Actually, who would be opposed to a discord channel for divinus?
Well, there was a chatango channel set up a while ago that has been gathering dust...
Muttonhawk Member
Let Slip the Corgis of War
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Bio
Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
Most Recent Posts
Well, there was a chatango channel set up a while ago that has been gathering dust...
@Muttonhawk The CODEX OF CREATION!? The Codex of Creation he says!
See? Now you know why I was laughing hysterically in the collab chat! You can join in on my joy.
...Or was it the codex I was laughing about? *spooky finger waving*
Yes, apologies to those people who wanted Minus' reveal to be part of Stand part 4, but the release date for that post is likely going to be autumn of 2017 at this rate >_>.
...
@Muttonhawk, small detail- Vulamera has been spending all her time on her moon, not anywhere on Galbar. That moon (I think it was Cogitare) would have been where Vulamera's death took place, not some grassy field on Galbar.
The scene that Kho described was...well, he didn't describe it. I just took a bit of artistic license. I don't think it really changes anything substantial.
Set after the clash with Violence
You have stopped moving. Have you found the seeker?
He has been taken to a city. His name is Lazarus. He has been given a great shelter to work in.
Keep watching closely.
That shall not be a challenge. The maidservants are not closely watched in this place. I can assume the role of one.
Is there anything else?
He is writing strange runes onto a box. I cannot inspect it without alerting him, such are the nature of the runes.
Are they Tounic?
No. They are...original.
Observe its development.
...
There is something else. Speak.
...He has a shell, like ours. He looks like me.
Inconsequential.
Acknowledged.
...
Report.
He ventured from his house today. He travelled amonsgt the peasantry and partly into the wild.
Why?
Unclear. He has been asking after a gem. The matter appears to be causing him great distress.
Did he do anything else?
He found a dark fruit. It made him jittery when he ate it. He has taken a liking to them. He has taken a number for himself.
Jittery?
It puts him in a daze. He works frantically under its influence. Though he is caught by long pauses for thought.
Take them away if it is damaging him.
They are not as of yet.
...
Where are you going?
He is leaving the city.
Going where?
East. He leaves with haste, as if to go unnoticed.
Keep following him.
He is too young to know how to cover his trail from me. He will not notice a mountain goat at his destination as me, either.
...
What is it?
Ilunabar is here.
For what purpose?
Unknown. Might be a coincidence.
Have you been noticed.
If I have, the goddess has not shown it.
Keep your dist-
They are leaving. I will follow.
Where are you now?
A castle in the clouds. They have stopped here.
It may be a trap.
I can evade it. I will assume the form of an elemental.
You are already doing so, aren't you?
They are discussing things over maps. Lazarus appears to be making some kind of dual-creature.
What for?
An experiment. It is inconsequential.
Acknowledged.
...He has taken something behind her back. A piece of text. It may incept what we need Lazarus to do without our interference.
Ilunabar would have noticed.
She would. She has not reacted.
...
You found Lazarus again. What has become of him?
He resides in a valley. He is growing more guarana here.
Is that all?
Every other detail is written in that box of his. I can only watch him from afar in the form of a bird.
...
A development.
He has enlisted local goblins to tend to his gardens. I have disguised as one to get closer. He has his gems now.
Continue.
Their purpose is unclear. He is reaching into the unseen with them.
Be careful not to be noticed.
Inconsequential. He will see my presence as normal if his only sight into the unseen has me within it.
He will notice your absence.
Then I will not be absent.
...
Also, damn, I didn't know that Zephy and Ilunabar didn't interact. That post where Zephy was lonely came as a surprise.
I swear to god, if Ilunabar becomes 'the girl next door' all of a sudden, you can maybe perhaps possibly have all my might.
Thankfully, Meesei's words were not quite as heady this time. It was a sobering thought that the clans that had been forming were all for a great harvesting of souls, but the way Meesei put it gave them hope to counteract it. As for the experts to find, there were no immediate responses. Oswall raised an eyebrow at the mention of no further great tragedies, despite Irenya's conspicuous absence. Vera had the side of her fists over her mouth in thought. Darahil put aside the flask he held and straightened his back to be the first to speak.
