The dark sky rumbled on that black night. A sweltering, suffocating air that hovered in one place. Lightning flashed, illuminating the world for a few precious moments at a time. It was not yet raining but the air smelt of it. The storm would simply swallow up the stars and navigation would have to wait.
At least for those on the ground.
So it was that a group of beastfolk were fleeing north. Away from the great calamity of their time. Yet even those with the keenest of night vision could hardly see once the storm caught up with them. Children whined, cooed by parents to be quiet. Others whispered, talking of the end times. That the Gods had abandoned them. That the fates had been cruel indeed to leave them so alone.
They huddled down next to an outcropping of rock, sheltered on one side from the rain that poured down in great thick droplets. The elders recounted a time when the rain was that of blood and spoke cryptically of those who still dwelt in those forsaken lands. The children, after some time, were able to sleep, nestled close to parents and warm bodies. Even some of the reptilian folk were allowed to pile up next to those mammals that allowed it. For one of the few tenets of that band was to look out for one another. No one would be left out, no one would be forgotten.
Because of that, they were far behind those that had left with quicker feet and hurried wings. Perhaps it was a shared sense of duty, a beastfolk sense of pride and the inner flame that commanded them all. Hope would keep them going, it had too. So they endured and they would go on despite it all.
So it came as little surprise when the sentries raised the alarm and an orderly panic overcame them. A raiding party had come after them. Otherworldly beings who sought only to kill and glut themselves. Daggers of stone and copper unsheathed in the night as the warriors hurried everyone along.
The night air began to unleash a drizzle of cold rain as the lightning flashed. Then came a scream but not from behind. Thick bowed bovine and lion men ran for the front only to find certain doom awaiting them.
They had never seen a creature like it but they knew it all too well. The legends had gone far and wide. Lightning illuminated its wild eyes, a mouth of sharp teeth, a few missing, while its elongated body ran with a silver streak along its back. A mongoose of living legend. He stood in the path, blocking their advance. Children cowered, women and men shielded them as the Maw watched with careful eyes.
Elders came forth but before any could speak the Maw proclaimed, “You… Hunted… All sides but… Mine.” He padded a few steps closer. “Go… Run… I will… Buy time for… Small kin.”
Thunder rumbled overhead as the rain continued pouring down. No one moved, they did not understand. Then the Maw snapped forth his teeth and growled low, “GO!” he said, and jumped over the first few to where the sounds of battle rushed forth.
On that night of flashing lights, a new legend was born, not of a killer who took the chance to prey upon those already being preyed upon- but of one who cast aside all differences to protect. The Maw Who Slew in Salvation, perhaps not entirely redeemed but for one fleeting moment in such a long life, did something that any could deem as good.
So that beastfolk clan lived to survive another day and the Maw, without having even been asked why or thanked, was not heard from again by those people. Perhaps it was better that way.
A beastfolk clan are fleeing north but they are slow. A warband of demonic invaders nearly catches up to them but they are saved by the most unlikely of sources- The Maw, who’s fate is not known.
The first incursion began the following week, as scores of refugees, holdouts and terrified mortals were entering the city. The speed at which the beasts came upon them was frightening. Small bands ripping and tearing apart the land. It took a band of mortals led by Hollis, with bows, arrows and swords to deal with the threat and even then many were lost. Sylia herself was concerned, having not realized just how voracious the enemy would be at the chance of mortal flesh. She had suspected it would take weeks to shirk the great inland sea, pillaging and ravaging as they went. It may have even taken months before any might have arrived. But now she knew they were not so mindless.
They were targeting Sylann and the surrounding area. It would only be a matter of time before a horde or even any army arrived at her doorstep. Sylia would be damned if she let them do as they pleased.
So whilst Galaxor dealt with one of the beasts, she could only hope that her fellow kin would deal with the other and even so, that a few would start mopping up and dealing with the source of this mess. Meanwhile, she would protect those the mortals in her charge and those who thought themselves independent of any aid.
As the gates shut and walls took to siege, the mortals in Sylann began enforcing the croplands and the waterways. The city was nigh impenetrable thanks to the walls but one could never be too careful. Another problem quickly became apparent- there simply were not enough able bodies to man every post, defend the wall, the streets, the Council chamber and the Atelier. Already the more affluent were hoarding resources and small bands of personal bodyguards. Those needed most on the frontlines.
Sylia did not wish to intervene entirely. Mortals could not ever truly grasp the scope of this Galbaric Incursion. Fear and chaos would reign unless they came together and unified and what greater a unifying force? So she would leave such distastefulness to Hollis, while she enacted a grander plan.
The third day came of hit and runs upon the walls by the fiendish monsters of red clay and rancid smells. Whilst from the skies there came attacks of claw and teeth with the occasional spittle of acid. Sylann’s defenders fired arrows and struck down those that managed to climb to the top of the walls but more and more enemies were coming. Upon the fourth day a creature with great claws for digging burst up in a market square, spewing forth a horde of small spindly monsters that hacked and burned what they could. This happened three more times before they were put down by brave mortals. But many feared this would only be the beginning.
On the fifth day, the river was breached by black creatures with too many fish heads that dragged many into the depths before they were driven away. Outside the wall, more and more demons were gathering. Some were dragged with great red chains, as they had no discernible arms or legs, just great bulbous bodies and long necked mouths.
Then the sixth day came.
Althea shouted down at her goblin archers, “Fire! Fire at will!” Down the line Vaesna, her hand’s sharp blades, also gave the command to fire. The tall syllianth woman- no, Syllianth Warrior, looked out over the wall as arrows whistled past down into the horde of shrieking monsters. They were so far below they simply looked like a bubbling black and red mass. She waved her bladed arm, the metal already coated with black blood, to fire again and again. Most of the goblin archers were firing directly over the lip and back into the wall, as their enemies climbed. Others shot up at the sky, before winged beasts with too many tails and too many limbs plucked soldiers off the wall and cast them into the abyss. There was smoke behind them, as the city fell into chaos.
This was the worst attack yet and the screams, oh the screams. Althea hoped Ophelia and her baby were alright. There was a shout and a clay creature, punctured by so many arrows it looked like on those porcupine beastfolk, crawled over the wall. She was swift, as were others, and between her own sword cleaving its head apart and the spears that thrust and pushed- it toppled back over the wall.
“Good work men!” She shouted, allowing a bit of pride to well up in her. She couldn’t let herself think of the innocents down below the city, nor what fate would befall them. She had to trust in Hollis and the Goddess. But it had been almost a week of constant fighting and Althea was perturbed to say the least. Even Vaesna, who had slain in single combat the largest clay creature she had ever seen, was beginning to feel the effects of the siege. More and more of them were dying, the goblins and the beastfolk and every time she saw it happen, she felt a little part of her die with them.
The Syllianth were made to teach and protect. Not watch as their charges were slain, protection useless. A flying creature vomited a spray of acid at a nearby goblin and in one quick leap, Althea held up her other arm over the goblin, a great shield it had become, and the acid hit it. She grunted as the acid bit into her appendage but it was only a small pain compared to it landing on unprotected flesh.
“Thank you Althea!” A goblin woman with large blue eyes, carrying a bow, looked up at her with awe.
“Keep firing those arrows, Manda.” She grunted through the pain.
“Yes lady!” Manda beamed, pulling out an arrow with an iron head. She fired, the arrow lost in the hail of many. Althea hoped her mark was true.
A great booming erupted from below and Althea began to shout but it was too late. Seconds later, she felt the impact of something, then several things, on the wall below. She knew the wall was impenetrable, so what was- her soul shuddered as she saw several goblins begin to peer over the edge and the large hands that grabbed them.
