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 Sharon – ?????????????????????????????͚͕̟̗̗ͅͅ?̘͍?҉̱͚̤͓̱̠̠??̲̣̠͖??̛̺̼̲̣̠͙͍?̙͖̰̙͉̫?̯̣̖̤̩ͅ?̨?͇̜͔̣̹̮͕͠?̪̞͓?̖?̹̣͇̝͎͢?̛͚͉̪̭̠?̭͈͓̤?̼̝͕̫̻̻͔?̼͈̼̳̪̥??̪̙̲͘?̖?̪̺͚͝ͅ?̶̩̖̘̱͕̘̙͟͝?̼͖̮̲̝͝?̵̛͙̭͚͟?̙̺̝̖̞͙̩͉̙̕?̜͍͢?̸͈͖͕͎?̝̩̭͍͈̪͖͍͘?̨̭̫̱̞̩̠?̛̥̙̼̞̥̫̝̠͟?҉͎͙̠̘̻̗̩̰̩?̨̙͕̺̣̭͉̭͞?̹̯̼͢ͅ?̣͔͙?̹̘̩͙͚͔͞͝?̨̢̝̞̩̲?̷͕̠̣̣̮?̬͖̻͇͙?̦̬?͖̗?̡̨̞̤̞̯͔̰̲ͅ?̴̻̰̮̫̩̬̜̰?̸̡͚̩?̪͎̀?̸̙̖̲̙͍̬ͅ?҉̟̰̞̣̤̙̗̝?̡̕͏̦̼?̳͉̼̟̀?͓͎?̵̴̧̩̜̟̞̣͡?̴̧̛̜̻̬̪͚͢?̧̼̤͎̯̬̜̤͎̦͇̺̰͠?͢͜͏͡͏̣͚͓̼̰̠͚͙̯͙̳ͅ?̙̩͇͉̹̺̲̱̝̜͘?̶̸̢̧̦̗̣̺̼̤͇͘?̢̝̠̘͈̲̲͕̝̦̜̺̜͇͖̪̤̥͉?̴̘̖̬̜̦̰͎͔̫́͘͘?҉̷̫͕̞̞̤̠̞̜̠͓̯̠͖͚̝̭̖̟͢͜ͅ?̧̦͖̯͓͎̖͠?҉̴̦̺̻̳͈̖͔̦̠̩̩͠?̷̡̛̥̲̣̫̠̭͎̦̞͉͕̹̺̀?̸̸̡͍̯̞͖͍͖̫̼̜̞̘͓ͅ?̡҉͏̥̘̺̠̘͉͇̘͖̜̹̼̙?͏̷̴̡̦̳̖͙̺͓͎͕̦̫̻̹͢ͅͅ?̷̢͍̹̝̬̟̠͇̦͚̪͈͕̞̪̹͇?̷̨̘̫̖̙͔̭̤͉͕̹͖̝̫̝̗̦̭̖͍̀́?̶͇̯̺͉̱̘̻̣͇͇̜̟̬̜͔͢͡͞ͅ?̴̛̛͖͕͔̯͉̩̖̖̪̜̮̲?̧̦̱̫̖̯͉͈͜?̶͟͏͓͎̮͕̺̲̖̠̹̘̝̦ͅ?̶̖̗͖̭͇̯͘̕ͅ?̵̰̠̘͎͈̭̟̤̥̣̪͖̟̯̼̦͟͝͝?̸̨̢͖̹͖̲̥?̢̖̯͍͖̖̬̜̗̞̕ͅ?͏͏̡̧̥̲̼̘̞͎̺͍͉̲?̡́͏̢̮̲̘̘̯̺̥͖̱̖̣͎̮͡?̴̢̧͈͎͍͙̝͚͎̥̭̞͎̞͜͡ DP: 4/7, Wounds: None These were unknown waters. Well, not exactly. Sharon had seen Gods die before. Gods in pain. So it was not an entirely unknown thing for her. But this was like saying that an ocean was not unknown to you because you've seen a fishbowl. Regardless, she charted a path, a rare, grim determination upon her features. OOC: Defending against Mystery Attack. 1 DP (Transitions to get to safety). 2 HP from Happy Endings (Everything will be fine. Everything must be fine.) Total Defense pool of 2 DP and 3 HP.
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Dec 3, 2021 00:55
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  Mezidec – Intercepting Yeshi at Bergeros' Behest. DP: 4/7, Wounds: Mending Heart In the conceptual realm at the surface of the mountain, just outside the borders of Acca-dead-but-dreaming, a massive tunnel opened, witnessed only by shades, leopards and their mistress. From this lacuna emerged a truly massive manifestation of The Light at the End of the Tunnel, blindingly bright. The torso was liquid magma, the healing break outlined in cooled, semisolid lines. The limbs and extremities were of purest diamond, impossibly hard, impossibly sharp. "Yeshi. I stand at your border. If you continue as you are, you will never attain the rest you seek. You will bring danger to your charges, and undo Bosyak's protections. We need to talk, God to God. I am here to do so, respectful of your haven. For the sake of those you protect, let us parley." ooc: Hello, Yeshi. The Generosity of the Depths has been summoned by the Demigod of Civility and Respect. Let's have a chat.
