith. Where once it could protect only one mortal, the shield is now capable of protecting multiple at the same time. Can also expand into a tower shield.
-1 to Enhance the Staff of Seeing. The gem now set at the top of this staff empowers its abilities further. Works even better in the North.
-1 to create the Blade of Mourning. A long dagger (around a foot in length) of an icy spectral metal. It has the unique ability to strike spirits and harm them as well as being a functioning martial weapon.
-1 Blessing/Curse: To proclaim the second Sacred Law of the North, Do not force your will upon another mortal. Childan men can now wield a primitive form of cyromancy as long as they respect their law. Failure to do so will strip them of this power and turn their skin a sickly blue, desiccated like, as an indicator of their crimes.
Ending with 3 Vigor
Courage, Kindness, Fear, Curiosity, and Wanderer gain 4 Spirit. (+1 minimum, +1 Collab, +1 Medium, +1 Long)
Wind whipped through her as the chase led her on. Through the tall trees, cutting through rocky creek beds and down into wet gullies. The world never changed for Zima. It was all a haze and dreary but that didn't stop her from pursuing those pale humans. She had tried several times to call out to them but they never heeded her, much to Zima’s growing frustration. All she wanted to do was talk and figure out if they knew anything. They didn't have to run!
But it was becoming evident the smaller boy was getting tired. They had been running for a long time and Zima was always behind them. Now she was getting closer with every glimpse she got through the brush and trees. She could hear their voices, how the girl was pushing him on. How she was too weak to carry him for far. How he complained and cried. The girl always kept looking back and when she would spot Zima, she always pulled ahead, eyes blazing blue.
With one single yelp, the sound of crashing and frantic shouts- it was over. Zima hovered over a log and caught up to them. It seemed the boy had tripped over a root and slammed into a rock wall. He was either dying or out cold, either fate barely registering with Zima. The girl pulled at the boy, trying to wake him.
"Von. Von!" She spoke in an exotic tongue, one Zima had never heard before but could understand. "Wake up!" She shouted, frantic tears streaming down her face. When she caught sight of Zima, she took a defensive posture over the boy, shielding him from whatever perceived wrath she thought might come.
"Stay away!" She growled.
Where her feet touched mossy earth, all grew black and withered. This frightened the girl but Zima paid it no attention, if she even realized. She stepped forth and then stopped, hands at her side.
“If you had stopped and listened, he would not be in such a state.” Zima looked at the boy, his ragged breaths making his chest go up and down. “Regardless, I’m not going to hu-”
“No! No!” The girl screamed at her, eyes fierce as she tried to catch her breath. “I don’t believe you! You are a wakeful soul, this is not right. You are not right!”
Zima stayed her down, growing with that all too familiar feeling- Anger.
“Now listen he-” she tried to say.
“No! You will trick us! You will lie! Be gone!” She said with her own anger. Zima’s boiled all the same.
“Let. Me. Sp-”
“We are protected by the Maker! You cannot harm us! Be at peace elsewhere! Leave us al-” This time it was Zima who interrupted her.
“BE QUIET!” Her voice boomed, and the ground rumbled. From her feet came a wave of black fire that consumed the trees, plants, grass- even rocks to naught but ash in great jagged lines. The air grew still, now choked with black soot that landed upon that perfectly pale skin of the girl and boy, who had narrowly avoided a line. The girl stopped talking now, eyes wide before she began to quietly pray, holding the boy close.
ZIma huffed and once more looked at her grizzly work. Anger retreated to a bitter numb as she balled her shaking hands. "Look what you made me do." She said, eyes narrowing. "All I wanted to do was talk but you would not listen. And if you refuse me again, that will happen to Von." She pointed at the boy. The weight of her throat was heavy. Had she really just threatened an innocent child? Well, it wasn't like she was actually going to hurt him.
Right?
The girl, perhaps realizing her mistake before, relented and nodded her head.
Zima sat down amidst the withered ground and spoke. "What is your name?"
"Vare." The girl whispered.
"Vare. A pretty name for a pretty girl. How is it that you look this way? Who made you? Why are you here?" Zima twirled a bit of her own ghostly hair.
"Our Maker is Voi." The girl said with downcast eyes. "My people are the Voirans and we are here because we live here."
"Voi?" Zima asked herself. "I'm not familiar with that name, what does he look like?"
"He…" She began, "I don't know. Our parents say he spoke to them before they awoke. That he wore robes and had blue eyes like ours. That he protected souls." She squeaked out.
As the girl spoke, something clicked. She had met Voi, hadn't she? The Way Keeper or whatever his name was. The one who had let her go with Mish. The one who had cursed her to be whatever she was now. These were his people right before him. Dark thoughts flooded her mind, things she would never have even thought of before, less act on. But her hatred swelled and she spat on the name of vengeance proper.
Revenge was what she was after. If she was to suffer through all this anguish and sorrow, this lack of feeling, this- this thing she was now… Then she would make the ones he had created, feel as she did. Somewhere perhaps her mind recoiled at the mere suggestion of harming a soul but… She had already hurt a soul, hadn't she? Snuffed it out like a flame and she had felt nothing.
Zima faked a smile. "You spoke of your parents, where are they?"
"They're at the..." Vare's voice faded as she looked at Zima. Something came over the girl, she weighed her next words carefully as Zima watched a look of defiance spring up in her eyes.
"I'd rather not say." She said.
Zima nodded. "Of course, you don't have to answer. I'm sure your brother will help me all the same." Zima stated with confidence as she stood. Vare began to shake her head.
"No. You can't." She said, gripping her brother tighter. Zima pressed on. Vare begwn to stammer, "P-Please! T-There at the cave! The cave!" Vare was nearly over Von now, practically using her body as a shield.
Zima loomed above them. "I don't believe you." Her voice was like ice. "Pity."
"I won't let you take him!" Vare shouted up at her. Zima scoffed, then bent over and reached out for Vare. She tried to hide her arms from Zima but she was too fast. Grey fingers grabbed a fur sleeve and Vare began to panic as she watched the brown hairs turn black with wither. She fought back by using her other hand to punch Zima in the chest but her fist went right through Zima and she screamed out in pain as her fingers and hand blackened before she could pull it out. Zima grabbed her blackened wrist and only added to the decay as she tried to subdue her. When Vare could not fight back any longer, she began to struggle.