“MANDA!” She screamed, rushing to save the small goblin, but it was too late. One moment the girl had been at the edge and then the next she was flung off, replaced by a black spindly hand that pulled up a beast out of her nightmares. It stood like a man but taller than her, with two shriveled black heads and numerous red eyes. It had four boney arms, two of which held nothing but its own clawed fingers and the other two, they were just like her- a jagged black sword, made of bone. Pure weapon.
As more carried themselves over the wall, Althea loosed a war cry and faced the one who had killed Manda. Not letting it get a foothold, she used her bulk and slammed into the thing, sending it tumbling back but not over the wall. It had used its sword arms to grip the lip of the wall and flung itself back over and into her. She blocked as it swung, the blow forcing her back. Then it gripped her shield with its free hands, wrenching her arm at such an angle it almost broke before she gave in and then it used the opening to slice her torso from navel to chin.
She hissed, reeling back, the cut only skin deep but painful. It would scar, the damn thing would make her scar. What a stupid thought to have. She readied herself as it swung again, blades thudding against the shield she brought up. It went for her shield but she had expected that and backstepped, bringing her sword in for a piercing stab. It parried her, and Althea was flung off balance. Another sword swept from her side, she barely had time to bring up her shield and the blow sent her reeling to the floor.
It began to stoop over her, red eyes full of malice. She hadn’t noticed it before, didn’t have time too, but now she did in all of its horror. The things chest ripped apart, revealing rows of sharp teeth and a sucking tongue that led to an endless black. Panic seeped in as the fight abandoned her. There was no stopping these things. Not like this. She began to crawl backwards, her arms becoming hands once more. Not like this. Please, by the gods, not like this. She looked around. Looked for any sort of help. She saw none. Her allies were dying. Her friends and comrades over the last week lay ruined upon the stone. More demons climbed over the wall. Vaesna… Vaesna still fought. Her blades dancing between each swing, each dodged grasp. Althea watched as she cut the hands off a demon and as it screamed, she cut its head off. Two more charged her, half eaten bodies gaping from their bodies and Althea was reminded of her own impending doom. She took solace in the fact that Vaesna would survive.
The real hero.
There came a burst of silver colored light from the sky, a brightness so intense she shut her eyes. When it faded, she opened them to see that the demon had been pierced through the head by a long spear. Althea blinked and stood, the silver spear beckoning to her. It radiated power and when she put her hands upon the swirling shaft, she felt it course through. Invigorating like a breeze after a summer rain, or the taste of a sweet apple, a lover’s kiss. She felt stronger and was glad for it. She hefted it from the demon’s head and held the point high. She let out a new war cry and charged at the nearest demons, the two that attacked her friend.
While its back was to her, she threw the spear and it landed true, right in the back of the demon. It screamed with pain and before it could react, Althea was there, stabbing it in the head with her own sword arm. With a squelch it fell and she pulled the spear free, assaulting the next demon with Vaesna. It fended them off, blocking and parrying until Althea saw an opening and took it, plunging the spear into the fiend with lightning speed. Vaesna then cut off its heads.
Her friend’s eyes bulged as she looked at the spear. “Is that why you became so fast?” she asked.
Althea shrugged. “It didn’t feel fast. It made an opening and I took it.”
The two began to jog towards the next battle. “Althea, even Hollis wouldn’t have been able to do what you just did. Thank the maker.”
Althea nodded, her head still swimming from almost dying and suddenly thriving. She could hardly know what to think, especially at a time like this. She just… She just knew what to do. It felt right.
“I’m glad you’re still here.” Althea whispered, looking over Vaesna.
“So am I.” her friend said and the battle waged once more.
“Oh, to be a divine.” Sylia sighed. She had been watching the battle from a distance. Gathering information and weaknesses. She was not a warlike God to begin with but this, this entire situation across the globe, was troublesome. There were no gods in the pantheon with martial prowess. Certainly they could fight and Galaxor was proof of that. But was this incursion a fluke or a summons? Was it a test or the start of a pattern?
She knew struggling would always be a part of the mortal equation. It was only natural to them as it was for her to create. But if these struggles from the realms beyond their own became a normal occurrence, well, perhaps it was time to finally act. She had already saved Althea and a few others from certain doom. The enemy were becoming crafty, adapting strategies when they failed. Already they were building higher siege placements to scale the wall, the twinsword demons had only been a delaying tactic. Soon they would begin to hammer the city itself. Could she let her mortals struggle anymore? She shook her head.
“They’ve proved themselves and now I shall prove their devotion to me. To all Divine kind.” She smirked.
From the Atelier they came.Beings of pure metal. Bronze, iron, even steel. Taking suitable shapes for war. Towering over all who dwelt within Sylann. At their head strode Sylia herself. This would not be an army for protection, though they could protect, but for the purposes of war. Thousands marched forth, clearing the streets of any would be foes. Into them Sylia had poured the durability of metal, the knowledge of the earth and the abilities for combat.
Wherever they went, wherever the earth had been torn asunder, they began to fill in the holes. And more came from the Atelier. When they reached the gates, every single gate with Sylann, they opened them and marched forth.
The world was under siege but didn’t mean one couldn’t fight back.
Sylia is surprised at how swiftly the invaders find Sylann and begin to attack it. A siege occurs and over several days we see the enemy adapting and trying new strategies. On the sixth day, the worst day of fighting yet, Althea fights on the walls with goblin archers she commands and swiftly loses all of them as the onslaught commences. She almost gives up hope before she is saved by a spear she then gladly picks up to use.
After watching all of this occur and realizing that her mortals have struggled enough, she notes that it is time for her to show that their devotion is not misplaced. She creates the Formed, metal constructs created for war and earth manipulation. She then personally leads them through the gates to beat back the invaders from her city.
6MP starting
-1MP (Towards War) To create the Heirloom of War. Taking the shape of a spear, it bolsters one’s strengths and speed when fighting. Turning the wielder into a tool for the weapon to succeed.
-2MP (boosted with Metal) To create the Formed, metal constructs designed for combat and war. Living weapons. -1 Created with supreme durability, even with lost limbs will they continue on. -1 Blessed with the ability to reform themselves with suitable parts
-1MP (Towards War) Blessed the Formed with enhanced combat abilities in the form of resilience, speed and strength. -2MP (Towards Earth) The Formed have control of the Earth and can use it as a tool. Primarily bending and manipulating it for their own needs or as a task demands it.
0MP remaining (4/4 for Earth Domain) (2/4 For War Domain)
“I still don’t understand how it works.” Ida confided.
“Works of the gods are seldom understood, Ida.” Ayre said.
The two watched the syllianth as they worked with forge acolytes, mainly the sturdy and stocky dwarves but there were a few elves, goblins and some beastfolk. The two sisters leaned against one of the rock pillars, simply content to watch. For a very specific reason, Ayre knew, Ida always liked to watch around noon every few days.
It hadn’t taken her long to find out why. It was one of the few times that nothing was expected of them. Ida was often busy with father, helping him pick fruit, forage, and consult with other elves. That or she was left to her own devices, to wander and, unfortunately, fall into the hands of those that did not like her. Ayre knew her sister never willingly went to find those elflings but they were drawn to her and they always struck when she wasn’t around. For Ayre had her own schedule to keep. Perhaps it was favoritism on their father’s part or perhaps he sought to shield Ida from the worst of Arbor, despite its perfect pretenses. Ayre didn’t know but she only really saw her sister, in the last few years as they aged, in the mornings, in the afternoon and for evening meals. Ayre was off being taught by the older adults, learning and taking care of shrines. She talked to many other species that way, and most of the time, she had the feeling she was being groomed for some greater purpose. Yet her heart told her she should stay by Ida’s side. Like when they were smaller elflings.