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Dec 3, 2021 01:07
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By a hair’s breadth, Sharon made her way through the pain and back to ground-level reality. OOC: Escaping the... attack?: 2d6k1+3d6k1 11 vs target 11. Domain: 10, Hunger: 7. No Consequence. Sharon evades harm with a series of muscle-memory death-defying manoeuvres through whatever that was. -  When her feet touched down on her boat again, Haniyu was nowhere to be seen—there was only a finely-dispersed mist of palestar-blue fragments, rapidly being gulped up by a swarm of hefty orange-dappled carp that had appeared from out of nowhere before she’d even returned. One of them peeled away to greet Sharon. “OSU! SORRY MISS, DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE! NAME’S GODOU! WE’RE THE CELESTIAL CARP CORPS! BEST IN THE BUSINESS! MISTER HANIYU CONTRACTED WITH US TO GATHER HIM UP IF HE EVER GOT IN A SERIOUS JAM! I DON’T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE BUT IT LOOKS LIKE A SERIOUS JAM TO ME WHAT WITH THE BIG DEAD THIng way over there and all the mess over here and” He took a deep breath. “AND THE STARDUST THAT USED TO BE MISTER HANIYU! LOOKS LIKE THE LADS ARE JUST ABOUT FINISHED! ANYWAY YOUR PAL’LL BE BACK WITH YOU SHORTLY! AND IF YOU WANT OUR SERVICES JUST LET US KNOW!” The fish handed(???) Sharon a wooden placard with the business’ details and returned to his crew, who promptly vanished. With some peace and quiet—the uncertain state of the titan corpse aside—Sharon could finally pick through the wreckage of the ‘Celestial Astronomer’s’ Skiff and gather up the parts of his notes that survived. What she could glean made clear just how... ambitious the Celestial (Lesser)’s plan really was. He didn’t just want to cross the border between the titan and the wider universe, he wanted to cross the border of ‘self’ and ‘other’, permitting the titan’s corpse to more-or-less ‘write’ on the wider universe’s Akashic records, with his device of wheels-upon-wheels as a conceptual interface. And it—technically—worked. The echo of the message persisted. The only problem now was reading it. OOC: Sharon finds enough info to reconstruct Haniyu’s plan, while Godou and co find enough bits of Haniyu to reconstruct Haniyu. You got mail (1) from user: xXx_TitanSelfKiller_xXx. (the carp are literally koi carp, if you were wondering)
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Dec 3, 2021 01:27
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 Bosyak – the Peak 7/7, Wounds: None Bosyak hurled the ice block into a nearby boulder, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The ground around the rock was littered with similar shards of ice, evidence of his innumerous attempts. He could wipe out a city with an avalanche. That was almost effortless. But creating something delicate, beautiful, worthy… quote:God of the Peak, I beseech-- It was about impossible. There was always some small defect, some small imperfection. But he needed perfection. quote:Please-- He rubbed his face and snorted. He’d created a barrier between Nomadland and the Lower Slopes and yet the cries of mortals rose up to his Haven more now than ever. The Nomads were, if not content with their lives, accepting of the harshness of it all, the hostility of their terrain, the simplistic nature of their existence. Further down the mountain, though, the mortals were just so… so chatty. He didn’t understand how the other Gods could stand it. Just constant, constant, constant, constant… Curses, mostly, sure, but also, strangely, prayers. The persistent buzz in his ears was distracting. Irritating. Especially because he had important work to do! It was always worse at the end of Solene’s daily journey. He swatted at the prayers like flies. quote:Please spare us-- “No.” quote:Please spare me-- “No.” quote:Please smite the perfidious city of Gotan-- “No.” quote:Please chain Mezidec, hypocrite-god, within his mountain-heart forevermore-- “No.” quote:Please tell me how I can join your chosen people-- Bosyak paused and peered down the slopes. The mortal was a portly man of Gotan, with purple lips stained from wine. A favored son of a rich, indulgent, yet elderly father. A wastrel who, now that the affairs of business were falling in his lap, wanted nothing more than to continue lazing about. Who thought a life of travel would be easier. Who would die within days on the slope. A fool. “No.” He begin shaping ice once more. quote:Please return my son whom you took in your cold embrace- Bosyak peered down again. One of Mezidec’s artisans. Skilled. Highly skilled. A sculptor. A father. Bosyak felt the pain in the man’s words. His eldest had followed in his footsteps, became a tradesman, married, settled down. The father loved his eldest. The youngest, though, had been stubborn, brash, confrontational, eager, gregarious, generous. The father adored the youngest, seeing himself in every act of youthful defiance. Against the father’s wishes, the second son had gone to war, to earn gold on his own terms, to earn fame and renown but had earned only a freezing end to his life, separated from his regiment, alone. Bosyak also saw the man’s usefulness. He clapped his hands. A fire sprung up in front of him. In front of the fire, the father. The father blinked. Only moments before he had been falling asleep in his bed. He looked around nervously. “This is not a... mmmm... dream, mortal.” The father gasped, pulling his cloak tightly around his shoulders. “Storm-Wielder! Peak-Lord! Dreaded Mountain Tyrant, O Great and Cold! Bosyak’s ears twitched. He didn’t claim those titles. But… it didn’t matter. Sure. Whatever. “Your… mmmm... son,” he said. “His body is buried deep. Untouched by the animals.” Bosyak remembered that this was evidently a point of contention amongst the downslopers. They liked to bury or burn their dead. The Old Ways were more sensible. Leave the body to the mountain. Let it feed into the circle of life. “I praise you,” the father said, pressing his hands to his face and bowing. “I praise you, Mountain Tyrant, for your generosity.” Generosity? Bosyak thought. He wasn’t being generous. He was being descriptive. Oh. Right. He then realized that the mortal thought the burial was intentional. As opposed to the result of slipping off an icy path and careening into a small rock nook right before a storm hit. “You have requested his body.” “O Great and Cold,” the father wept. “I shall praise you until the end of my days. I will honor you with gold. The tithes I pay to Mezidec, I give them to you now, Storm-Wielder, this I swear!” Bosyak snorted. “I have no desire for your…. mmmm... wealth.” “My apologies, Dreaded Mountain Tyrant. Please! Do not smite me! Tell me how I can honor you and it will be done!” Bosyak placed a finger to the mans forehead, showing him memories and plans, the impact causing the man to tremble, his eyes rolling back in his head. After he recovered, he gave a small nod. “I- I can do that, Peak-Lord.” Sharon, the River Some months later, the man suddenly appeared at the River. The effects of rapid relocation were no less dizzying or surprising. Beside him, a thirty meter ice sculpture, covered by a large yak-hair tarp. The man rubbed his forehead. He took a deep breath. “Death-Mother! I bring thee an offering from the Great and Cold!” He had been promised by Bosyak that he would safely return from this place of death. But he couldn’t help to worry. After all, could the Dreaded Tyrant truly be trusted? In his mind, he prayed to whoever was listening. Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me… The dimensional haze slowly dissipated around the man to reveal Sharon’s favorite, tropical scene. “Wow, Death-Mother?”, she lifted her shades as she peered at the man from her tanning spot, “We definitely need to nix that. I’m a lot of things, but a mom I ain’t. Just none of that energy here, you get me?” “Yes.. uh… Death… Queen. Death-Queen.” “Just Sharon’s fine”, she winked. The man made a low, nervous bow. “Thank you, Good and Just Sharon.” “You do you, my guy”, Sharon snorted, “But anyways, what is this about an offering?”, she walked to the ice sculpture, inspecting it, stroking her chin. Then, as if having an idea, she set some fruit and drinks at its base, letting the pleasant chill spread into them. “Excellent”, she laughed, “Well done, mortal! I’ll be sure to thank the guy later for this most thoughtful gift~ “I was thinking about getting a freezer or something but Mortimer kept telling me it would be destabilizingly anachronistic hereabouts. He’ll escort you home.” The mortal cleared his throat and pulled on the yak-hair tarp, revealing his opus: a thirty meter scale model of a boat, with Bosyak and Sharon at the helm, their hands overlapping. Each individual piece of Bosyak’s fur, every contour of Sharon’s face, every minute detail captured perfectly, a snapshot from Bosyak’s memory. He took a step back, clearly terrified of her and proud of his work in equal measure. “Oh, and it’s cute too”, Sharon clapped her hands, clearly delighted, “Great~” The mortal bowed again. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he could force his stomach to settle for the return trip. Bosyak – the Peak The man staggered, falling to his knees and only barely catching himself on a rock. He looked up at saw Bosyak rubbing his hands together. “Did she…. mmmm.... Like it?” “Yes, O Great and Cold,” he said. “I- I think she liked it. A lot. She- she used the words… uh… ‘Great.’ And… uh… ‘Cute.’” Bosyak nodded and clapped his hands together. The man found himself once more in his bed. He felt something cold against his back. Rolling over, he gasped. Then he screamed. Face to face, he was, with the frozen body of his youngest son. OOC: Commissioning a mortal to create an epic sculpture of ice, imparting (temporarily) some control of the Domain of Snow in order to better facilitate it’s creation. In exchange, he will answer a prayer and the body of the man’s son will be returned to him from his resting place on the peak. As for the sculpture itself, it is being gifted to Sharon. As long as Bosyak is on good terms with Sharon, the gift will automatically imbue one point from the Hunger for Companionship to all of her actions. However, it will also match the HP contributed by any other Gods so that Bosyak is always contributing more.
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Dec 3, 2021 19:08
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Mezidec – Dialogue with Yeshi DP: 4/7, Wounds: Mending Heart A colossal star-eyed leopard bounded from the distant white hills and landed with silent grace at the gates of Acca. Dream-shades scattered like rats, but they were not the prey this time. Yeshi prowled back and forth as she spoke, eyes following every hint of Mezidec’s motion: “You disrespect my god so freely! His great work is profound and unstoppable. The warmongers will never undo it. As for me, I will rest when I am done, and I will be done when these flat lands and their feeble settlements are bone-pits for my children to gnaw. These kings are just the beginning.” She froze perfectly still, her frost-cloaked side arced around the city wall like another wall of fur, muscle, and ice, her teeth bared. “But, speak if you must.” By way of answer, Mezidec cupped the past in his hands of diamond, divine memory on display. Mezidec and Bosyak, Bosyak and Mezidec, over hundreds of years, over time immemorial. The agreement that united them, the gifts they had given one another, together at the peak, together at the Heart of the Mountain, community and hospitality, hospitality and community. The message was as clear as the purest crystal: the ties of the Gods of the Mountain were no flickering, ephemeral, mortal thing. To even claim that one disrespected the other was to insult both, and the sheer work both had put in over time scales vast to a former mortal. “I do not speak lightly, and I do not speak from ignorance. You have become that which you sought to destroy, for you have crossed the boundary of the peak and the slopes, to exploit the resources and people you find for your own ends.” “I’m no thief! My children don’t need the so-called wealth of these cities. They don’t need walls and stone houses, and places stuck in the dirt, and the wheel and the flame of the world below. They only need these people to be gone. Forever.” She lashed her tail and turned head-on to Mezidec, teeth dripping gore. “These people never rest. They take and take and take and their bellies are never full. They’ll take until the earth is naked and empty and then they’ll eat the dust that’s left and die. I will rest when I am done. That’s the difference between me and them. Between me and you.” “You are right. I will not rest, it is not in my nature. The mountain endures in all things. You are wrong. The end state you describe for these people is identical in both cases. Dead. Gone forever. Having eaten the dust they have scoured, or ended by you. You disrespect Bosyak’s work so freely: the barrier he placed between the peak and the slopes is profound and unstoppable, it will not be breached by mortal means this age. In trying to bring about a state that you have claimed will already happen, namely the death of those on the slopes, you are being inefficient and creating busywork for yourself, trying to justify your labors by doing work that has already been done, that you may take credit for Bosyak’s earlier efforts. All those currently on the slopes will die long before Bosyak’s barrier may be passed, barring divine intervention. You know this to be true. Those on the slopes will take and take and take until they ultimately die as you described. You know this to be true. So, Bosyak’s realm is safe. So, those on the slopes will die. So, what purpose do you currently serve? What difference are you making to those two facts?” “God-made-of-Man... of course you don’t know how dangerous a cornered, wounded, dying beast can be. Beasts is what these people will become, and when they’re eating the dust of the world, I do not think they will die quietly.” She arches her back, eyes wide and reflecting the heat and light of Mezidec’s form back at him as she approaches the threshold of the Maw. “But they die quietly enough for my liking when I and my children crush their windpipes. Leave, Mountain Bones. Get out of my nest.” “Strange, to hear you fear beasts. That’s an interesting metaphysical tether to a mortal form you have there…” Mezidec turned, and let his manifestation dissipate. It seems a second talk with Bosyak was in order.  