It was too late for her. Zima pulled the girl up and threw her off of the boy. She landed with a thud against the blackened ground and let out a pained groan. Satisfied with that, Zima turned her attention to the boy. His peaceful face reminded her of how she used to be- Innocent. But no longer. Zima grabbed the boy and began to shake him.
The furs she held began to wither, spreading like terrible vines across his chest. But he did not wake. She opened her mouth to speak but something tackled her from behind. She dropped Von and fell to the side of him. Vare was on top of her now, trying to bash her head in with a rock. It wasn't working of course, each frustrated yell and painful groan as her furs began to wither away made that clear. Zima could only lament the fact that if she had been able to become one with the rocks, she would have bashed Vare's own skull in.
Then the spirit had a wicked thought. If she couldn't possess the land, could she possess other things? As Vare's rock crumpled and she pushed herself off, Zima's form became a black smoke and she entered Vare.
His head was thundering, his lips were chapped and he needed a drink and when he opened his eyes he had no idea where he was. He blinked a few times, thinking as the memories came flooding back in. He had thrown rocks in the Sacred Lake, then Vare had stopped him saying it was disrespectful! Throwing rocks! What would Aeron think of that?
Then he… Then they saw those two eyes… Terrible eyes and Vare made him bow and then run and they were being chased and he was so tired and he tripped and and and… "Vare!" He shouted sitting up. His vision went a little hazy as he did, head still pounding. He looked around until he spotted a familiar shape. He half crawled, half ran as he found his sister. He listened for a breath and found it very shallow. She looked rough, her clothes looked singed and her right hand was blackened. Like some sort of terrible frostbite, the kind the elders warn about.
He shook her gently, "Vare. Vare! Please wake up, please!" He cried, an unfamiliar wetness streaming down his cheeks. This was all his fault, wasn't it? He fell backwards, clutching his head in between his knees.
What was he going to do? What would Aeron do? He had to go get help! He had to!
"Von…?" His sister's voice hit his ears. Von looked up and saw that Vare had sat up and was looking at him. "Where-" She began but Von cut her off by attacking her with a hug.
"You're alive!" He exclaimed. "I knew it!" She had barely returned the hug before he let go out of embarrassment. "What, uh, what happened Vare? Where did that evil spirit go?"
Vare's face grew distant and then puzzled. "I… I don't know. One minute we were fighting and then I prayed to Voi and it was gone. I blacked out after that." She looked around. "Do you know where we are? We should get back before our parents begin to worry."
"The maker helped us!" He whistled, a feeling of pride welling up inside. He also looked around and then nodded. "We aren't that far from the camp, maybe we'll reach it as the sun goes down? Come on sis, let's get you home. You're a hero! Just like Aeron!" He exclaimed, standing up. He felt a but woozy but stayed his ground. He was strong too!
"Yeah… Like Aeron." Vare agreed. She sounded sadder, perhaps that fight had taken more out of her then she let on? Von would do the brotherly thing, as much as he didn't want to. Probably. He took his sister's good hand and squeezed. She looked down and squeezed back with a small smile. Her touch was very cold but that was okay. It would warm up with time.
"Come on, let's get home." Von said as he led the way.
Zima finds the Voiran kids, a brother and sister and tries to talk after a long chase. The brother got knocked out by tripping and so Zima talks to Vare, the girl. She is less then forthcoming at first but after some coercion and threats, Zima finds out she is Voiran, made by Voi who she also realizes is the one who cursed her. She decides to get revenge on Voi by targeting his people. A fight ensures after Vare won't give up her people's location and she gets messed up by Zima’s withering. She really wants to protect Von, her brother but fails when Zima realizes she can possess living things now. The post ends in Von's pov, and he leads his heroic sister home none the wiser.
Zima = 19 +1 for post +1 for main char +1 for medium length
There was only sorrow. An endless amount of it. That was what Zima felt when her eyes opened and her senses returned. She gripped herself tight, a numbing cold running down her back. She looked up to judge what time of day it was. The world had gone dark but it wasn’t night. She could see the sun but its warmth and light eluded her. That sun, it looked wrong, like a foggy haze covered it and the sky. Or maybe that was just her vision? Zima rubbed her eyes and opened them again. She could still see of course but it was a different view then what she remembered and still like before, misty.
The spirit sat up with a single thought and took in her surroundings again just to be sure. She frowned, for her entire world was covered in a haze that muted once bright and vivid colors. Trees dripped with water, like looming giants waiting to see the light of day. The bank she sat on was damp and dark. Swirls of the spectral mist whipped and blew here and there. She felt as if that was just how it was now, a depressing sight. Why was that? Not really thinking, or thinking too much, Zima plunged her hand into the wet sand, eyes going wide as her fingers went in. In the past… She could not do that. She would have had to possess it with her strength, take control and use it as a body.
She removed her and looked out at the still and quiet lake. The gate, she found, was still there. Even covered in a haze it stood out to her like a beacon. She could see the Vahuras ferrying souls, like the squirrel that brought her and…
Mish-Cheechel.
Pain erupted in her mind as she re-lived her most recent memories and Zima grimaced. The tunnel run. Mish vanished into the air. She ran after him. She… She looked to her hands to find them very much see through and grey. She moved them in the air before her, a smoky black after-image trailed where her appendage went. Where once this would have distrubed her, she hardly felt a thing. In fact, the pain in her chest and head had quickly faded once her memory had been jogged.
She died again, hadn’t she?
But where was Mish? She looked around for him but she didn’t see anything or anyone. His curse meant he was alive somewhere, probably where the Green Murder killed them. She knew not where it was and didn’t really care. Mish had gotten her killed again. What had been the point of even trying to escape?
Well, she knew what to do. With or without him, she had said. It was time for peace.
She rose and walked upon the water towards the gate. Each footstep left a small ripple in the water that faded into the dark waters. Leaving Mish behind would be fine. It was a decision she did not have to wrack her mind against. This was final and it would be so. It would also serve him right for getting her killed again. In fact, this was a mercy on her part! She would save him from having to make the hard decision to use her as a weapon again. That earlier trial where he had confessed to her about his thoughts, rang true in her own mind and Zima grew angry.
Her hands balled into fists as her posture straightened. This was all his fault to begin with! She had been stupid to wantingly kill herself just so they could scratch a god. How insane was that?
Before long the apparition from the first time she had arrived, rose from the water and stopped right before her, breaking her train of thought. Zima relaxed a little as she stared at it.