She let out a sigh and looked at her sister, whose gaze was wholly focused on- Ayre blinked and did a double take. She was looking at a syllianth whose shirt was fully off, exposing his muscular green torso. His hand had become a hammer and he worked on a piece of metal. Was that what Ida was staring at, what he was working on? Ayre looked her sister up and down, noticing the intensity of her gaze. Oh, oh by the gods.
Ayre nudged Ida and her sister blinked before looking at her. “Hmm, what?” she asked.
“Really Ida?” Ayre crossed her arms, a smile blooming on her lips. “Is that why we’ve come here all this time? And here I thought you wanted to spend some quality time with your older sister.”
The blush on Ida’s cheeks went scarlet and her white legs began to fidget. “That’s not… I wouldn’t…” She began to stammer but Ayre collapsed her shoulder.
“Oh it’s alright, Ida. You could have told me though.” Ayre gave a squeeze.
“Well I don’t- What’s there to say? I’ve never even spoken to him. I just watch.” she said.
“What’s stopping you?” Ayre asked in a soft voice.
Ida looked around and then settled on the syllianth. “I am unsure. The syllianth are different. They have a purpose and…” her voice trailed off.
“Ida.” Ayre cupped her sister’s cheek and turned her so their eyes locked. “You are the wisest person I have ever met. When you set your mind to something you are always certain. Don’t let your mind talk you out of what your heart wants. Now go and say hello.” She began to nudge Ida forward.
Her sister began to protest but her shoulders at last drooped and she turned, giving Ayre a quick hug and a whisper of thanks.
Ayre then watched Ida walk across the forge, almost tripping with her black hooves, as she made her way to that syllianth. When she was nearly there, he looked up and Ayre swore he stared at her with the same intensity. Oh he had seen her before, this was perfect!
“Ayre?” A voice made her jump from where she watched from behind the pillar. She turned around to see their father. His regal posture and warm eyes looking at her with eyebrows raised. Then he looked past her to see his other daughter and, surprisingly, a small smile formed on his lips.
“Shall we be having a guest for the evening soon, you think?” he asked, beckoning her to follow.
Ayre did so and stepped into his pace at his side. “I uhm, I do not know father.” Honestly, she thought her father would disapprove of such a pairing. But maybe she was too hasty in judgment? Her father said nothing in return as they began to ascend the great Tree. Many people seemed to be in a hurry.
“You and I have always wanted one thing for Ida, you know?” he said, voice just audible above the fray. Ayre looked up at him and found he was looking at her with misty eyes, “You may think me many things, daughter, but I have always wanted Ida to find happiness. Your mother,” he blinked away a tear, “That’s what she would have wanted. For both of you.” he took Ayre’s hand, his grip cool against her warm skin and he dragged her into a brief hug. A display so rare that Ayre had no idea what to think of it. When he let go, he touched her shoulders and looked at her, misty eyes gone.
“The Goddess has left the Tree, Ayre. Something dangerous has entered our world and she went to stop it from coming here. Any moment now-” His voice cut off as a voice flooded into her mind, drowning out all sound. A God’s voice, one so distantly familiar, with a warning unlike any other. When it ended, if there hadn’t been panic before, there was now.
“Ida!” Ayre gasped, but her father’s grip was secure and she looked up at him again, anxiety welling in her heart.
“Ayre, listen to me. Your sister will be fine, we still have time to prepare and she is safer below with the Syllianth. If I know anything, it’s that they will protect her. That one she was talking to, he will protect her.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked, voice trembling. Why couldn’t she go and get her? Why was her father acting so strangely? What was this threat in the south?
“You must trust me. Now come, we are needed up above. To secure our works in case the tree is attacked. Come now, everything will be alright Ayre.” Her father said, pulling at her to come.
Reluctantly, looking behind her every few steps, Ayre began to follow. She sent out a prayer to any God or Goddess; Protect my sister.
We see the twin sister’s once again, Love is in the air for Ida and Ayre just wants her to by happy. So does their father but then comes the message from El about bronze age collapse and everything is thrown into a panic.
High up in the World Tree, where mists clung to the air in heavy curtains despite the ever present sun, an infant wailed. Pure, strong, wonderful- The sign of new life in all its glory. It was a cause of celebration! That the Goddesses touch was with them and a healthy child would soon babble, crawl and walk underneath the bows of green leaves. Yet, there came no joyous singing.
Only a long wail.
“She’s losing too much blood!” A woman shouted.
“You don’t think I know that!” A man snapped back.
“We need- we need cloth!” A dazed woman stuttered.
“Then go and find some!” The man screamed.
The room was full of chaos. Red hair in tangles, hands dripping wet, bodies going to and fro. A baby screamed her lungs out, swaddled and cradled to no avail. Another baby, silent as stone, was being rubbed by panicked nursemaids.
“She isn’t breathing!” The one holding her said. Hands shaking as they worked upon the small back. The babies white legs dangled lifelessly and despite the deformities, she did not wish to see life taken too soon. Or at all.
“I know-I know! Just keep rubbing. We need her to breathe- we need-” The other nursemaid was cut off by a small gasp and the baby began to cry. It was softer than her boisterous twin and they quickly swaddled her, taking time to dry her ivory hair.
“I don’t know what to do.” The man said, his eyes wet with tears, as he held his wife’s weak hand.
She squeezed back ever so slightly, a soft smile at her lips. “My babies.” She said, her demand plain as day. But he could see the pain etched there. Such pain.
The crying twins were brought and nestled upon her bare chest. The man helped move the hand he held to the back of the fiery redhead, whilst his wife found the strength to cradle the other. The one who had caused such damage. The one that was so unshapely. The one-
“No.”
He found his wife, her skin wan and heavily prespirating, looking at him with such intensity- he felt his heart flutter. He knew that look all too well. One he was often to blame for and rightly so. It was easy being a fool.
“You will not,” tears began to fall from her face, “You will not blame her. You will not blame our Ida. Promise me.”
At the sound of their mother’s voice, the beat of her dying heart, the babies had grown quiet. It was almost peaceful then, despite the commotion still happening around them. And despite it all, they became the only sight in the world to that man, that father.
“Promise me, Kellam.” She said again, her voice breaking. Strain growing ever apparent. He felt his heart break further and he wondered how long it would take to completely shatter. He could never deny her anything.
Kellam settled down onto his knees. He lay a hand upon the back of the one she held Ida with. His wife was so cold. With his other, he moved the loose strands of red hair from her brow and then cupped her colorless cheek in his hand. Cold, so cold but she smiled and blinked ever slowly, never taking her gaze off of his. She knew his heart better than he ever would.
His shaky voice came forth, the weight of the words like an anchor, “I-I promise. Always and forever.” his voice broke and tears stained his vision. “I love you, Aoife.” He proclaimed, just as he did on the day they were destined to be with one another. Underneath the bows of a great green tree.
Her smile grew faint and her amber eyes snapped to the sleeping babes. Kellam felt her hand give a gentle squeeze to Ida’s back. “Ayre and Ida. Love them… As I have loved you.” She looked back at him, eyes closing. “Always and forever.” Her breath became rattled and Kellam could only watch as the life, promised by the Goddess, passed from Aoife into Death’s hands. He dipped his head, the source of his joy extinguished.
Ayre brushed Ida’s hair, as the two overlooked the vast green of their home. She always loved how the long white strands seemed to shimmer a light purple in the correct lighting. Her own orange hair was dull in comparison, even if Ida disagreed. She smirked but Ida fidgeted, revealing the bruise at her shoulder. Carefully hidden underneath her dress strap and she felt her own stomach drop. The smirk vanished and she sighed.