Mezidec – Calling in favors from Sharon and Bosyak, discussing Yeshi and the new Demigod-to-be Conceptual communication tunnels to the surface, peak and the river, as Mezidec called in his markers. "Bosyak, Brother Snow. Sharon, Grand Psychopomp. Bergeros, Warden of the Outer Slopes. I invoke our ties and ask for help. Bear witness to that which passed between myself and Yeshi." The memory is duly gifted to them. "This is a mortal who is defying death through temporary divinity. She has stated her intent to murder the entire population of the outer slopes, far exceeding the remit of that divinity. The Warden of the Outer Slopes has called upon me to resolve this issue. My request, then, is twofold. I intend to create a demigod of consecration, repair and peace, to quell the voices of mortals directed to Bosyak's inaccessible realm, to tend to the shrines of the peak, and to reinforce the interior of the mountain. This is where I would intend our power to be directed. However, this mission is doomed with Yeshi's desire to murder everything. Thus I ask that her mortal form, prolonged far beyond its allotted time, be gifted to Sharon that it may go on its long delayed journey down the river, the temporary gift of divine essence repurposed to the new demigod creation we will bring about." ooc: Bosyak, Sharon, Bergeros, let's solve this problem.
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Dec 3, 2021 21:13
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The Yeshi Summit The call had gone out, the matter laid before the gods and demigod of the Mountain and of death. But what would their resolution be? Sharon was already there, and had been talking for a while. "So, to reiterate", Sharon sipped on some wine (feeling classy~) as she explained to those assembled, "I can use Yeshi's mortal shell as an anchor to pull with to grant her peace, but it's not actually the most important part here. That would be her Soul. And whatever mortal essence she once had, is far, far dwarfed by the chaotic ball of Divinity she is furiously clinging to. And to contest that Divinity by force would be akin to battle between Gods. Rarely ends well. If you wish for me to take her away amicably, that can only happen once she's ready to let go by herself." "So, sure, I'll be there, and I'll be ready to pounce the moment she is ready. But convincing her of that is something we'll have to do first." “It won’t be easy,” replied Mezidec. “You have witnessed my attempt, and her response. So much fear, of what they could become, of the potential for their absolute worst natures. How do we soothe that?” “You can’t,” Bergeros snapped, then drew his robes about himself to reclaim some dignity. “Civilised people do not soothe wild beasts that hunt and kill them. They burn them out of the brush and kill them in turn.” Sharon raised an amused eyebrow, “Curious rhetoric. Reminds me of a guy I know who just got eaten by some carp. Great stuff.” Bosyak, sitting on his rock at the Peak, spoke. “She isn’t… mmmm… wrong. The Old Ways are simple. The News Ways are not.” He shifted slightly in his seat. “I won’t break the honor of my Hospitality by surrendering her mortal form. Understand, I do, that her actions have caused you distress, Enricher. But these people, these interlopers, they are not within the mountain. I find your care for them.... mmmm… curious.” “They are in the remit of the Warden of the Outer Slopes, Circlemaker. The Warden of the Outer Slopes called upon our ties of family and community to ask for my help. I am beholden by my nature to answer that call. But you do raise an interesting point: The soothing of wild beasts that hunt and kill. The term they use is ‘domestication’.” Bosyak’s shoulders straightened. His face, though, remained emotionless. “For you all, a consideration,” he said. “We kill them ourselves. That will sooth her. The slopes can be repopulated. With better seed. And better guidance, the caring hand of the… mmmm… Warden.” “I will not take part of the mass slaughter of mortals”, Sharon’s voice was cold, “and if this enters our consideration, consider my participation in the plan rescinded.” Bosyak snorted. The God of Death, hesitant in its execution. Still. He would not go against her wishes here. “Understood,” he said. “Then another way.” Mezidec mused, “A couple of possibilities spring to mind, though both are on the far edge of innovation. One, we depopulate the mountain safely. We take them all temporarily below the surface, every last living being, thus ending her remit. Two, we commingle the jaguarkind and slope dwellers, so that all her offspring are of slopedwellerkind, and all of slopedwellerkind are akin to her offspring.” “...”, there was a curious mix of befuddlement and a pure grimace on Sharon’s face as she listened, “I do not think trying to trick her with a rules technicality is going to soothe her”, she sighed, “How about… we approach her not as a puzzle to be solved? But as an afraid woman who wants to keep her people safe?”, Sharon cast her eyes at Bosyak, “Why don’t you approach her? She respects you, the most of us. Have you even tried to see what would happen if you ensure her you will not let what she is afraid of to pass?”, she looked at everyone present, “That seems like the most logical place to start, no?” “No,” Bosyak said. “I have not tried this.” And why would he? If he did not explicitly approve of her continued actions, he certainly didn’t disapprove of them either. “And that does seem… mmmm… logical. Though she may simply go to sleep. And wait. I find this acceptable. But my understanding is that a more permanent solution is desired.” “I am unsure that she can grasp the essence she has been granted again if she ever lets go”, Sharon spoke, “And I do intend to escort her Soul the moment that becomes feasible. She is still fundamentally a mortal, deep down.” Bosyak’s ears twitched. “You can keep her remains, if you want, I do not actually need those for my job.” “For you all, another consideration,” Bosyak said. He looked at Mezidec. “You spoke of tricks. Perhaps, should our… mmmm… logic fail, we employ one. This will require the Celestial Sisters and their Secrecies.” He leaned forward. “If you are unwilling to kill the mortals and she is unwilling to leave while