"I may have been away from the academic community for decades now, but there are a number of skilled mages amongst the clans of whom I have occasionally corresponded with." Darahil folded his hands together. "I lose myself no pride by admitting that there is one that I know with more knowledge in some areas than myself. I am a working mage and an Ayleid archaeologist, but a battlemage like no other currently resides in a wereboar clan near Anvil. Her techniques are traditional, but I would wager that she would even give you a challenge in a duel, champion." Darahil leaned his head back slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched. "She is an Altmer named Resara." Though it was subtle, Darahil seemed more facially emotive in his description than he had been for the entire day.
Following odd looks in Darahil's direction, Vera raised her head to give a slow response. "Jerrick used to work with a few smugglers in the early days of the clan. I believe they still operate in the area between Cyrodiil and Skyrim." She gave a tired breath and looked down. "They might have some contacts to find us some organised criminals. Perhaps lycan ones, if we're lucky."
Oswall crossed his arms. "That still leaves a spymaster."
"We may have to ask the other clans for one such as that," Vera said. "It would make sense for such people to not have a reputation."
"I may have been away from the academic community for decades now, but there are a number of skilled mages amongst the clans of whom I have occasionally corresponded with." Darahil folded his hands together. "I lose myself no pride by admitting that there is one that I know with more knowledge in some areas than myself. I am a working mage and an Ayleid archaeologist, but a battlemage like no other currently resides in a wereboar clan near Anvil. Her techniques are traditional, but I would wager that she would even give you a challenge in a duel, champion." Darahil leaned his head back slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched. "She is an Altmer named Resara." Though it was subtle, Darahil seemed more facially emotive in his description than he had been for the entire day.
Following odd looks in Darahil's direction, Vera raised her head to give a slow response. "Jerrick used to work with a few smugglers in the early days of the clan. I believe they still operate in the area between Cyrodiil and Skyrim." She gave a tired breath and looked down. "They might have some contacts to find us some organised criminals. Perhaps lycan ones, if we're lucky."
Oswall crossed his arms. "That still leaves a spymaster."
"We may have to ask the other clans for one such as that," Vera said. "It would make sense for such people to not have a reputation."
A short reminder that Toun is still around, doing more things than just fighting avatars. More to come when the mood takes me.
Set after the clash with Violence
The seclusion of Cornerstone left little distraction for Toun's machinations. The whispers of those who bore his mark amongst the rovaick were perhaps the only break to the patterns of the day, night, time, and tide around him. Their prayers were inconsequential for the most part. What was important was that there were more of them every day.
Upon the great plain of white tiles, in the centre of which Toun stood, slave hain had been occupying their time with more than simply guarding and reproducing. They were building.
Kaolokineticists wove their hands in great sweeping motions, edging upward solid structures from the shining white clay below. It started with short spires that curled towards one another until they fused. These arches, just like the slave hain willing them forth, were laid out in a repeating formation such that they formed rows that bent with the broad curvature of the tile layout beneath them.
Day and night, day and night, the sun flashed over the sky, casting swinging shadows over the growing white stalks. The arches, once united, began to sprout subbranches that reached out for other arches, again uniting when they touched. Onwards this went, apparently forming a vast, roofless, gleaming cathedral of concentric circles. Toun was getting finer with his orders by the month, adapting to the slough-sculpted brain of his servants.
Toun was barely doing anything beyond conveying instructions to the slave hain by the time there was an interruption.
All the hain froze in place. Only their eyes and breathing chests continued moving, becoming distressed by the interruption.
Toun's own blue eye shot wide open. What was that?
It was some kind of burst of power or broadcast. Likely both. It was unseen but to gods like himself.
Toun rotated his head to the direction that the pulse came from. Who was that?
No one he knew of, Toun was certain. In spite of its familiarity, it was foreign. It was a seeker, like Vulamera. But Vulamera was the only seeker. Was this her doing? It was unlike her to be so primal.