“You may not pass.” It said suddenly, “You are not worthy.”
She froze. “What?” she asked in a voice with brimming emotion, taken aback. She blinked, and rubbed at her throat. Even her voice sounded different, almost lifeless and devoid of energy. “H-How am I not worthy?” She managed to say.
“Only the worthy dead my pass. You are neither dead nor worthy.” It crossed its arms, loose robes tattered and drifting far too slowly for it to be wind.
“What… What do you mean?” Zima asked, eyes growing wide, breath quickening. If she needed to breathe or not, it was lost upon her as her mind tried to wrap itself around what the apparition was telling her.
“You are not dead. How could you be worthy?” It stated as a matter of fact.
Zima blinked. She looked at the gate, then all the souls being brought to it. Giant squirrels, bats, owls, other creatures she could not name brought the shapes and forms of bjork, beast and other humanoid creatures. Some wept, some shouted, others were silent.
“I’m not alive.” She said, glaring back at the apparition. “I can see the gate. I can see those souls being ferried! Only the dead may do that.” She pointed at herself.
“They are worthy. You, on the other hand, are not alive. Nor are you dead. You are not worthy, Zima Zimmer. One who is cursed may not pass.” It began to pass beneath the waves, like before, saying one last thing. “You are barred from the underworl-”
Or at least it was going to, before Zima lurched forward and grabbed it by its ethereal garbs. Water rippled underneath her as her fists clenched the creature who made no sense. Though the figure had no face, she could feel its full gaze upon her. “Unhand me. Now.” It commanded.
Zima did no such thing. It was not an impulse that drove her to grab the figure, it had been something else more nefarious. She wanted answers and it didn’t get to leave without telling her what she wanted to know. A scowl formed on her face, born of hate.
“No. I won’t until you give me a better answer.” Her voice grew with anger and disbelief. “You aren’t making any sense. How can one not be alive and not be dead? I’m cursed? How? Why?” It said nothing to her, nor did she give it the opportunity to do so. “Tell me.” Her voice cut like a knife, growing distraught. “Why won’t you say anything? Just tell me! TELL ME!” She shouted at it and the figure began to squirm in her grasp, trying to break free.
A black, smoking flame quickly spread from her fingertips and across the figure’s robes. Where the fire consumed, its body wore away to nothing. It only gasped as she watched it become nothing within her grasp. Zima had never even let go.
Her hands shook as she looked at them. What had she just done? What had… She had just killed. She had just… Murdered. The thing that was Zima caught her reflection in the glassy waters below and she stared at the creature that looked back. Gaunt was her face, harrowed and tired. Her entire body was practically see through with swirling grey lines and black after-images. Her hair drifted in a breeze she could not feel. But it was her eyes she could not peer away from. Black pupils, surrounded by a deep crimson in a sea of grey. Where once they had been blue and friendly, now her eyes only reminded her of something darker and pervasive.
Zima recoiled and tried to change forms, tried to make the living nightmare end but it was no use. She had been attuned so strongly to the world and now her connection was gone. She could not change her form, she could not even use the waters as a shield to hide her visage.
Yet. It was not her image that frightened her, however. It was more so that she felt nothing for what she had just done to that apparition. A greater part of her was more annoyed at the fact she hadn’t gotten any answers to her current predicament. Another part only felt disgust at the act but even that was fading.
She clutched her fists again and strode forth towards the barrier with renewed focus. About halfway to it, she felt repulsed by some invisible shield. No matter how much she wanted to go on, the Gate never became closer. This didn’t work well with her, so Zima screamed with rage and battered her fists on the force that repelled her. Black flame leaked from her hands, dripping into the water and making it exhume a dark steam. It was odorless and Zima paid no attention to it as she pounded her fists against the unknown.
With a final strike, she was flung far back onto the water, sending violent waves as she sank beneath the waves. It was an odd sensation, for it felt as if she was falling through the water. It did not want to touch her and only then did Zima gain a semblance of control over herself. She landed on the murky bottom and stared up at the darkness.
What had she become? She clutched at her bare chest.
Something was missing… Try as she might to remember, she could not. What was it? What had it been? Where had it gone? Who took it? She was not the same as she was before. This was not a startling fact, for it felt as if it had always been so. But that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. She remembered everything before she rushed through the gate. How life had been, how she had acted, how she had felt.
But now?
They felt like the land around her, foggy. She grabbed her head and slammed a fist into her temple out of frustration. Gritting her teeth she let out an anger filled cry, muffled by the water. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t like this. What was she missing? What was-
A rock sank right beside her. Then another, a small ways off. Zima perked up and calmed herself just enough to stand upon the rocky bottom before she floated to the surface. Another rock came tumbling down as she neared the surface. There was some sort of muffled voices up on land.
She peaked her eyes up out of the water and saw a strange sight. There stood two figures. Both were breathtakingly pale with glowing blue eyes. The smaller one, a boy, with stark white hair, was being held back by the larger figure. One hand was over his mouth and the other was gripping his wrist, which held a rock. The larger figure was a girl, with wide blue eyes and long grey hair. They wore fur garments and then the boy, with his free hand pointed at her. The girl turned to look and froze. She blinked and her eyes stopped glowing, then the boy’s. IThey looked shocked to see her.
The girl gave a quick and hasty bow, before she began to pull away the boy with great haste. Enough that he dropped his last rock. Zima erupted from the water and landed upon the surface, sending waves. She shouted at them, “Wait! WAIT!” as she began to give chase but they didn’t stop, vanishing into the forest.
Zima reached the beach, her legs carried her with a speed she had never known on two legs. She could hover but could she even fly still? She shook her head, there would be time for that but not now. She didn’t know who they were but Zima was intrigued and there was nothing at the gate for her anymore.
She would have answers to her questions, no matter what it took.
Zima wakes up from her transformation and thinks herself dead again since she can see souls and what not. She looks around for Mish, blames him for her predicament and gives up. So she heads out over the water and is stopped by the ghost apparition again, who says she cannot pass for she is neither dead, worthy, or even alive for that matter. This doesn’t go over well with Zima and she accidentally murks the dude. She finds out she cannot even get close to the gate, for she is repulsed by an unseen force and so throws a tantrum and sinks to the bottom of the lake. A little later she sees that rocks are being thrown down and nearly hitting her at the bottom so she goes to investigate and finds two Voirans, a boy and a girl, who upon seeing two crimson eyes peering out from the water at them, dip real fast. So Zima gives chase.