they live, could we not simply hide them? Blind her to their presence?” ”Already covered that possibility,” answered Mezidec. “That’s hiding them in the mountain with an extra step.” He glanced towards Sharon. “Which is trying to trick instead of trying to treat her as a person, yes?” Sharon was rubbing her temple by this point, “Yes, that is correct.” Bosyak shrugged. “Then if talk fails, she continues as is.” “There is another possibility. She venerated and respected you, Bosyak. She obeys the instructions you gave her. The problem is not that she desires to kill all interlopers, it’s that she goes beyond the peak to murder anyone that might potentially be an interloper at some point.” Commented Mezidec. “So, what if you told her to confine her efforts to the peak, to restrict herself to actual interlopers rather than constructing a fantasy of unlimited, unending interlopers who have never gotten within sight of the peak?” Bosyak nodded. “Attempt this, I will.” “A guardian deity is like, a million times better than a genocidal one”, Sharon nodded, “Though her being granted peace would be the best option, that would also be… fine, I suppose.” “So, we have our first course of action. If Bosyak is unable to keep her within their demesne, we will need to reconvene. Any further ideas or shall we proceed with that, and if it succeeds, go ahead with the Demigod?” offered the Light at the End of the Tunnel. Bosyak looked at Sharon. He stopped just before speaking and simply gave her a small nod. “Right”, Sharon returned a sympathetic smile right back, “Talking is good. I can go with, if you want.” “What is… mmmm… desired is not what is best.” Sharon’s presence could complicate things. He would do it alone. “I thank you for the offer.” Sharon nodded, “Ok. I’ll trust you with this one. Just try to remember that she is barely a god, in matters of age and temperament. Her sensibilities are likely not quite like ours, just yet.” “She is like us,” Bosyak said. “Remember, you’re a bit of an... interloper yourself.” He gave her a successful wink. Sharon laughed, but not in a mean way, “That’s… not exactly what I meant”, she exhaled, “But sure. Let’s hope you’re right about that, for her sake, and ours.”
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Dec 3, 2021 23:04
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Bosyak – the Peak, with Yeshi 7/7, Wounds: None Bosyak sat on his rock, watching the snow, and waited for Yeshi to answer his summons.. Her form loped silently, gracefully across the wintery expanse. He greeted her with a nod. "Mother Murder," he said. "Well named. You do… mmmm… good work." Between them lay a twitching mortal. Bloody, with broken legs. "For you, a…" He snorted. "Noble son of the interlopers." Yeshi crouched low, her weight and warmth creating a depression in the snow that provided at least a bare minimum of shelter from the wind. Two of her ethereal children emerged from nowhere, eyeing the mortal and salivating. She batted the scion to one side and her children descended upon him. “Thank you, Brother Yak. Now… why have you called me? To defend against Mountain Bones—” she stomped the rock of the Peak for emphasis “—or for some other reason?” Bosyak paused for the Old Ways. The ritual exchange of gifts to demonstrate trust and safety. When nothing was returned… Insult? Oversight? Has she gone to beast? Or does she view me paternally? That would not require an exchange… He would need to ponder this but did not have the time to do so at the moment. He cleared his mind. "You have defended your people well," he said. "But the others, they do not… mmmm… appreciate you. I have been asked to deliver your mortal form." He did not state his refusal to do so. He didn't need to. She was, after all, nomad. She understood the sanctity of Hospitality. That he would no more surrender her body than he would his own. "Displeased, they are by your advancement down the slope. They do not understand. They would move against you. In doing so, they would move against… mmmm… me." He paused. "Outnumbered, we would be." He let that implicit threat to the peak, the nomads, linger. "A consideration, for you," he said. "You have cowed the interlopers for a time. Stay within the Nomadlands. Wait. Watch. React. Or slumber here, conserve your energy, and be awoken when either the threat is greater. Or the… mmmm… opportunity." Her eyes narrowed and her breath froze in the air. “If they’re cowed, they’re weak. All the more reason to hunt them down. But…” she looked over at the two children with her. They were licking steaming blood off their jowls. What was once a man was now a stain in the snow. She turned back to Bosyak. “...if you think it right, then let it be so.” "I do." For a moment, there were no great leopards on the peak, just the hazy facsimile of a nomad woman. “Circlemaker! Thank you for your hospitality, and your gracious gift for my children. Please accept this, in turn.” The figure holds out a sash of embroidered silk, the kind nomad men wear about their waists. Covering half of it are four elaborate designs: the first one resembles clasped hands, or roots growing together; the second resembles a gathering, water, and fire; the third, birds circling in pairs; the fourth and final, perhaps a yurt surrounded by prowling cats. Each design covers only an eighth of the sash, however, leaving the second half an empty expanse of ice-blue. If Bosyak were to guess, the figure’s face darkened momentarily. “I… don’t know why I created this so. The number and patterns came to me. Perhaps… I thought perhaps you might know.” As Bosyak takes the sash, it appears much bigger in his hands—fit for his size. He put it on and began to speak in gratitude but... Then there was only the leopard, disappearing under the anonymous snow. Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 16:45 on Dec 4, 2021 |
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Dec 4, 2021 16:39