“Why do you sigh?” Ida asked in a soft, quiet voice. As if she was sleeping but Ayre knew better.
“It’s nothing.” She responded, attacking a knot a bit too vigorously, making Ida’s head jolt back.
“Sorry.” Ayre said as she winced.
“It’s not nothing.” Ida chimed. “You are worried for me. Again.”
“That’s…” She began. Ida was always good at reading her. “Can I not be worried for you?” she asked quietly in return.
Ida turned herself around, her pearl white horn caught a beam of light and sparkled. Her large violet eyes bore into Ayre and she couldn’t help but feel, as she always did, that Ida saw her soul and the truth of her being.
“You are always worried.” she said, placing a hand over Ayre's heart. “It does your heart no favors. Too much worry, for too long and you will become strained, sister.” She said matter of factly.
Ayre put her own hand on top of Ida’s and rolled her eyes. “You don’t know that.” Her sister’s hand was cold but would soon warm, if she kept it close. For Ayre was always borderline hot. Though, only others seemed to say so. She just felt… Normal. If that was a word she could even use.
Ida gave a knowing smile. “I do.” She said, “Do not worry about this.” She used her other hand to touch the bruise on her shoulder. “They were upset and did not know any better.”
Ayre gritted her teeth, she could feel her temper rising. Why did Ida always insist that it was never anyone’s fault if they hurt her? Or even worse, she just blamed herself.
“Now you’re angry.” ida whispered, pulling back her hand.
“Can I not be angry?” Ayre asked and Ida opened her mouth to speak but Ayra quickly followed with, “Don’t tell me that’ll be bad for my heart too, Ida. You know that the Goddess is ashamed of those who give and wear bruises. It isn’t right, none of it is! They do know better, it is decreed by the Goddess that violence is forbidden! No one should be touching you like that!” Ayre fumed.
Ida looked to the floor. They had had this conversation, for what felt like months now. Everytime some Elfling jeered or made fun of Ida, they always felt the need to shove, or kick, or punch her. It boiled Ayre’s blood. And everytime it happened, she would chastise her sister for not coming to her. She still tried, even if she could just guess instead.
“Why don’t you just tell me who it was?” Ayre asked Ida.
“You know why.” Ida said, “It would bring no good.”
“Watching you suffer in silence,” Ayre placed a hand on Ida’s shoulder, “Is actively bringing me no good.”
And Ida said nothing. For Ayre had made it so, the first and last time Ida confided in her about the bullying, she had flown into a rage so bright, she had only seen red. Needless to say, those elflings had received their own bruises and she had gotten herself into trouble. Ida was mortified, if not at her sister, then for everyone involved.
“Let’s go down to the forge.” Ida said, brushing away the topic and sister’s hand. Ayre felt her heart drop but she nodded. She knew they would have the conversation again and she so desperately wanted the outcome to change.
We see the beginnings of two beastfolk elfkin, Ida the halfblood Unicorn and Ayre, the markedblood phoenix. Their story is just beginning.
The lands around the Atelier had changed with the passing of time. Not all could live within that great holy place and thus, Sylia wrought a great gift for those she deemed on the cusp of society and in a frenzy of work, she built by hand a vast city of metal and stone. For several weeks and nights the Goddess was lost in her work and the people of the Atelier could only watch in abject wonder as the land was tamed. The hills were carved out, flattened or expanded into great monuments. Buildings tall and wide took root upon strong foundations. She redirected the river to flow through the very heart of the city, thus allowing the gift of life for all. Great aqueducts rose, carrying water to places not so easily accessible to the river and out into the vast farmlands. For Sylia had plucked from the far south strange creatures, walking pigs who talked and agreed to teach any about the prospects of agriculture in return for new hearths and plots to till. Knowing the people of the Atelier would need a helping hand to fully grasp what was before them, Sylia went south again and returned with different goblins. Ones who talked with strange accents about hierarchies, kings, queens, priests and the Goddess of Civilization.
Thus the Goblins of the Atelier were again elevated and those strange beastfolk people who had arrived during much of this, gladly took root there, safe from the terrors of the wilds. Yet the pinnacle of this city was not in some great work, for in time those would arise, but instead in the sheer size of it all. There were homes a plenty and would be for years to come as the old died and the new were born. As the populations would sore and Sylia had simply given them a basis to expand with their own culture and systems.
And so they built upon what they were taught and Sylia only changed what did not work, into something more manageable. There would be no strife in such a fledgling nation if she couldn’t help it and the only divine right they had would be to exist, not to butcher those who opposed. That could come later if it was needed. Sylia only wanted it functional. Ultimately, it would be the mortals who would decide how they ruled themselves and the all encompassing threat of a God would loom above them. Logic and reason would prevail but the world was still young and the Goddess knew there would come a time when war would be the only certainty. And she could only wonder if they would be ready.
So at last the city was created around the Atelier, stretching wide and far. As a final gift, Sylia erected a wall of white stone around the entirety of it and she also gave the knowledge on how to repair stonework when needed. Wide enough to be patrolled, thick enough to staunch any would be attack- it would be a mighty deterrent or the ultimate prize.
Satisfied as she could be, Syliawould name her creation, Sylann. The city of Innovation.
“Really Althea?” Vaesna sighed as the two Syllianth rushed up the steps that lead towards the third tier of the Atelier. Goblins wearing white togas with gray beards walked past them.
“I’m just saying,” Althea began as she took a quick breath, “Even if we’re late, no one is going to bat an eye.”
Vaesna rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said last time and Hollis still made us chisel the statue until our hands went numb.”
“Well, so what if we do? You know our tardiness is worth it.” Althea eyed Vaesna and smiled. “Do you regret seeing Ophelia’s baby and those little chubby cheeks?”
Vaesna returned the stare, her emotionless facade breaking apart with every second. “Ugh. Of course not. It makes me want to have my own.”
A fullblood mongoose walked past, wearing working leathers and a large smile. Althea turned, “Hey Izara!” And gave a wave.
The mongoose girl looked up sheepishly at Althea and waved back and then kept going.
“Well, you know that’s easily changed.” She gave a sly smirk to Vaesna and elbowed her. “Many suitors about, dontcha know.”
Vaesna waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. I know, it’s just…” She took a breath, “I’m not sure I want to be a mother just yet.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Althea agreed, “Plenty of time. In fact, all the time in the world really.”
“Yeah. Maybe one day. Let’s leave the ones like Ophelia to keep up the good work. You and I have other, more important matters to attend to. The Goddess demands it.”
They reached the tops of the steps and began the direct walk towards the massive workshop. “I doubt she demands much of anything.” Althea murmured as she looked up at the two massive marbled statues on either side of the ornate doors. Sylia had called them the Watchers, created in the memory of some creation long gone from the world but not forgotten.
They opened the doors and rushed into the lit interior of Sylia’s personal abode. Upon entering a room that was designated for them, they found several others of their kind fast engrossed with their own projects. Woods were being carved, a few were hammering at a large chunk of metal and a few sat in a circle weaving. A large open fire burned in the center and the smells of the place brought a tingle to Althea’s core. She loved the place but then she eyed her own spot. An imperious looking Syllianth, his tall erect posture giving away his entire personality, stood by two empty workbenches with his hands crossed.
“Hollis…!” Vaesna began but the male raised his hand.
“Late again.”
“I can explain!’ Althea burst forth.