This would require a closer look if something so drastic happened as to cause such a cosmic shout. Toun carefully stepped to turn his bare white feet around, apparently prompting the hain to continue their work and bringing noise back to the tiles. With that, Toun took a step. An unnatural step.
He found himself in a silent and empty cavern.
There was nothing left to find, save for mere footprints and traces of divine energy. There were trails about -- more than he expected, and from more foreign sources -- but none were left by the goddess of knowledge. Only that seeker. It was a deceptively similar trail to hers, though fundamentally different.
Why is something so similar to you here, sister?
If he found her, Toun might get answers from Vulamera herself. It would be a fair trade if he had information of his own. Tracking this new interloper in her domain -- this seeker -- might be a start.
"Minus," Toun intoned. His avatars had been idle for a time. Gathering dust in Cornerstone was no good use for them. "Track this being's scent. Hide from whatever it is. Be my eyes, while my other one looks elsewhere."
There was not a question back from Minus. It was already flying over the oceans to this very cavern to begin its investigation. However, Toun had instilled a curiosity into it upon its creation. He knew it was still there, so he decided to indulge for now. "Vulamera may guard her secrets, but if they have been stolen, our goals will be impeded."
Toun stepped again. This time, the step was so long that it shot around all sorts of nooks and crannies throughout Galbar. His search was just thorough enough his needs. He was glad to have this planet as a reference point, knowing that Vulamera would continue studying it. Searching the entirety of creation would be infeasible. Of course, Toun didn't pay heed to whatever he silently passed -- he only kept his senses open for the familiar trail of Vulamera herself.
He found it and stopped. It was faded, but he could follow it. Another step took Toun meandering in the direction of the fresher trail. Sister, why have you moved so erratically? Are you being chased? Were you looking for something?
Something of a worried ache found its way to Toun's abdomen. A number of things caused it. He knew that Vulamera could take care of herself, but her trail explained nothing that made sense. Something was happening to her. It made Toun anxious.
Toun could not know how long he spent wandering before the trail reached its end. To any mortal eyes, the cool steppe seemed an undisturbed natural scene. Rain and wind had washed away all purely physical signs of what went on here. That much, however, was not hidden to Toun. His head began to shiver as he scanned the ground around him. His blue eye was stretched tense with fear, darting in small flicks to take in every detail. The soft breeze brushed over the tufts of grass that broke up the orange dirt, giving an odd peace that rebelled against the true nature of the place.
It cannot be...
The drab, sandy scene did not have a drop of blood, but it may as well have been painted with it. What could have elicited the same reaction would be ground bones and viscera thrown liberally over the dirt and dripping from the tufts of thin grass. If only it had similarly abstracted what happened to Vulamera's essence. Her trail was scattered in every direction at once, fading into stunted smears that curled back to a singular point. She did not transport herself elsewhere. She did not even spread herself deliberately. She was ground apart in the space of an instant and sucked away.
Toun had to blink back his own grief. His sister was gone. Pulverised and eaten.
It made little sense at first. Toun's first blame went to Vestec, perhaps trying to consume Vulamera to feed whatever produced the giggling in his throat. It could have been Zephyrion, having been offended by some uncomfortable revelation Vulamera tried to convey. Even Jvan might have taken her atrocious vivisections to divine flesh. What Toun noticed instead was a trail that he had not seen in aeons.
Toun clenched his fists and narrowed his eye in pure anger. As if his face was a veil obscuring something more human, the bridge of Toun's flat nose contracted into an enraged wrinkle.
On one hand, the appearance of a seeker godling was explained by Vulamera's consumption. The world had a way of balancing such forces, he knew. On the other hand, what Toun feared when looking for Vulamera manifested in a worse situation than even he expected.
This changes things, his bitter thoughts said.
Oh goodness-gracious me. The latest Vowzra post is giving me so much fuel for Toun's development. Hrrrrrrkrk...
I might have to try churning out a post to launch the arc. University be damned. I've got plenty of time tomorrow to do clerical shit, anyway.
I might have to try churning out a post to launch the arc. University be damned. I've got plenty of time tomorrow to do clerical shit, anyway.
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