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  Ur-Shushan. Questions rise with smoke from incense burnt in a poor scholar’s boarding-house room. Blasphemy to some, comedy to others, irrelevant to yet more still: quote:A divine seeker has shared and amassed a vast quantity of mortal secrets over his life, and so dares to ask: "From where did the gods spring? Were you once as mortal as we?" OOC: Here’s a ‘prayer’ directed mainly at Mona, but also concerning Solene, Bosyak, and Mezidec. Anyone can answer (even Sharon, the outsider) for 1DP each (just 1 for Solene and Mona together though). - Every king and queen, every benevolent monarch, every post-revolutionary committee, every supreme leader, every prophet-lord and philosopher-tyrant in the nations of the lowlands... they would all be dead, if not for Bosyak’s unwilling intervention. As it was, only half the bloodlines and councils were food for the leopards. Grasping, thieving murderers and cabals quickly filled the power vacuums, and were marginally worse for their nations than many of the previous rulers. The strange thing was, the tyrants both old and new alike had a tighter bond than ever before. They saw themselves as a solid core, each deserving to rule, each threatened by the same things: rebellion from within, and divinity from without. OOC: Yeshi’s hunt is interrupted by Bosyak’s intervention (not that he particularly meant to stop it). The majority the nations of the world are effectively beheaded, creating power vacuums that swiftly fill with (often) worse people. However, it also begins to unify the rulers of (most of) the nation-states, as they see themselves as a single class under threat not only from rebellion within but also divine action without. - OOC: just adding this to say the statue action is acknowledged and will have the effect described at the end of the original post. -  Bosyak’s blow demonstrated the power of cold, but the clanking mortal engines increasingly common these years demonstrated the utility of heat. No god was watching the nascent industry of Concordia perhaps so intently as Tectamus. Even he, in all his desire for isolation, knew the benefit of learning from others. Some mortal miners swore they saw that legendary figure, the candle-eyed golem god, on the outskirts of the city or wandering the disused tunnels of the MTP-STN, and they felt safer for his presence, but in truth, they were already safe enough, and he was only there to watch them work. He called silently, but not wordlessly to his father, the seed of an idea crystallising in his mind. All he needed was heat—fuel—the substrate for a divine engine. OOC: Tectamus is asking for a contribution (colour-wise: a permanent ball of magma, rules-wise: 1DP) to the reconstruction of the Pictogram Chamber. - Another messenger bird found its way, against all odds, into the Heart of the Mountain. Dear father, I must take back my earlier words, in part. The bloodshed the god-beast wrought on the political apparatus of these nations has left fertile ground for new cooperation. I have, not without some difficulty, established a network of letters between diplomats of every nation. They trust and favour the messenger-birds I provide over arduous journeys through territory that may be under the control of bandits—or worse. It is a shame that we cannot combine the nomads into this union, that they might benefit as well, but I understand that the circumstances disfavour this possibility. Regardless, these are early days, but I hope the seeds sown here will sprout and blossom into a more perfect union that looks to Concordia with the same pride and respect with which I look inward at you. Your faithful son, Bergeros The bird pecked a few times at the rock floor, then flew away into the shadowy tunnels and beyond. OOC: Instituting the Union of the Plains: 2d6k1+2d6k1 9 vs target 9. Domain: 9, Hunger: 6. No Consequence. Bergeros uses the momentum of recent events to institute the Union of the Plains. For now, this is more of a union of letters and spirit, not concrete places and actions, but the rapid communication makes disputes somewhat easier to resolve, among other benefits. - DP status: Bosyak: 8/7 ----- (+1 for prayer) Mezidec: 4/7 Solene/Mona: 4/7 Sharon: 3/7 ----- (-1 for defending (previous post)) Tectamus: 2/3 Bergeros: 2/3 ----- (-1 for political cooperation)
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Dec 4, 2021 17:29
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Mona - Ur-Shushan DP 4/7 Wounds 0 Mona is delighted by this latest prayer. The mortals always ask the strangest questions, never quite what she expects. That leaves the great question of how to answer. She likes the story, even though it is not true. Does that really matter? She comes down to Ur-Shushan that same night. It had been a while, this is the first time she set foot on the mountainside since her Sundering. As she walks to the boarding house, her true nature hidden from the mortals around her, she appreciates the breeze carrying with it the smells and sounds of the city. She does not knock at the seeker's door, but walks in and reveals herself to him. "I enjoyed your stories very much knowledge-seeker. We have never been mortals, but we also have not always been gods. The details are too complicated for a single mortal lifetime, but your tales capture the gist. Do not consider them as absolute truth, but keep on dreaming, keep on writing and keep on thinking. There are kernels of truth in your stories, seek out other dreamers and share your stories, compare them, sift through them and maybe one day one of your descendants will understand it all." Solene and Mona - The Fortress of Dusk and Dawn Mona pushes the newly reinforced door of the Fortress closed behind her. Solene was waiting for her in the foyer. They hug and discuss the events of the night. There was a short period of absolute darkness between night and day now, a short moment during which no one was walking above. Solene and Mona have decided to spend a moment together at each after each dusk and before each dawn, a moment to themselves, together in the restored Fortress. Solene - The Celestial Path Solene walks along, thinking about the recent divine events they both missed out on. She does not regret it, restoring the Fortress was necessary. She frowns towards the snow-capped peaks. towards Bosyak and Yeshi. She had been so preoccupied with Sharon and the intrusions from beyond the world, that she had lost track of the disasters coming from within. She does not want to confront Bosyak or Yeshi directly, nothing good would come of that, they are too proud, too animalistic. What she will do is take precautions to try and prevent anything like this from happening again. Just like she had reinforced the Fortress. First, speed up the unification of the lowlands, so that they can offer a united front. The union of the plains is a great idea, but the tightest bonds are those of family. Maybe it was time to put some of Mona's secrets to work, figure out who is willing to marry who and how many webs can be woven between the different nations. Second, Yeshi remains a threat. Walls and fire keep away wild beasts, maybe divine walls and divine fire can help against divine beast. Solene conjures up some of her light and guides it down onto the surface, circling the mountain. A faintly shimmering border, perfectly permeable to everyone but Yeshi and her spawn. Should they try to cross into the lowlands, solar fire will bar their way. It will at least warn the gods and mortals of their approach. OOC: 2 actions. 1) Play matchmaker to create as many alliances by blood as possible between the people of the plains. Using 1 DP with Unity and Secrets. 2) Erect a barrier that will hopefully lock Yeshi out, but more likely will just slow her down and give us a heads up if she springs back into action. Using 2 DP with Unity and Light and 2 HP with Safety, this one is more hunger-driven and probably a bad idea.
