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10 days ago
Current In my eyes the rebels are evil.
15 days ago
<<Insert_Line:>>"Thus has my profile been changed yet again," - declared the poet. And all could only look on in wonder of the oddity that is, and was, CHIM.<</End_Line>>
15 days ago
Meanwhile real boomers be like:…
22 days ago
Kyros be praised and their Law followed.
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22 days ago
Except on YouTube, but then again that's always been a haven of mental retardation.
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~ M O T ~

Mot blinked, stroking his chin languidly as he took in the news. So Hephaestus was dead? How curious. In truth the Canaanite god of death couldn't exactly muster up much of a need to care about the passing itself, they'd barely even interacted after all, even with all the years in which to do so. Yet the fact the demise had even happened in the first place still came as a surprise. Hell, he hadn't been aware any of their number could die. Never took the time to find out.

He was the one who brought death after all, not the other way around.

Sighing, Mot glanced over at Ba'al as he mulled over Morrigan's words, though he didn't linger on him for too long. Out of all the beings here, and all the bad blood between them, his brother was the least likely in his mind to be the culprit. Distance and a lack of extensive mingling with the other gods made sure of that. So, moving on from his estranged kin, Mot cast his gaze around the rest of the room, the gears in his mind churning with each face passed, those belonging to the other gods of death especially.

He knew his own hands were clean, but could the same be said of theirs?

Flinching, Mot let out a small growl as the silence of the room was abruptly broken. Looking up, his eyes found Hera, who was currently casting blame upon the other Greeks gathered at the table. It would have been amusing honestly, had it not been so damn annoying, not to mention pointless as all her outburst did was further complicate things. No doubt stirring up centuries worth of hidden resentments with each word spat, and bringing the entire meeting closer to the precipice of utter chaos. Clearly something had to be done. Some order restored, if only so he could get out of this with his sanity intact.

"Not to interrupt..." Mot began, clearing his throat. "But perhaps we should try for a more tactful approach?"
Well here's my old one.

It had taken days to accomplish, but the will of his lord and mission had spurred him on, till he arrived at the outskirts of a Toraan freehold at long last. A small, miserable place from what he had seen of it thus far, but one that he felt drawn to nonetheless. For what exactly he still couldn't say, only that it was something coiled deep within him, some unknown thing that had driven him away from the isolated solace of the wilderness and back into the crowded hustling of mankind. Striding up to the gates, he did his best to ignore the suspicious looks of the guards as he quietly passed on through. Making his way down the shoddily maintained streets, hardened by the passage of countless footfalls, Ibel eventually found himself standing before what appeared to be the local watering hole. Though you'd hardly know it were it not for the drunk patrons loitering about the exterior, it was that rundown.

Sighing, Ibel performed a quick check of his possessions, his eyes falling on the crude outlines of coins lying haphazardly within the confines of his pack. More than enough for him to stay here and reason out the elusive parameters of his mission, assuming their food and drink were not exorbitantly priced that is. Making his way inside, he shuffled his way into one of the quieter corners of the establishment, declaring what he wished to consume when one of the servers came by. Propping his chin on top of his hands, Ibel let his gaze wander around the place as he waited for his meal, coming to an abrupt halt as the stirrings of conflict began brewing on the opposite end of the room. It wasn't the implication of violence that gave him pause though, but the reaction he felt well up within him instead. An urge, for that was the best way to describe it, that pushed him to intervene. To step in and...

And what? What was he, a lanky, feeble excuse of a man to do?

"Release them."

A voice settled within his head like a thick haze, yet still he knew. For it was the voice of his master. His lord.

The voice, of Viris.

"What would you have me do lord?" he muttered, watching as the spat slowly began to escalate. "I am but one man, and a weak one at that."

There was a pause as the haze within his mind seemed to shake, almost as though it were correcting him.