Zima = 16 +1 for post +1 for main char +1 for medium length
LORD of the DEATH-ROAD | WATCHER | DEATHDART | SHEPHERD of SOULS | MASTER of the SCALES of JUSTICE SOVEREIGN of the AFTERWORLD | LORD of SOULS
&
Chailiss
Blinding Love
On the Eternal Field of Champions, beneath the Tree of Knowledge, in the tree-hollow leading to the Chamber of Weighing and Judgement, sat the creator and sustainer of all souls, the Lord of the Death-Road, and the Master of the Scales of Justice. Voi the Deathdart, face of darkness hidden beneath his hood and eyes of blue light gazing into distances beyond mere sight, neither sighed nor wept for Mish-Cheechel the Avenger or Zima the Zimmer. Though the likes of Mish-Cheechel were blinded by the likes of Phelenia to the true source of all mortal suffering, Voi was in no way blind. “This, too, will pass. That’s how it is.” The god murmured, looking away and rubbing a gloved hand across the inside of the hollow. When he next lifted his gaze, it was to find his long-awaited visitor approaching.
“You are not easy to find, Voi.” Chailiss spoke, as he flew across the expanse that separated them.
Voi stood as the other god approached. “And yet you have found me, brother.”
Chailiss wore the guise of his true form, but much smaller, before that too changed as he landed by the Tree of Knowledge. He took on the form of a man, cloaked in white with icy eyes. He approached Voi and stopped at a respectable distance, before bowing. “I apologize for coming unannounced, but I have need of you in this my troubling time.”
The Sovereign of the Afterworld approached the Warden of Winter and the world shifted momentarily. When it returned to normalcy, two cushioned curule chairs had appeared and Voi gestured for the other god to make himself comfortable. “Be seated, brother, and steel your kind young heart. Sorrows never come by their lonesome, but march in endless legions to strike the grieved heart low. That’s how it is. But whatever it is that troubles you, I will aid you in what way I can.” And so saying, Voi sat down and leaned forward, his blue pinpricks staring attentively at the winter god.
The winter god looked around after finding the world about them so subtly changed. His attention soon after fell back upon Voi and he sat down, leaning forward as well. He crossed his fingers together and laid his chin upon them as he spoke. “You are kind to a strange kinsgod of yours. It does me good to see that and I thank you for it. First I must ask you, what is this place we are in? Long did I travel in this underworld of yours, seeing and hearing many things but none of those places were quite like this.”
Voi looked around and then nodded. “It is true, this place is different. It is not a place of trial, like those that come before it, and it is not a place of judgement, like that which comes after it. This is the Field of Champions, where the weapons of the worthy are laid down after a long journey, and where preparations for judgement are made. Mortalkind has yet to learn, however, and so none have yet passed through here on their way - save two, but that is quite another matter.” He turned his gaze on the enormous tree. “And this is the Tree of Knowledge. Questions come here for an answer.” The god turned his face back to Chailiss. “I never thought that even divine questions would be answered here, but here we are.”
Chailiss raised an eyebrow. “Then I am the first of our kind to be here?”
“That you are,” Voi affirmed, “although there was one divine interloper some time back. He came by a rather unconventional back route of sorts, which I have not been able to replicate. You are the first here though, yes. You honour me.”
“Honor…” Chailiss frowned slightly at the word before moving on. “And I am honored to be had. Though, I suppose what you say isn’t too surprising. Only few care for what happens when the living die. Others do not, or are obsessed with stopping it completely. Others… they would seek the doom of everything. Do you know who the interloper was?”
Voi was quiet for a thoughtful moment. “I… do know, yes. He is the one known to bjorkkind as the Singing Maker; our drunken brother, Jiugui. Why do you ask?”
“Simple curiosity I suppose.” Chailiss gave a small smile.
Voi chuckled. “I can appreciate that. I too am rather the curious sort. Our brother Jiugui is… quite entertaining.”
“I know nothing of him besides his name and the impression he left upon the bjork. A drunken god… who would have thought?” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “You did say two others, mortals, had visited this place? Who were they, might I ask?”
“There is no need to hide it, I suppose.” Voi enunciated slowly. “They came together, and tried to leave together too, but…” he did not quite sigh, but rather simply paused. “It was Mish-Cheechel, the manbjork whose people you buried sometime back,” the god did not bother to explain how he knew this, but continued, “alongside one of yours, going by the name of Zima.”
The other god’s eyes lit up and he sat straight. “Zima? Zima is the name she chose for herself? Zima…” he smiled. “It is a good name, I am glad to hear it.” But his smile faltered and with a sigh he looked to Voi once more, “What happened, Voi? Where is she?”
“Mish-Cheechel happened, brother. She stood right here,” he gestured to a spot right before the tree hollow, “one step away from the promise of eternal bliss.” He leaned forward. “She could have been happy. That’s what she wanted, she said as much. But…” he sat back, “she thought to go try find happiness with Mish-Cheechel - and Mish-Cheechel is many things, but happy he will never be and happiness he’ll never bring.” He looked down. “I guess love blinds us to what stands in plain sight. That’s how it is.” The blue pinpricks beneath his hood flickered momentarily, but then returned. “So they took the path back to life together - and I told them that way lies pain, but they did not heed me. I told them that they had chosen to go together and had best keep to that, else their pain would blossom into true suffering. That’s how it happened. They did not keep together brother, what am I to do? Go look at them now.”
Chailiss stood, fists balled. A cold mask spread out over his face. “What has befallen my daughter, Voi? What has this Mish-Cheechel brought upon her? Why would she listen to him? Why?” He sighed, utterly defeated, and sank back into his chair. “No. You are right. Love does blind us all. It would blind me to rage but my heart cannot take more violence against any for a long time, if ever.” He leaned forward, grief splayed out on his face now. “Please Voi, please tell me. What has become of my daughter? What have you done to her? Please.”
“Not I, Chailiss, not I. They did this to themselves. Don’t seek her out, it will only mount pain on your pain. If in time she can overcome her suffering, she will find you. Of that I have no doubt.” He slid from the chair and bent on one knee before the other god. “Don’t ask me again, because I will not withhold it from you. Just know that if you do, the answer will do nothing but inflame your pain. There is no need, trust me on this.”