“I’m sure you can.” he said with little fanfare. “But I don’t really care. You aren’t children, I shouldn’t have to reprimand the both of you again. Statue duty, again.”
They both groaned.
The two found themselves in a chamber near the back of the workshop that led outside into a large garden. In the middle of that Garden was a large block of marble that required scaffolding to fully access. Luckily, they and others who had and would work on the statue, had already established the head down to the chest. It wasn’t like they didn’t enjoy carving and chiseling but what they were peeling layer from layer from the stone was the issue. It was Sylia and no one wanted to mess it up. So they worked, shaping their hands into chisel and hammer. All the while the silence between them was palpable. Althea took everything in stride whereas Vaesna, not so much. This would be the second day the taller Syllianth would not be able to work on faceting and Althea didn’t know how to broach it. So she sighed.
“Althea. Vaesna.” A voice from behind them called out, and a shiver went up Althea’s spine. Not one of fear or even disgust but of pure excitement. How could one not be, with who that voice belonged to and its beauty. They both turned and immediately bowed before their Goddess. Sylia hummed the response to rise, so they did and Althea found the chiseled goddess looming before them. Her form of sleek obsidian with eyes of shimmering ruby.
“Goddess.” They both chimed back as a large smile found its home on Althea’s lips. Her hands reverted back to fingers and she clasped them down at her waist.
Sylia looked past them and up at the statue. Althea followed the Goddesses gaze and found that she wasn’t just looking at the statue but beyond it.
“One day you shall look up at the heavens and not shy away from the sun. Another would be there and the nights not so dark. One that could be looked at and admired.” Her shoulders seemed to slack. “But how can one long for something they do not know could exist?” She seemed to say to herself as her arms crossed behind her back.
“Goddess…?” Althea asked, not making any sense of it. Vaesna gave her a sharp look in return and Althea winced but she found Sylia’s gaze upon her own and the Syllianth girl felt herself shrink.
“Nevermind that. Tomorrow the both of you shall survey the north wall. Hollis suspects your feet could use the exercise and I agree.” Her face was an emotionless mask, yet her eyes seemed to dance. “Now, you may continue and remember, this test is for all of the Syllianth’s to fail or succeed.”
And then she was gone in a blink. Both Althea and Vaesna groaned.
Feeling otherworldly inspiration, Sylia makes a great city around her holy site, the Atelier and names it Sylann. She nabs some Snouters and some more civilized Goblins to kickstart agriculture and government respectively. She then creates a great white wall around the city and teaches all within the art of repairing stone. We then have a peek into the lives of the Syllianth and what they are up too.
Sylia Starting with 3MP
*Sylia uses her Divine Quest Reward to create a great city around the Atelier, naming it Sylann.
-1MP (Towards Earth Domain) She erected a great wall around the city, made of white stone. Made to withstand the sheer eons, hardy and durable.
-1MP (Towards Earth Domain) To teach everyone within Sylann how to repair the great wall that protects them, and this would naturally curtail them into being able to repair many of the stone work that exists within the city.
’Down by the river in a flowing cerulean stream, come and see the beastfolk and their wandering dream.’ The daffotales sang amidst the cool breeze of a fading sun. Peace reigned despite the odd assortments of beastfolk gathered. Beasts, birds and reptiles, living in harmony as they traveled. The days of the desert were well past, Salvation had come and new life was blooming. Children played with pearling laughs and elders talked about the times. Some fished, some slept, while others watched.
For not all beastfolk were so inclined to the ways of peace and easy living. Well, as easy as life could be in that time and age. Survival was a constant. One wrong decision cost lives. One violent Wildblood would kill them all.
So it was, for there were no heroes. Not yet. And so it would be.
“Must go must go mussst go!” A snake hissed to the others as it slithered across the small dune that sat overlooking the river. He kept looking back, even while his vision became obscured, black scaled arms pumping with every motion of his powerful lower-half.
That small camp next to the riverbank jostled at once and then blew into a full blown panic. Beastfolk of all sorts bolted, flew and swam in every direction. Grabbing children, helping elders and securing supplies. On land, water and into the sky, everywhere except the way the snakeman came from.
A pride of lions stood their ground however, as the snake, nearly out of breath stopped before them. His own flame cowering but not because of those beasts.
His forked tongue flicked forth, tasting the air. “Not afraid?” he panted, clutching his sides.
The largest of them, standing a foot taller with a thick black mane growled, “We are strong! Not weak! Not afraid! Stand and fight!” He pounded his chest once.
The snake shook his arrow like head, amber eyes unblinking. “Won’t fight. Can’t fight. Goodluck.” The snake began to slither off, taking his chances with the water it seemed.
The lion roared, “Coward!” but the snake didn’t look back. The lions looked up at the dune, brandishing makeshift clubs. The inner flames were that of warriors, of fighting the only battle that mattered. Between life and death. Bravado, strength, pride and loyalty. No finer traits there could be had and yet, as the Wildblood crested the hill and paused to look down at them with its hungry eyes, they felt fear. A demon in beastly disguise. Jaws opening wide to showcase sharp, salivating teeth. The Mongoose, even from top of the hill, was large. Almost as big as the tallest of them, their leader, Black Mane.
He knew who the killer that had come for them was. Every beast folk knew the names of their terrorizers. The ones who could not see reason, whose inner flames had burned with nothing but hate and violence. Oh he knew. He remembered his own village being ripped apart. The memories like lightning in his mind.
His eyes narrowed and he pointed the club at the Maw Who Slew In Salvation. In challenge to the death. Now the fear came, clinging to the air like mist. He let out a low growl at his unsteady pride mates.
The Maw let out a low snicker as it began a slow descent down the hill. Large claws dragging in the sand, sending the grains down the hill like small waves. The demon sniffed the air with slow head bobs, the brown fur on his back beginning to bristle with a killer’s thrill.
Black Mane shuffled slightly. “Steady.” he growled, “Steady.” As the Maw approached, the lions stood their ground. The great beast began to circle them, sniffing the air and chattering with his teeth. Sounds of excitement, turned ghastly in the twilight. The pride was beginning to falter, Black Mane could feel it. He glanced to either side of him. Walking with Bristles was wide eyed and shaking. Scratches the Sand looked like he was going to be sick. He dare not look back to see how Running Grass and Creak Listener fared. As long as he led them, they would survive.
They had to.
“Fear…” The Maw said in a low, animalistic voice. “Sweet…” he cooed, the word harsher than it had any right to be. Someone whimpered behind him and Black Mane cursed.
The Maw sprang at them, the burst of speed almost blindingly fast. Black Mane braced himself, ready to swing but the damn demon had bluffed charged them and he watched as the Maw jumped back, the demon’s eyes snapping past him and he smiled. It was too late. Someone had bolted and the Maw sprang again.
Black Mane swung his club as it ran past them but the Maw jumped out of the way and in an instant, had Creak Listener by the back of the head. Black Mane watched as the wildblood and his pridemate hit the ground and there was no time to act as the Maw began to shake Creak Listener’s head. There was a sickening sound of bones cracking and squeezing and then a loud pop as a gush of blood poured from the Maw’s mouth.
“RUN!” Scratches the Sand screamed and his pride mates bolted, leaving Black Mane to stare down the beast by himself.
“COWARDS!” Black Mane roared at them, before he charged the Maw. He swung his club once more, only able to see red but the Maw ducked low and he hit air. Next thing he knew something had slammed into him and he was sent flying. With a thud he landed in the sand, the air knocked out of him.
But he steeled himself, he wouldn’t die on the ground like a coward and so he got back up and readied himself.