"Oh, but you are so much more than that Ibel. For you are my instrument, and where you walk, my will follows. And that will, oh that will is powerful, for it is the will of a god. Now go forth and release them from the confines of their knowledge..."

Ibel took a breath and got to his feet, heart pounding as he made his way over to the two men, both of which were only one insult away from openly trading blows. Taking another breath as he gathered his courage, Ibel quickly interposed himself between the two, thinking to reason with them when the voice of his lord stopped him.

"No child, not with words..."

Suddenly, and somewhat against his will, Ibel found himself taking hold of each man's arm. An act that only served to increase his panic, when all thought was abruptly banished from his mind as a torrent of memories and the sensations that accompanied them came rushing in to take their place. And not just any memories either, but one's revealing the true cause of this current predicament. Memories of a lust filled affair, which clashed violently against musings of unbridled rage, a feeling that only grew stronger the longer he thought about it. Blinking, Ibel did his best to cope with the maelstrom of stolen conflict that was currently churning within his soul, his hands still resting on the tree trunk like arms of the two men as they continued their argument.

"You had no right, you fucking cowar-"

The man cuts off abruptly, face awash with confusion.

"Wh... why am I shouting?"

The other man scoffs as he prepares to retort, only to pause midway through, mouth opening and closing like that of a fish.

"I..." he stutters. "I don't know. I feel like we were arguing about something, but by the gods I cannot recall what that might have been."

Then, as if noticing him for the first time, the man turns his gaze towards the still struggling Ibel.

"Hey, you alright lad?"

"I... I'm fine," he says, finally bringing his internal conflict under control. "Just... just had too much to drink, that's all."

Releasing his grip, he lets his arms fall to his sides as he stumbles back to his corner table, head pounding. Burying his face in his hands, Ibel pays no mind to the confused expressions of the two men as they return to their respective tables, nor the undercurrent of memory still coursing through his head. No, instead he focuses on one thing and one thing only...

The voice of his master.

"I know the task was difficult child, but heed my words and trust me when I say that it is necessary, as are the trials that are yet to come. But take heart, and do not be afraid. For there cometh a day where I shall return and liberate you all..."

Ibel nods, his breathing shaky, but mind clear.

For now he understood.

Now he saw.

~ M O T ~

The Canaanite god of death stared at the body laid out before him intensely, his hands rock steady as he cleaned the pallid flesh in order to prepare it for the next step in the embalming process, when the sound of someone entering the room from somewhere off to his right gave him pause.

"I only work here," he said dryly, his gazed still fixed upon the corpse. "If there's a problem then my manager is the one you want to talk to."

He inclines his head toward the door.

"Oh believe me I would," the figure replied, leaning on its cane. "If I weren't already here for you, that is."

Mot turns, setting aside his tools as he does so, eyes narrowing into slits as the realization dawns.

"Ba'al... what do you want?"

"You mean aside from ending this little "family reunion" as soon as deifically possibe?"

He shifts his stance, putting even more weight on the cane he holds, his cocky expression quickly fading into
one of reluctant defeat.

"The others have called a Conclave. One I presume to be about the Colossus, or lack thereof," he says, gesturing absentmindedly to their environs. "Figured I'd let you know while I was in the neighborhood, since you seem utterly incapable of checking your goddamn post office box."

Mot lets out a small grumble, but otherwise ignores the remark, electing to put away his "work" for the time being instead. It took a good minute or so, but eventually the body was put on ice and his instruments neatly packed away in one of the many backrooms.

"So," Mot began as he strode back out into the preparation area. "Where's the meeting being held this time?"

"That old university," Ba'al replied. "Same one you used to drive by when you lived on that side of town."

Mot nods as he slides on his coat and gloves, both designed to keep him warm against the ever cooling draft that had started settling in the region as it slowly ground its way out of fall and into winter.

"Alright, I'll follow you there. If only so I can narrow down the location of the Colossus itself."