The other god’s eyes became downcast as he gave Voi a small nod. “Apologies for assuming… I do trust you, Voi. But I do not have the luxury of being oblivious to the plight and pain of one so dear to me. As her cre- Father. Love, after all…” he gave a weary smile, “so tell me, please.”
The Lord of Souls rose and returned to his seat, head bent pensively. “Your daughter has become something neither completely living nor entirely dead, cast from the underworld to wander the material plane. I can’t say if she knows who or what she is anymore, or whether she can even feel. Where she goes, no good feelings remain and all is suffering and discord. She is suffering and discord. That’s how it is, brother - I told them, ‘do not go there, do not walk there, there is only pain there,’ but they did not heed me. That’s how it is; that’s how it will be until she awakens to the truth of suffering. None can save her but herself, no one can and no one may; she herself must walk the way.”
The god brought a hand to his face and said nothing for several minutes… until at last he rose from his feet. His eyes were raw. He had never looked so haggard as he was now, and sorrow was his expression. “Thank you for telling me. Even if she can’t be helped by another, it is my duty to at least ensure she cannot harm others. I must go now, before it is too late. Your hospitality, despite the heavy news, was a pleasure, Voi.” He began to leave but stopped. “Homura will seek you out soon. She wanted Zima as a witness to stand trial for attempted murder, to be reprimanded. I don't think she’ll get that wish but I thought you should know to expect another.”
Voi did not say anything for a few moments, but then nodded slightly to Chailiss. “I will expect her.” As Chailiss began to walk away, Voi spoke up again. “Though, brother, there are surely many witnesses. What crime is this?”
He turned to Voi. “Phelenia will be called to answer for her needless murder against the bjork. I’m sure you will be of most help to Homura when she comes asking for witnesses.”
Voi’s blue eyes flickered. “Hmm, odd indeed. What need is there for witnesses when the perpetrator has not denied the deed? Because that’s how it is. Perhaps..,” he glanced up at Chailiss, “well, it would be cynical to say it, but maybe there is another matter she seeks me for, which she has withheld from you. I will expect her in any case.”
“I am sure Homura can fill you in on all she needs. Her mind is alien to me.” Chailiss continued on his walk and Voi walked after him.
“I’ll walk with you a while. You seemed rather a little… off when I mentioned honour earlier. Is there something you hold against Homura?” He glanced at Chailiss with twinkling eyes, “other than what is known, of course.”
“That goddess thinks that everything is a perversion of what it should be. That nature is an abomination that cannibalized upon itself, that death has no place in the cycle. That all of the mortals should be kept upon her sacred path. I can make no sense of it no matter how many times I listen. She has offered me the chance to kill her upon every occasion we have met if I thought she would fall down a darker path. The most frightening thing about it is that she is serious.”
Voi glanced at his brother as they walked. “If Homura is anything, she is passionate. When first we met she created her spear - Daybreaker she called it - and pointed it at me, pressed it right here,” he tapped his chest, “things could have gone rather awry if I were the angry sort.” He paused thoughtfully. “She spoke to me of war then, asked me what I would do when war came. I guess that says something about her - always looking ahead, always preparing for the worst. Always seeing the worst. You need gods like that, they’re the ones who come through when everything goes wrong. That’s how it is. It might mean she misspeaks sometimes - what, with her eyes so fixed on distant disasters - but it should not be held against her. She just cares very deeply. That’s how it is, brother.” The god looked heavenward. “I doubt she meant what you think she did about death. She knows the importance of balance to me, the importance of life and death to me - to all things. She is passionate, that’s all.” After a few seconds, he looked at the other god with twinkling eyes. “Did you see how she dances? It is beyond beautiful.”
“You speak highly of her. I cannot say I have seen her dance. Perhaps you could ask to dance with her when she comes? Might do her good to take her mind off things for a time.” Chailiss mused, causing Voi to chuckle awkwardly. “But regardless, I am sure you will find out exactly what she means and what she doesn’t mean when she seeks you out. Passionate or not, maybe if it comes to it, you can reason with her where others have failed.” Chailiss looked straight ahead as he spoke, arms at his side in a slow pace.
“W-well.” The Lord of Souls mumbled. “I’ll do what I can. She’s not bad. And you’re not either.” He fiddled with his grey gloves. “Do you think-” he stopped himself. “Ah, no, that’s stupid.” He cleared his throat. “But speaking of dancing, it appears that a certain other dancer has managed to find her way north, and is not in a good way at all. Our sister Rosalind even now bleeds her life out in your domains. You should see to her.”
Chailiss stopped in his tracks and peered down at Voi out of the corner of his eye. “Why is it that such sorrow strikes my heartland?” He then fully turned to Voi. “How are you certain of this?”
Voi glanced at Chailiss then shrugged slightly. “There were witnesses, and word reached me. Now I don’t know if a god can bleed to death, but she will be finding out if something is not done soon. That’s how it is.”
“A few of our kin have already passed… But Zima…” His eyes became downcast as he wrestled with the decision. “You said Zima would wander… Then I hope I will be able to find her before she does something terrible. Now,” he placed a hand on Voi’s shoulder, “where is Rosalind?”
Voi raised his gloved hand and snapped his fingers, causing a gyrating wisp to form up before them, which slowly took on the shape of a small bird of swirling blue flame. “My little friend here will show you to her.” The blue bird hovered in the air before them, then beat its ethereal wings of flame and shot off. “Godspeed, Chailiss.”
He looked to the bird, then to Voi. “Thank you, may we meet again on happier tides.” He let go of the god and began to shift into his divine form, becoming snow, but his voice echoed ever on to his fellow god, “you know more than most that life is fleeting. Ask her to a dance,” before the snowflakes became a distant orb and the god of cold was gone.
The Lord of Souls watched his brother leave with eyes of widened blue, then chuckled and shook his head. “Clever snowman.”
-Chailiss arrives in the Field of Champions and visits with Voi. The two gods discuss many things and questions are answered. -Eventually their talk arrives upon Zima and Mish and after some prodding and reassurances, Voi tells them the fate of his daughter. This devastates Chailiss and he makes a move to go after her and at least contain her. -Voi travels with him for a time and they talk of Homura, the need for witnesses and love. Voi eventually tells Chailiss that Rosalind is bleeding out in his own realm. Coupled with a dire choice, Chailiss decides to go bring aid to Rosa, noting that Zima will have to be by herself for a time. -Chailiss leaves Voi on good terms and tells the Soul God to ask Homura for a dance when she arrives to visit him.