The Maw looked at him now with a smile that could only bear bloody teeth. He began to walk towards Black Mane, assured victory in every step but then the Maw stopped. He cocked an ear to the side and his heckles lowered. He sniffed once, twice and then he backed up, plucking Creak Listener’s corpse before he made a swift retreat.
This left Black Mane confused, until he heard the rush of mighty wings blow past him. He scanned the darkened sky but saw nothing. Then he looked around the now quiet camp and realized his pride mates had run over the hill, while the Maw had left in the opposite direction. His ribs hurt but that wasn’t going to stop him from catching up. Damn the Maw, that coward! And damn his pride mates, he’d teach them to stand and fight.
Then the sky over the hill lit up briefly, followed by a terrible screaming. Black Mane’s eyes widened. Had the Maw doubled back? He ran faster, half climbing, half falling as he crested the hill to see… His inner flame dulled.
Two bodies lay smoldering below, the smell of charred corpse filtering into his nose even then. Someone was struggling but the light was not great enough to where he could see until he saw a flickering light that illuminated a kicking and screaming lion. Once more, helpless, he watched as that light became a roaring inferno that washed over the screaming lion. And Black Mane could see, his now silent pride mate had been lifted aloft, held by a creature he had wished was only rumor.
As the fire smoldered about his friend, the dark settled in again, two gleaming red eyes turned to look at him and the Black Mane at once felt true fear. Primal in intensity. There would be no fight, only flight, yet his legs would not listen. He saw the body drop and he heard the unmistakable sound of a bird taking flight. Yet that had been no bird.
No.
It had been… A wall of fire sprang forth.
’Down by the river in a flowing cerulean stream, come and see where the beastfolk scream.’
The Maw attacks some beastfolk but scrambles when a bigger animal shows up.
His first thoughts had been of running. The second had been a maelstrom of sand. Biting, blinding sand and there had been no direction to go. It was maddening. But he endured. He ran and ran and ran until the howling lessened and then ceased altogether. When this was done he let out a huff, shook himself off and took in his surroundings. A giant wall of dust and sand lay behind him, he had not outran the storm but had survived it. What stretched out before him was more sand, endless beyond the horizon.
The beast glowered and put his head into the air. He took a deep breath and then sniffed the air. The smell of earth was blatant and there was not even a hint of water. He swung his head, sniffing, trying to find some sense of direction. But what was there really to find? Perhaps not so much a direction but a way towards survival. Then he caught a whiff of something that could leave a scent. His head snapped its attention back towards the storm and there, a black dot, silhouetted amongst the dunes came a thing from the storm, just as he had.
His claws dug into the sand, his fur bristling, standing on end. Would it be friend or foe? There was only ever one way to find out and so he ran, marveling at his speed. Starting on all fours, he quickly realized running upright was far better. His legs were feeling the extent of the excursion by the time the figure came into sight. He could make out what it was- One of his own kind but not. A thing smaller than him, with brown creamy feathers, a full dark beak and darker eyes. It seemed to shrink as it saw him and came to a sudden stop as he approached.
“D-Don’t come any closer!” Came it’s high pitched voice. A female. Coming to a stop not fifteen feet away, he crouched and stared at the bird, taking her in. He immediately noticed why she wasn’t flying. Her broken wing, from the storm no doubt. He sniffed the air. Fear was palpable in the air and the bird knew it.
“S-Stay away!” She shrieked, covering her bad arm with the good. .
A deep shuddering thrill ran down his spine. The bird was so much smaller and his belly growled.
The bird looked as if she was going to break. Saliva dripped from her maw as his vision became transfixed. He was about to attack when fate had other ideas. A creature crested behind her, giant and clacking as it swooped between them and scooped them up. The world became darker, more constricting and brief panic set in. He realized he was trapped in some cage, the outside world streaking past.
And then the beast heard a whimper and turned to see that the cage was not so constrictive after all. His eyes went wide, for the bird was there and more. Another one of his kind, with gray fur and a long snout sat huddled across the room. More curious were the small green folk, huddled around piles of some sort of egg. Several in all and they looked at him as well. Fear swelled in the room and he only saw red.
When at last the giant bug reached the river and deposited its contents upon the river bank, those around(and there were a lot around), ran at the sight of half-eaten and bloody corpses and the large wildblood predator emerged, fur matted with dried blood.
He was given a name then, as he went down to drink from the cool waters. One that would forever mark the sin stained upon his face.
Maw Who Slew In Salvation.
A wildblood mongoose comes into the world with fiery hunger; Maw Who Slew In Salvation.
"Ggggreeetttings! My master, Lareus, sends an invitation to come visit him in your dreams." Said the thing that had appeared before her. Much to Sylia’s credit, she had not been alarmed by the sudden intrusion of her personal space but was in fact, disgusted by the thing with too many eyes and too many arms. It looked like a sack of flesh that was too dim witted to realize that it should be screaming in pain. Not because it should have been in perpetual pain, but because of how ugly it was. If this was what awaited her in the dreaming world… Her lips curled into a frown. Though perhaps many arms would be beneficial in situations that demanded… She shook her head and filed that thought away for later.
“The invitation is received.” She stated to the thing, “Though I must confess, sleep is not something that has ever crossed my mind as being needed. Furthermore, Dreaming is a part of the immaterial and I have taken a personal vow to never allow myself to immaterial again. Do send your master my condolences. He may visit me if and when I find a place of permanent residence. Farewell.” She turned away from the thing and looked out over the ocean of origin.
Sylia felt as if the thing was about to speak again and flew up into the sky at a blinding speed.
“Ugh.” She groaned, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Such strange deities, these kin of mine.”
Sylia had come to a stop just on the edge of space and looked at the budding world in its entirety. An ocean on the south pole. Seas on the north pole. Cruel dispositions on both of them. Especially the one made entirely of blood but the north felt uniquely insidious. Both areas would have to be looked at, for she had a sense that one of her kin behind it was not a Divine of reasonable intellect. The other, she could only ponder for the same signature in the north hung around the Tree of Life. A sunbeam acting as a beacon for all time. She looked up at the fledgling light. Very curious.
To top it all off, splitting the world in half was a river the likes of which she had never imagined. Water falling pure from the very sky. It wrapped around the vast crater of the origin, like a snake wrapping around an egg. Truly there would be vast civilizations there, for they were already being made.
She did not understand why the short, diminutive, green-skinned creatures known as ‘Goblins’ were so widespread. She would chalk it up to Galaxor being more headstrong than logical and really, who was she to stop others from taking a fancy to them? If one lacked originality in their own designs, it was only natural to take from the existing pool. Sylia rubbed her chin in thought. Perhaps she could make them better? Enlighten the masses? Well, she wouldn’t go down to the fledgling civilization in the south, not yet anyways, since the uplifting there was already under way.
No, she would head north, not so far as the pole but where the blood rains had not touched the pristine land. Where the vast rivers would bring greenery and with it, an abundance of life. And there, in some unassuming place, she would show them all, mortal and divine alike, just how to create.
From the land of solemn trees and lush vales came a towering complex of Sylia's design. She had chosen the spot not because there was a Divinium pocket underneath, for there wasn’t but because of the location. Crafted from marbled gold and black obsidian, with inlays of silver. Three massive flat circles, acting like a giant's staircase, sat nestled into the hills overlooking a river. Her Atelier. The largest of circles was used as a base, or the first level, and it contained much verdant vegetation and trees. The suckle of craft. The first steps any could take in a new world would be made here.
The second level sat behind the first, with an overlook to take in the view below. Here many rocks and ores could be found, with great sources of heat and industry. Once a mastery for wood was achieved, those with apt minds could try their hand at shaping stone and molding metal.