Mot trudged on ahead and out the door, leaving Ba'al to watch him as he went.

"Looks like you're as focused on that as ever..."

Sighing, the lord of rain shook his head before hobbling off after him.
The drive to the location of the Conclave had been an uneventful one, albeit one that was blanketed by an almost palpable silence. Still, the pair had pulled into the university parking lot in due time, and with very little in-fighting to boot. Disembarking from their respective vehicles, the pair made their way into the building and towards the chamber of the meeting itself. Making their way into the rather uninteresting looking room, the deities took seats opposite each other, making the area all the colder because of it.

"Well," Mot said, letting his gaze wander around the room before settling on Morrigan. "You've got us here. Mind telling us what all of this is about?"

Viris sighed as he gathered his thoughts, an act that sent a ripple pulsing throughout his vaporous form. His birth had been an abrupt yet slow one, and his realization of self even slower, though both had been finished in due time. From there he had begun to explore, as most beings did when introduced to a foreign environment, which is what led him to discover Antiquity, the existence of other gods, and most important of all, their rules. Of course such wanderings could not last forever, which was how he found himself back here, stretched out over the barren plains of Lethe like a shroud as contemplated what he should do next. It was at this moment that an idea struck him, one he had not considered before. Turning in the midst of his realm, his gaseous form churning in on itself, Viris shifted his gaze through the Lifeblood and towards the bustling world of Galbar. The cause of him, the effect. One of many, granted, but still one nonetheless. Scanning the planets surface, he drifts past glen and dale, observing all upon which his gaze falls, till he finally finds the thing for which he is searching.

A vessel, one who went by the name of Ibel. A humble man from what he could tell, though one who'd been through untold loss, the memories of which still haunted him. The perfect instrument in which to place his trust and his soul. Part of it anyway. As he had learned from the board in Antiquity, the gods themselves were unable to enter Galbar. Something to do with it destabilizing the Lifeblood. As such he needed a way to interact with the mortals he'd been watching all this time. One that, preferably, didn't tear reality asunder. Thus he had turned to avatars. Well, an avatar anyway, as he doubted he'd need more than one for the time being. It was here that the board had been most helpful, as it detailed the exact way one went about making them. Gathering up his soul, which to the outside observer appeared as a dim glow that slowly grew in intensity, he fractures it. Cradling the broken piece in his opaque hands, Viris raises it on high and casts it down to the world of mortals below, an act that goes unseen by all save the gods themselves...


When the crystal landed near Ibel, it did so silently. So much so that he didn't even notice it at first, and would have passed it by had it not dug into the bottom of his foot. Setting aside his rope, Ibel bent down to retrieve it, examining its prismatic surface in slack-jawed awe. He eventually overcomes this shock however, and quickly moves to gather his things, when something stops him. It wasn't a voice or person, or even an identifiable feeling, yet it gave him pause all the same. Taking it out of his fur bound pack, he brings the rock up to his face and begins staring longingly at its core, the odd feeling from before growing even stronger. The glow within it growing ever brighter... until, all of a sudden, it ceased. The glow faded along with the crystal, both falling into nothingness along with his hopes and dreams. Dreams which he... couldn't quite remember. As a matter of fact he didn't remember anything save his name and his purpose. Odd given how he didn't recall having much of one before. But, that hardly mattered. He had a goal now. A mission to perform, even if he had yet to learn what it was, and a lord to please.

And please him he would.

Putting away the rope and taking up his stick, Ibel makes his way out of the woods and back into the open, starting his long trek back to civilization.

Or what counted as such in those most ancient of days...

Alright, here's my actual stab at this since my first fleeting show of interest in Mk3. And yes, I am well aware this sheet could use some work, so please don't hesitate to point out any flaws.

Not in my case, but I at least was planning on waiting till all the other characters show up, that way I can write Remon's perspective during the meeting.
Alright, post is up. It's quite short, but introductions were never my strong suit.
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