Chailiss
1 (gains +1 for Yolly week) None spent
=2 vigor
Voi 3 Vigour
--Create the Eternal Field of Champions - A great field of grass, earth, and knolls, at the centre of which stands the enormous Tree of Knowledge. All souls who are armed with weapons and armours to protect them along the Death-Road and through the Trials ultimately end up here. This is the place they shed all their equipment and magics so as to move on to the final judgement in the Chamber of Judgement and Weighing. These weapons and armours can be found littered across the Fields, and any living person mad enough to brave the underworld may be able to find their way here and claim a mighty prize. This is a permanent divine quest that any living non-divine can take. --Create the Tree of Knowledge - A tree of enormous size in which is an equally great hollow. Anyone who wishes to pose a question to the Lord of Souls, or is after some form of knowledge that has evaded them in the world of the living, can come here in pursuit of it. Those who complete the divine quest to reach the Eternal Field may opt for a philosophy or certain technology as a prize, as opposed to arms and armour from the Fields.
“Didn’t I tell you to go home?” Mish-Cheechel asked. He was standing above her shattered and frozen form, the Green Murder’s own body some feet away. The trees loomed all around and his coal-black eyes were hard. “Didn’t I tell you not to follow me?”
“W-What?” Confusion rippled with Zima’s voice. “Mish? But you were…” What was going on? “I… I had to follow you. You are my friend and I promised I wouldn’t let you go alone.”
“Yes. But I told you to stay where you were; I told you to go home. Friends listen. You didn’t, and now… look at you.” He gestured to her shattered form, sorrow and fury etched on his face. “Didn’t you pause to think before rushing in?”
“I… I didn’t.” Her voice grew soft. “I saw you in danger… Gesturing for me… So I did and I died.”
The manbjork bent low and leaned over, gazing into the fractured remains of her eyes, stroking what passed for a kit’s lips. “And if you had stayed away, like I said, like I insisted, like I ordered you when I was lucid, would you have been there to see the gesturing of a madbjork?” His eyes shimmered and there was almost a single tear in one of his eyes, but he looked to the side and blinked it away. “You… you acted selfishly, Zim. If you had any regard for me you would have listened.”
“I acted selfishly?” She asked him, voice growing with anger. “Don’t push your guilt onto me! Don’t blame me for what I did! I am not some thing to be ordered around, Mish-Cheechel. It was my choice to follow after you and my choice to jump into that burning spear. I HAD TO! For- For BEAR! Or did you forget him when you tried to kill that stupid god?” When her tirade finished, Zima was appalled. Where did those words come from?
The manbjork’s jaw hardened at her words and he scowled down at her, though the hurt could hardly be masked from his eyes. “Here is a simple truth: Bear was a wild creature. Without that saddle, he would have mauled us. Did I care for him? A bit. Did I care for him as much as I care for you? No. But that bear taught me something. It taught me that you can die. It taught me that you are not built for the warpath. And it taught me that I would offer you up in sacrifice for the sake of vengeance.” His face contorted with guilt and anger. “And I told you to stay away. I told you Zima. And here you are! Dead; shattered; broken! You should have listened to me. Better yet, you should have felt for me. But you were so holed up in your own head that you just couldn’t could you?” He rose swiftly and kicked a block of ice into the dark depths of the forest, fists clenched and shoulders trembling.
“I… You… Sacrifice?” She stumbled over the words, wrapping his words around her mind. His words cut something deep inside of her that threatened to overwhelm her in the same sadness she felt, she still felt, for Bear’s death. Her voice filled with emotion. “I have felt… Every bit of your pain. Every brush with death, from the moment we met and fought over Zabitsyn.” Though she could not feel it, she knew somehow, she was crying. “Hidden behind that mask of hate and fire, behind those brooding eyes; it’s just pain and the fear of feeling nothing. I thought that perhaps you would learn to smile and laugh again with me at your side. You cared for me and for that I am thankful. Did I make mistakes along the way? Yes… And I’m sorry for making you feel this way over my decision. We were two souls who only thought in the moment. But please, do not believe for one moment that I never felt for you. I have and always will.”
The manbjork did not turn, but his fists unclenched and shoulders relaxed. “So if you understood… if you felt for me, as you say… why did you not stay away?” He turned back to her. “Why did you help pull this monster growing in me from the womb? Why did you let me kill you?”
“Mish… My mind at the time was not thinking straight. I was so sad, perhaps I still am, where nothing at all felt the same. Like a dark hungry void saps all the joy away. Your words… I did not hear them as I should have. So when I came upon you in this clearing, my mind went to but one thing- Protect. That was what pap- father made us Nisshi for, after all.” She took a deep breath. “I died… Mish… Because I love you. Because even when all seemed lost, I could at least try to keep you from harm. I realize now that I failed you. But this isn’t you… Not really.” She sighed. “The apparition said… only one. But if this is how he feels… I’m so sorry.”
The manbjork bent down and started gathering up her shattered pieces. Slowly her face - now kit-like, now otterlike, now not so unlike Homura - took shape, then the rest of her. As he brought her back together, the ice melted back into one and before long the nisshi lay whole before him. Quietly, Mish-Cheechel looked at her. He did not smile, but there was sombre thoughtfulness there. At last, though, he sighed and placed a hand on Zima’s head and spoke. “You’re good, kit, you’re good.”
And he faded; the forest faded; the Green Murder’s form faded. All faded but Zima.
She blinked and when her eyes opened she was somewhere else entirely. There was a stony path with a faint white glow coming from somewhere down it. Lining the path were trees and above them were an uncountable number of stars in the dark. She gasped loudly and was met with a laugh.
Startled, she looked towards the source and found herself looking up at a very tall being. Her skin was tan, darker in the night sky, while her long hair was auburn with a glint of fire. She had a kind face to her, so unlike anything Zima had seen before.
“I was just like you, when I saw the heavens. It was so beautiful.” Her smile was warm and Zima felt at ease in her presence.
“Is this… Another trial?” Zima squeaked out.
The woman shook her head. “No, this is a place for rest after the trial is done. My name is Lansa and I was the first to come here. You are the second.”
“Lansa?” Zima said aloud, “I am Zima… the Zimmer. Why are you so tall?”