The final circle sat above the second and here it had a great silver dome covering it, ornate and bejeweled with diamonds. At the height of the day, the sun would hit the dome and light would refract in wondrous beauty, as envisioned by the Goddess. Within that dome sat a personal residence and workshop of Sylia. A crafter’s dream, where the general advancement of the world could take place. Here the fabric of the universe could be unraveled, studied and put to use.
As a final flourish, a great metal work sprang forth from the land and settled over the second circle. A silver orb hung fixed in the middle of giant rings. One made of wood, one made of stone and one made of iron. These rings were in constant motion around the orb, never touching it or the other rings, defying gravity all the while.
When this was at last done, Sylia walked down the long steps that connected the three tiers, prodding her Holy Site with improvements like a fussing hen with her nest. Mainly, on either side of the stairs that started from the very top, she willed into existence two streams of water and watched as it cascaded down out into the distant river. And within such a gaze she saw what she had hoped for- Mortals.
Goblins. It seemed Galaxor had thrown these diminutive species everywhere, leaving them to their fates. As a dozen or so arrived at the first step of The Atelier, Sylia went down to meet them. All eyes were fixed upon her form and she realized, most of them were squinting. With but a thought her form shifted to that of the marble at her feet, her hair forming into obsidian curls before it ceased movement altogether. Now with wider eyes, most took a step back. A few even tripped in surprise.
She looked at them and saw beings of flesh, blood and bone. Bruises lay on most, with cuts, and scrapes. Dried blood and dirt mixed upon their unwashed and thin naked bodies. The smell of refuse and decay was among them, mixed with pheromones. Fear mainly and… She looked upon one female and two heartbeats greeted her. Already with child. Sylia sighed. Animals would be animals, she supposed.
She came to a stop before them and a command echoed from her voice, “Kneel.” And they did.
“Who is capable of speech?” She asked, walking down amongst them. “You may rise if you are.”
When none of them did, she sighed. She came to a stop in the middle, ideas buzzing in her mind.
“You are called Goblins. Your creator chose this name. He and I are kin but I am not him and not your creator. I am Sylia, Goddess of Crafting. Matron of Metals. You know what I am, for some part in those infant minds you can comprehend the magnitude of this being before you. There is no need to be afraid, I have been tasked with the uplifting of all species that desire it. And you desire it. This world will be changing but this place will remain as it is, for all time. Here you will learn and here you will grow.” she said. “Now, to be admitted you must tell me this- Who amongst your group have chosen violence upon another? Rise and point.” Sylia said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at their kneeling forms.
She waited, the air thick with growing anticipation. And then sprang up a shaking young male. He held his body close, as his right eye was beaten shut and his lips puffy. He pointed to another Goblin male, this one jumping up at the accusation. Not first to plead innocence to the God before him but to glower at the pointer. In one quick motion, Sylia was before the glowering goblin, who did not have time to register what happened next. Sylia simply laid a finger upon his brow and his flesh became ash, leaving only bones behind.
There came an audible shock from the Goblins, who were by this point, looking up and at her. The Goddess bent over and plucked a femur from the bone white pile before turning to them and saying with a smile, “First we shall go over bone and its many uses!”
Sylia responds to @eviledd1984 and declines the invitation on grounds of it being a place of the Immaterial, when she is rather pro-material. Next she muses on the going of the planet and decides to create a Holy Site in the north of the world, noting that it lacks any godly touch just yet. Some goblins show up at the end and she decides to teach them how to work bone first, after procuring the bone, of course.
2MP Starting
-1MP For a holy site, the Atelier(3MP). (2 Domains related(Crafting, Metal = x3 bonus) - Made of marble and obsidian with a lot of silver, this three tiered, large structure has been designed by Sylia, replenishing resources and providing a relatively safe place for those who just want to learn how to do live and provide for themselves. ~ The Blessing of the Crafter, Any who endeavor to learn and master a craft will find that it is easier to do so in this place and their projects become masterworks. ~ The Blessing of Metal, Any who learn and practice the art of metal working here will find that it is easier to do so and their projects become masterworks.
Back on the surface, once again the world had changed. A giant tree had sprouted over the Khodex and its canopy felt like a never moving cloud. Animals strode about, flowers bloomed, the scents of nectar and life abounded in the air. Upon closer inspection of the Khodex, Sylia found that a great hall now resided around it and the Khodex itself was protected with vines. It looked as if each empty alcove were to be a spot for a God, twenty some in all. She wanted to kick herself for not having thought of it before she dove underground and now… She focused on the tree, Allianthé’s creation. The Life Goddess would get all the credit.
Well, credit where credit was due, Sylia supposed. Even better, she held out the nugget of Allianthite. What would a goddess of life fancy? She pondered for a time before an idea trickled into her mind and she went to work on the nugget of green. It became like liquid in her hands and she swirled her fingers, watching as the metal shimmered and reacted. She let her intent remain neutral, not wishing to change the nature of the Allianthite. She found this process most tedious as her mind buzzed with possibilities, not all of which were suitable. Eventually she settled upon a simple, yet elegant gift for one who had made such a place.
Sylia curved her fingers and began to shape the metal. Slowly the hum about it began to fade away, no longer intertwining with the pure Divinium until it was overpowered entirely. This did not bother her, for it was but a material to be used and in doing so, became far more useful. When she had gotten the shape into her liking she used her fingers to begin forming delicate petals. What would have taken a mortal a lifetime, she managed to complete in short order.
An emerald rose for the Goddess of the great tree, to remind her even the inorganic could be used for Life. She placed the rose beside the Khodex and in doing so, looked over the cocoon again.
"This form does not suit you." She said to it and another idea formed.
She took her second Divinium nugget and looked at it within her palm. It was the size of a small rock, humming with warmth. she returned the Hum and began to clear her mind. She also used her free hand to touch the Khodex. And it was then she knew what she wanted to make. How difficult could it be? So she became very still and closed her eyes and began to focus her intent upon the nugget. She did not will it to change. She did not want it to change. She wanted it to simply transform. It must be pure. Unalloyed. Perfect. It was for the Khodex. She felt a tingling in her hand that held the nugget. Something was happening. Her power coiled around the ore, pouring into it. Not for her but for the Khodex.
For the Khodex!
Light flared and then all grew quiet as the hum faded away. She opened her eyes and found that a crown of Divinium lay in her hands. Pure like starlight and shining with an ethereal glow. Weaves of Divinium interlaced, twining around to form the circular shape it had taken. The crown's simplicity was its beauty and Sylia beamed with satisfaction. She felt as if she had a new understanding of how metals worked. What made them. How they could be shaped. How they could transform.
She dipped her head before the Khodex and offered the crown to it. It, of course, did not respond and Sylia rose, placing the crown above the Khodex where it hovered like a halo of purest white.
"For whatever you are to become." Sylia mused, grabbing the Emerald Rose and walking over to an alcove. There she placed the last Divinium nugget and crafted into Sylium a lifelike replica of herself, one-hand holding a hammer and the other outstretched. A hand holding a planet was embossed into the background behind the statue's head. She looked rather indifferent, well the statue, that was. Within the outstretched hand she placed the Emerald Rose and stepped back. She admired her work for a few seconds and nodded.
Then Sylia vanished.
Sylia returns to the Khodex and finds a tree. Admonished that she didn't think of creating a site around it she gives credit to Alli and leaves her a gift, the Khodex a crown, claims the metal Domain, and makes a statue of herself in an alcove before departing.
Part 2 of yesterday's post and takes place shortly after the Tree is created when no one is around.