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Dec 4, 2021 20:15
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Mezidec – In the Heart of the Mountain, answering a Prayer DP: 4/7 >3/7, Wounds: Mending Heart quote:Please chain Mezidec, hypocrite-god, within his mountain-heart forevermore— Kariarchus of Loom was walking by himself when a tunnel opened up beneath him, providing a gentle but inexorable slide right into the heart of the mountain. Before him was a manifestation of Mezidec in homely granite, pebbled for features and manipulation. As ever, the Heart shaped itself to the needs of its occupants, providing a soft landing and comfortable furnishings of appropriate size. "Welcome, Kariarchus, faithful to my esteemed peer Bosyak, to the mountain-heart of Mezidec the..." He made a show of consulting a tablet, "'Hypocrite-God', I believe it was. If I might offer advice, when you invoke the name or epithets of a divinity in prayer, they can hear that prayer. I'm curious as to why you would level that accusation, but I am magnanimous in my nature and will not hold it against you. Behold my Heart laid bare, and behold the things I most treasure, the gifts of Bosyak among the most prominent. There exists an agreement between us, one we both try to respect absolutely, and one for which we both offer amends for any breaches. He atop the mountain, and I within. In asking him to come here and chain me, you ask him to violate both my hospitality and our agreement, which is antithetical to Brother Yak. Please be more considerate of the deities you choose to worship. Now, since you're here and faithful to the Circlemaker, I have a task for you. Bosyak made his realm unreachable as is his prerogative, but in the process caused harm to Concordia, as we call our great undermountain city, and to this Heart. Most has been repaired, save for the greatest of treasures I possess. Bosyak himself selected eight identical snowflakes, completely natural, and gifted them to me. One of them went missing in the upheaval. Now, it remains contained within a microtunnel that keeps it from damage or melting, but it is not presently within the heart. Find it, and I shall be thankful, and will return you to the surface directly." OOC: 1 DP for the wealth that this snowflake represents, 1 hunger for the recognition prideful Mezidec requires, invested in this supplicant to go sort out the missing snowflake problem. *** Mezidec – In a poor scholar’s boarding-house room in Ur-Shushan, answering a 'Prayer' DP: 3/7, Wounds: Mending Heart Applause, if you can call it that, a pair of stone-hewn hands banging together, the Kindly Shelter having emerged from a discreet lacuna. "Very creative! Not accurate is the slightest, but I can appreciate a good tale, for an interesting story is a true treasure, and sharing one can bring a community together. As far as I am concerned, feel free to speculate as to my origins as much as you like, in as many different ways as you please, but I advise you to make it clear when you do so that these are fictions. So long as you do so, proceed with my blessing, and make your fortune by doing so." *** Mezidec – At the Pictogram Chamber, answerin Tectamus' request DP: 3/7 > 2/7, Wounds: Mending Heart Mezidec answered the call swiftly, tunnelling down to the chamber and manifesting with the requested magmatic core as part of his configuration. "Of course, my child. I am proud of your work and your studies, and am happy to contribute that which you ask." He positioned his body in accordance with Tectamus' design, and then left it, core blazing in perpetuity as the Light at the End of the Tunnel went back up to the Heart. ooc: Parent/Child bonding activity, 1DP from Community. Hunger available on request but trusting Tectamus' choice there. AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 20:53 on Dec 4, 2021 |
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Dec 4, 2021 20:50
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The blinding light of the sun is not a subtle thing. Solene’s appropriation of her sister’s secrets proved unfortunately clumsy. People were discomfited by the conveniently beautifying sunbeams that shone on those their family praised as marriage prospects, and bonds that would’ve joined families together instead melted away. The eye of day even felt overbearing to those deeply in love, who instead met one another under the less overtly intrusive eye of night. The blinding light of the sun is a harsh and undeniable thing. The wall of light was a fiercely powerful and in some ways indiscriminate thing. It melted away snow, desiccated plants, turned soil to dust in a narrow ring around the mountain. Winds whipped up the loose earth into parching, abrasive storms. People called that place the Deadlands. It all had to be abandoned for safer climes below. Villages became ghosts became ruins. Reverence for the sun declined, and over time practices connected with Solene were only tolerated because of her bond with her sister. OOC: Matchmaking among the mortals: 2d6k1+1d6k1 6 vs target 7. Domain: 3, Hunger: 4. Consequence. You can force this into a success with a Consequence, as it would’ve been a success at the next target down. Shielding the lowlands: 3d6k1+3d6k1 9 vs target 9. Domain: 6, Hunger: 12. Consequence. Combination of the two Consequences: Solene fails to effectively matchmake between the diverse mortals of the lowlands, and instead people begin to distrust and ignore her. Meanwhile, her barrier works, but the heat forces mortals living near it to evacuate down the mountain. Together, these actions come at the cost of her reputation among mortalkind—if she cares about that sort of thing. Note: this is a bit of a tricky action to figure out (e.g. is it an asynchronous Interference?) but here’s how I’m taking it: if/when Yeshi comes out of hibernation, it’ll take her a while before she can act in the lowlands. Her children will also be fully locked out until someone actually breaks the barrier. extra note: please ignore that the action text on orokos reads the same as the matchmaking one, I forgot to update it when I rolled - Few have the strength to deny or denounce a god face-to-face. Kariarchus was not one of them. He was so terrified of his soul being trapped in Mezidec’s grasp forever, never reaching the release of the River, that he never considered the option of suicide. There was only one way out, he reasoned; do the bidding of the god. Find the snowflake. The good fortune invested in him by the wealth-god swiftly collided