The woman chuckled. “Hello Zima, it is nice to meet you. As for your question, I am tall because the Spirit Father made us this way.”
“The Spirit Father?” She asked, floating around Lansa and taking her in. She wore a funny thing, like a skin over her skin. Was it fur?
“Yes, the Spirit Father. The Guiding Spirit? Lord of Winter?”
“You mean papa?” Zima asked with sudden excitement as she zipped in front of her face.
“Papa…? Are you… one of his daughters, Zima?” Lansa asked.
“Yes! Pa- Father made me, a Nisshi, with a lot of others. He made me aware and I have been living ever since. Well, not anymore I suppose. I died.”
“I died too.” Lansa confided. “How did you meet your end, Zima?”
“I… tried to protect my friend. We both paid the price though. He said he would wait for me on the other side of the gate. Whenever and wherever it leads. How did you meet your end, Lansa?”
The woman’s eyes grew sad. “Death came to me in the guise of jealousy. I’ll spare you the details but here I am.”
“I’m sorry, Lansa.” Zima said with a pang of sadness. She knew what it felt like to die. There was no need to pry for answers. Still, she did need to know one thing. “Why don’t you move on to the next gate, Lansa?”
The taller woman looked down the path and smirked. “The first trial was hard enough. I might stay here for a time, see if I meet any others. I had some regrets in life, I need to know if I might ever get them resolved. Just to see. Don’t let me stop you though. I’ll be alright. There are plenty of stars to look at.”
The sounds of birds chirping and running water came first to her ears and as she opened her eyes she was welcomed to the sight of a glade. Flowers of purple, yellow and red dotted the ground, with a few bushes of berries. The buzzing of bees was what she noticed next, large and bulbous without a care in the world. Zima smiled at that. There was a pond with lily pads and cattails too, fed by a meandering brook that cut the glade in half. The smells here were fragrant and floral, of honey and fresh air. It was beautiful.
Still, she looked past what was before her and found that she was surrounded by pine trees as tall as her eyes could see. They were so dense and packed she could see nothing beyond them except for the brook that lazily winded down and cut into the forest right next to the…
Gate.
She had almost forgotten the apparition’s words. There could be many or none. It seemed her trial was not yet over. She began to walk through the tickling grass, past the small pond, by the brook and flowers. A reflection in the still waters caught her attention and she looked with a gasp. Staring back was not who she expected to be staring back up at her. It was her… but different. She touched her pale, almost translucent skin upon her new face. She pinched her cheeks and felt them. All the while, icy blue eyes watched what was going on in a mix of awe and fear. Why did she look like.. or sort of like Lansa? Her hair, a translucent silver, was long and curly. Her arms were skinny, and she wore fur- no, clothes (as Lansa had called them). It was a silly thing that covered her small chest and ran down past her knees. Very lightweight, she lifted it up to see an undergarment of a simple white cloth before letting the cloth go. It was very airy, not at all tight like fur, she imagined at least.
Well, odd as it was, she found herself admiring her new form with her small button nose and round eyes. She flashed a smile and saw pearly whites. She giggled. But this new form in no way impeded her journey towards the gate, so as fun as it was to stop and stare, she continued on. Or at least she started until… She felt a tug on her new clothes.
She looked down behind her and gasped.
It was a bjork kit. The bjork kit. Zabitsyn son of Mish-Cheechel!
He laughed, “Nisshi! Want to play a game?”
She blinked. “Z-Zabitsyn?”
“That’s me!” He proclaimed with a beaming smile.
“Oh Zabitsyn!” Zima cried, falling to her knees and hugging the small kit. He returned the hug, burying his face into her chest. She coddled and wept as she held the kit. It had been so long and his life had ended so tragically. Yet he was here now and Zima found herself happy. She hadn’t felt happy since… Bear. But the question still nibbled at her mind.
“I wanted so much to hug you and the others. But then you n-never came and I…” She cut herself off and wiped her tears away before, briefly pulling away, and rubbing her hands across his cheeks. “How are you here now? Where is this place?” She asked him.
The bjork kit giggled. “I don’t know! But it’s nice! Just like when we played at the creek!”
“Those were happy days, weren’t they?” She said with a lax smile. She looked around again, holding the kit tight to her. Her gaze fell upon the gate and her jumbled thoughts pointed her in that direction.
But…
“Why don’t we play a game Zima?” he asked in a small, excitable voice. Zima looked back down at him and smiled.
“I would love nothing else.” She replied. What was one game before moving on?
Zabitsyn squirmed his way out of her arms, and began to run back up towards the pond. “Bet you can’t catch me!”
Zima smiled and then laughed, “Oh I bet I can!”
So the two friends, once apart, played games in the sun of the glade. They chased each other in games of tag, they would see who could jump the farthest into the pond, who could hold their breath longest under the water, who could swim fastest and who could make the largest splash. All the while they laughed and Zima felt content and happy. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed the interactions with the kits. It was a simple time and the memories were only of mirth.
The young kit was a master of figuring out games to play, he could always come up with a new one after he or Zima won the previous one. There was never a dull moment and on the rare occasion they took a break, Zima would hug and hold him. They would talk of those days past and what it meant to them but… That was about it. There was never any talk of the future or the present besides, ‘do you want to play another game?’ and Zima began to wonder when the trial would start. Surely it would be soon? But the gate… her eyes were beginning to wander to it more and more.
It was still open.
“Zabitsyn?” She asked once. “I think I need to go soon. The gate…”
“No!” The bjork kit shuffled onto his tiny feet and looked up at her. “Please don’t go, Zima.” He grabbed her hand with his two small paws and a pang of guilt wrenched at her heart. “Please stay for another game.” Tears welled in his eyes.
How could she refuse?
Zima was beginning to lose track of time. How long had she been here? How many games had they played? How many times had they talked of the past? It all blurred into one, like she was in a never ending loop of fun and happiness. She loved it of course, but she had a nagging feeling. Her purpose was to complete the trials and meet Mish-Cheechel on the other side, right? Then why was it so hard to do that?
She knew she had to go but each and every time she said goodbye, Zabitsyn would disagree. He would become sad and distraught at the sight of his friend wanting to leave. It broke her heart each and every time, how he guilted her into staying for just one more game.
As time passed and the cycle continued, Zima began to realize- or perhaps she always knew- what the trial actually was. She had to leave. No matter what. Despite the pain it would bring.