Starting 9 MP
-1MP (Towards Metal Domain 2/4) - To create an artifact of Allianthite, the Emerald Rose. A deeply rich green replica of a rose. Imbued with the power of Life and the unique properties of Metal, it is capable of growing common metals. Simply touch the stem to an ore and after some time passes, 'veins' of said ore will have sprouted.
-2MP (Towards Metal Domain 4/4) - To create an artifact of pure Divinium, the Divinium Crown. This interweaving and intertwining crown glows a soft white. Those that wear this crown can control metals around them telekinetically. It also can locate Divinium veins.
The Goddess hummed as she worked. She ran her hands through the regolith and stone of the dead world bit by bit. Breaking and binding, molding and shaping- forming structure through sheer perseverance. The Khodex had not yet kept the promise she had foreseen but soon, soon it would. In the meantime, Sylia worked, flexing her mind so as it would not go dull. What had started as a simple stacked stone house with a simple door and one open window, had quickly become a small village and then unable to stop, had formed into a large town. Silent but for the steady clanking of stone upon stone and her ever present humming.
It had not been difficult to work the land's nonexistent substance into material suitable for house making. Though, Sylia knew no one else could probably have done it and certainly not any of lesser standing. Those also promised by the Khodex. Having used up her strength or having had it stolen from her, she was far too dilapidated to truly make anything last. All thanks to that scroll up above.
That scroll that- A sharp sense of impending doom flooded into the Goddess and she looked towards the Khodex. She stopped her working and stood as fear and elation began to well up inside of her, banshing the doom. The promise was at last going to be kept and she would bear witness to it. She would then be able to commence her great works. Delve for her contributions, create and create and create!
Sylia opened her arms towards the smoking world, tendrils of wrong washed over her as she dipped back her head and shut her eyes. Everything would be alright.
And then with a bang, the universe was at last born.
To even try to describe what she felt during that time would have been inadequate to how it made her feel. Like a blanket of rock comforting the earth that she was. What could be, what was going to be, what would never happen- the time blurred and she felt herself slipping into euphoria and then, quite suddenly, she was standing before the Khodex.
Awareness filtered down from her starstruck high a bit too quickly. A weight had attached itself to her and she wobbled, catching herself upon the blackened cocoon. Her eyes began to adjust and Sylia was taken aback at how everything had changed. A blue sky was overhead, the smell of water and salt was upon the breeze that ruffled her metallic hair and the ground beneath her feet- she wiggled her toes in the dirt and let out a relieved sigh.
The Khodex had done its task and now it could rest. She placed a hand upon it and said, "Thank you."
Eventually, she pulled her hand away and placed both on her hips. There was so much to do she didn't know where to start yet… Her attention became fixated upon the ground beneath the Khodex. Why had it picked this spot? Could it be… She listened and there it was, a soft hum.
She knelt on the ground and began to dig, the soil hanging in the air before she sighed and realized that spoiling the ground around the Khodex was akin to blasphemy, so she put back what she had upheaved and instead took a great leap into the waters surrounding the island. There she delved deep, fixated upon her search as she crushed rock and stone to reach the…
Chamber.
Or perhaps it was more of a massive network of caves. She could hear a faint hum all around, the voice of her Divinium. Yes, of course the Khodex would settle in this place. She wandered deeper, the hum growing ever louder. She began to see pockets of the shining ore, glittering in the dark like newborn stars. The scent of unmolested stone and new growth clung about in the air but there was also another scent, a smell of sweat and heroic ardor. She had sensed it before in the Khodex and knew the name, Galaxor. His additions to the Khodex were ones that Sylia found to be most interesting. At least that was a polite way of saying it. Maybe it would grow on her one day, the idea of heroics but not now. Now she was busy and could not be bothered by him.
So Sylia skirted the areas that swam with his essence and only from a distance did she spot his fledgling creations. Short, diminutive, green skinned and sweaty. Lit by magma and the Divinium, Sylia wondered why Galaxor had chosen such a spot. And then it hit her, what if he knew about Divinium? Or more importantly, what if he intended to use it? The goddess went rigid with thought. Was it her right to hoard such a gift? To not use it to create and craft wondrous things?
She idled more, touching her chin. What was this jealousy she felt in her chest? She let out a low whine and then kept going, past Galaxor’s chamber, past the small creatures and into the true abyss. There she found it, the hum a great song, the light a beacon. Warmth reached out and caressed her features, her skin prickled at the sensation, shimmering in turn. Upon the outcropping of a great ravine, she stood and looked over the edge to see the Divinium. Her eyes widened at the sheer magnificence of it. She reached out, the hum pulling her in, needing her to join.
Then the world shook and rocks began to fall, not a second later an enormous tree root broke through the top of the ravine and jut down into the abyss. The shaking continued for minutes and Sylia watched, captivated by the sudden turn of events, as more roots burst forth and the cave began to grow with rich moss and lichens. Where it touched Divinium, the ore began to hum a different tune, its white color turning a rich green. More foliage burst forth and the sound of dripping water that cascaded off rocks reverberated from the distance. Sylia turned back to the ravine and noticed that some pockets had turned green but not all of them. The different hums intertwined and played off each other. And it was then that Sylia knew she had to protect such a place. Or at least provide a suitable deterrent, for now. Her driving action was to create and by using the Divinium she could do that and in time, she would teach the mortals. Yet, if such a gift was just given away, it would lose all meaning. She knew then, in the spirit of Galaxor, that if any were to strike a pick into this vein, perhaps all veins, they would need to be challenged.
So Sylia dove into the ravine.
She returned to that same spot not long after, having removed three nuggets of pure Divinium and one of the green. The largest Divinium nugget, around the size of a boulder, she placed before her, whilst the others she placed to the side. Next she began to mold it into her desired shape and as she did it became her own alloy, Sylium. Just like the color of her own form, silvered and ever flowing. Two arms, jointed and with nimble fingers. Two lithe legs that ended at sharp points for feet. A feminine torso, curved and ornamented. She marveled at the versatility and textile strength as she kneaded the metal like dough, feeling every miniscule detail as she worked. Finally she addressed the head. She wanted nothing fancy and so, she made it a plain but reflective oval, polished to where she could see herself in its visage. Lastly, taking inspiration from all around her, she placed a floral crown on top of it and then followed suit around the arms and legs. When she was done, a very imposing automaton lay before her.
She clapped her hands together and it stirred, towering over the Goddess by a few feet. “You will be known as a Watcher. This task I give you, protect the Hum. Let none take from it, save the Divine. Do this duty until the end of time or when you can no longer function.”
It bowed to her and then stood deathly still. A moment later, its right hand curled and a cape came from its shoulder to obscure what lay beneath. From its left hand sprouted a lance. Sylia took note of this, cataloging the properties of Sylium for later. She became giddy with excitement and had to stop herself from having it perform tests. It would do its duty, this she knew and she had to go see whatever plant had roots that went so deep and were so large. So Sylia left after grabbing the nuggets.
Sylia witnesses the big bang after being bored for forever. She finds herself next to the Khodex when she comes down from the information and sensory overload and thanks it. Next she delves underground, sees some goblins and then finds a Divinium deposit. The big tree of life bursts its roots down into the depths and changes some of the Divinium into Allianthite. Fearing that such ore would be too easy to get, she creates an automaton named the Watcher, to safeguard the place until the end of time or death do it part.
Wanted to get a post out so this is like Part I of II
Starting 10 -1MP (towards Metal domain) To craft a metal automaton called the Watcher to safeguard the Divinium underneath the big ol tree.
Member
Vec
Tim the Yeti
Fetzen
Crusader Lord
Enzayne
Timemaster
King of Rats
Jamesyco
Dark Cloud