Upon their final game, seeing who could collect the most blades of grass, Zima let Zabitsyn win. As the small kit whooped and hollered, Zima slowed down and looked to the gate, dropping all her blades.
It was time.
She walked before him and knelt down, wrapping him in a hug. “Zabitsyn. I… Had a lot of fun here.” She smiled, “But I have to go now. Your father is waiting for me, I can’t keep him waiting forever. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you died. I wish I could have protected you.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead and pulled away.
The bjork kit began to cry. “P-Please don’t go Zima! Please! I’ll be all alone again! Just one more game, please? One more?” He cried, pulling on her hand.
Zima looked past him and to the gate. Her own face felt wet and she took a deep, ragged breath. She wiped his tears away and with a smile, nodded. “Let’s race to the trees, alright? First one there wins.” She pointed him in the opposite direction of the gate.
Zabitsyn grew excited, his tears turning to laughs and giggles. “Okay! I’ll win for sure!”
“I bet you will.” Zima lied, lining herself up with him. “Are you ready? Okay… Go!”
Zima watched Zabitsyn begin to run. She took off in the opposite direction, towards the gate. With tears streaming down her face, she began to cry.
“Hey! Wait!” Zabitsyn called after her. “W-Wait! Zima! Don’t leave! Don’t leave me like my papa did!” He screamed after her. She felt her heart break with each step until she was at the gate.
She didn’t look back, despite the pain, as she hurtled through.
Zima found herself running through dark trees, the bright moon providing the only light that filtered through the treetops. She slowed down, trying to catch her breath. This place had a completely different feel than the trial with Zabitsyn. It was dark, almost suffocating and so quiet. There was not a sound to be heard, just her own breath and the beating of her soul.
Every direction she looked was the same. Or it at least looked that way. There were trees, bushes and the earthy smell of decay. But no landmarks to identify, no direction that felt like the right way. She was just alone in the woods. It was dark but at least it wasn’t cold. What was this trial? What was she meant to do?
Zima grit her teeth and steeled herself. Then she took a step ahead, not knowing where it would take her. But at least it was a direction.
Except, she fell. For her direction had been a cliff. An eerily similar cliff, one etched into her memory, one that she could not escape from. She only began to scream when the rock below came to meet her.
She expected doom but her eyes had been closed and no pain wiped her away. So she opened them and that was when the nightmare began.
She was back in her old form, wispy and shaking as she looked up at the demon bearing down upon her. Its flesh oozed black and it laughed - a terrible noise to her ears. She panicked, fell backwards and began to back up as it approached with raking claws and broken bones.
“N-no no no n-no!” She stammered, eyes wide with horror. It crawled towards her, crushing the bones and bodies of all the dead bjork kits from the massacre. The ground became a pool of wet, sickly blood, iron-tinged and smelling of death. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came. She froze when her form touched wet, matted fur. She shook with so much terror in her heart but looked anyway.
It was Mish-Cheechel. His throat had been cut and he looked at her with cold, lifeless eyes. His spear was in his hand.
“M-M-Mish!” She cried out. “Wake up!” She pushed him as the demon’s laugh came closer and closer. “S-Save me! Please!” She wailed but it was pointless. Mish was dead and the terror was almost upon her. She turned back to the creature and froze.
It was Bear.
For a split second at least. Before his flesh and fur were ripped apart as the demon took root. His bones broke with sickening cracks, his head twisted and shook with such violence that she thought it might explode. His glassy dark orbs became fueled by a green flame of malice. Horns sprouted from his head in a vicious mockery of a crown. Limbs elongated and claws grew long and sharp. His mouth opened far too wide, wide enough to devour her whole as it laughed.
Zima grabbed her head and closed her eyes as tight as she could. This was too much for her. It was too much. She could not move, she was frozen with fear. Bear was her friend. She could not harm Bear. Even as the raking and the clawing got closer with each bloody stomp. Mish had saved her before, Mish would do so again.
Right?
He had to!
She couldn’t do this by herself, she couldn’t- she couldn’t! Bear had died because of her. Because she was too weak. She hadn’t been able to save Zabitsyn or the other kits. She hadn’t been able to save any of the bjorks. She failed. She was a failure and she was going to die all over again.
It was only right.
Except, deep down inside her, something screamed to stand. To fight back. It was drowning in a sea of dread but it was there. She just had to reach out for it, pull it to shore. Save herself from a certain defeat. Could she do it? Was death not her punishment for failing them all so horrifically? The feeling grew. She opened her eyes, and everything seemed to slow down. The demon with its corruption was nearly upon her. Bear was gone, she told herself. So was Mish.
No one was coming to save her.
No one… but herself. And even as she thought it, a feminine voice echoed all around and in the depths of her mind. It whispered softly to her, with such calm as brought serenity wheresoever the voice radiated. “No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the way.”
It welled up inside her now, banishing the dread just enough for her to take a stand. So she did with a ferocious, primal shout. Zima grabbed Mish-Cheechel’s spear, stood up in swift - serene! - motion, and drove it deep into the demon’s skull.
A white light erupted forth and suddenly Zima found herself standing before a great swirling gate that seemed to gyre endlessly and endlessly motion. It was over…
So she walked through.
-We follow Zima through her trials, first going through Chailiss’ which covers the virtue of empathy. In it she is the shattered spear and Mish is there, they are back at the clearing and the Green Murder is dead. Mish is upset at her for not listening and this devolves into a fight before Zima realizes she was not understanding of his feelings and passes the trial. -Before she reaches the next gate the scene shifts to a winding road underneath a beautiful starry sky. She meets a familiar face there and stays for a time. - Next we find her in Zenia’s trial, where she stays with Mish’s son in endless games and happiness for literal centuries. (Or as it feels like, as she is unable to move on). She notices that her form has changed to reflect the person she met in the previous trial with noticeable differences. (She looks like a spirit ghost girl). Eventually Zima grows weary of her time playing games and realizes she needs to move on. After a very painful trick, she leaves a crying bjork kit behind. -Her final trial is a test of Courage, Rosa’s gate. She faces the Wehniek once more in twisting horror. She is all alone, Mish is dead and Bear is the Wehniek. Zima almost fails this trial but is encouraged by a woman’s voice after figuring out she has to save herself. She passes her final trial and steps through the last gate.
Zima = 3
+1 for post +1 for main character +1 for collab +1 for medium length +1 for extra length
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