with the utter impossibility of the task ahead. Time after time, his hunches that seemed so well-founded turned out to be wrong. Time after time after time, luck led him down paths that went round in circles, or coiled into dead ends. Time after time after time after—at some point, time abandoned him, turning left when he went right at a fork in the path. First time, then space, then sanity. Now and then, years apart, travellers off the safe routes of the MTP-STN sighted a bedraggled man muttering as he clambered with callused hands up to a tunnel or down some crevasse. None ever got close enough to speak with him before he disappeared into the guts of the mountain again. Later, as he worried for the nth time that he was starting to lose his grip on where and when and who he was, he just so happened— —to stumble upon— —yet another empty chamber with only one way in. And, as it happened, zero ways out. Just as surely as the snowflake vanished, so too did Kariarchus. OOC: Sending Kariarchus on a wild snowflake chase: 2d6k1+2d6k1 8 vs target 7. Domain: 5, Hunger: 6. Consequence. Mezidec sends Kariarchus on a wild goo—uh, snowflake chase through the mountain. The combination of the good fortune granted by his blessing and the utter impossibility of finding the snowflake drives him insane. Then he, too, disappears. - Mezidec’s particular manner of fulfilling Tectamus’ request gave him a limited and lingering awareness of his son’s design. This was what he saw before it dimmed and disappeared: First, the outer shell of the former Pictogram Chamber had been carefully cleaved from the mountain, leaving a void in which Tectamus’ Haven was suspended by divine might. Second, the interior was changed almost beyond recognition. The result was a marvel inspired by—but an epoch beyond—the steam power of Concordia. Eight enormous spherical layers of brass pipework lay between the outer stone shell and the magma core, girded by walkways and ladders that allowed access to any point. The pictograms themselves, once carved into seamless stone, had been separate into neatly-cut blocks, and the outermost lattice was studded with millions of them. Third, the structure was colossal, but the magic was in the motion: driven by magma, powered by steam, directed by valves opening and closing in accordance with some unknown algorithm... the pictograms moved across the lattice like the spheres of an orrery. They formed chaotic, yet poetic phrases everywhere they met. There were... imperfections, certainly; many places where lines and phrases repeated in ways unconventional or nonsensical. Though Tectamus gazed thoughtfully at the former, he snatched the latter blocks and hastily replaced them from whatever mound of spare blocks was closest. The great work was not yet complete, but the design? The engine? That much was done. All that was left was the refinement of technology and the contemplation of poetry. One outer layer was a work-in-progress. The seven inner layers remained empty. OOC: Redesigning the Pictogram Chamber: 3d6k1+2d6k1 11 vs target 9. Domain: 15, Hunger: 11. No Consequence. Tectamus transforms the Pictogram Chamber into the Lyric Matrix (which is a WIP). Furthermore, in his Domain, Paths becomes Patterns, and in his Hunger, Constancy becomes Infinity. - DP status: Bosyak: 8/7 Mezidec: 4/7 ----- (+2 for prayers, -1 for snowflake search, -1 for helping Tectamus) Solene/Mona: 2/7 ----- (+1 for prayer, -1 for matchmaking, -2 for divine wall) Sharon: 3/7 Tectamus: 1/3 ----- (-1 for redeveloping Haven) Bergeros: 2/3 UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 21:51 on Dec 5, 2021 |
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Dec 5, 2021 21:25
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Mezidec – In the Heart of the Mountain, Shaping a Demigod DP: 4/7 > 2/7, Wounds: Mending Heart A metaphysical tug upon Bosyak and Sharon, an awareness of promised debts coming due. A more tenuous one upon Bergeros, a request of a single portion of their power to represent the coverage of their demesne. Then to work: the impetus here was a divinity to aid in both Bosyak's region, the surface and within the mountain, bolstering defences and structures, sanctifying and consecrating shrines and holy places, able to chip in when the Circlemaker wished to make a new one, and enforcing the separation of the border from all threats, mortal or divine, up or down, protecting both sides. Sharon's mastery of thresholds was a vital contribution as well. As bevore, Mezidec gathered the substance from the area they were to protect. "Arise, Warden of the Boundaries. Arise, Finibus. Arise, our child." ooc: Contributing 2 DP from community and wealth, asking for Bosyak's 2 DP, Sharon's 1 DP and 1 DP from Bergeros. Hunger to be calculated after all external contributions are finalised given the effect of Bosyak's gift to Sharon. Domains of Consecration (The sanctification of places sacred to God or mortal, keeping them holy), Repair (Setting right what was damaged, restoring what was lost, preventing further damage) and Peace (Preventing the loss of lives through violence or conflict; the waging of war, or the invading of territories, in that order, by any means necessary.) Hungers of Domestication (Soothe the savage, honour the home, maintain the rites), Religion (The ways of Gods are above the ways of mortals, be obedient and devout), and Perfection (Everything can be made better than it was. Perfection cannot be reached but you can always get nearer.)
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Dec 6, 2021 00:48
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Sharon – The Heart of the Mountain with Mezidec DP: 3/7, Wounds: None "You sure like your Demigods, huh", Sharon spoke idly as she wove her power onto the lattice, her tone playful, "Not that it's an inherently bad thing or anything, mind, as long as you watch over them. Demigods can cause more trouble than you might assume just from their stature. It's just that it almost reminds me of how work tends to usually go, in the Worlds we go to. The Yama sets up the afterlives, and then creates Demigods to handle each. Standard pattern stuff." She looked almost wistful as she continued, "I was also standard pattern stuff, back in the day, you know? I'd been just a servitor spirit for quite a few millennia already, now assigned to a somewhat larger World. That place was rear end, let me tell you. An egocentric lot, lots of War Gods and Gods of Industry. Bossman back then had his hands full just trying to avoid Godwar, and to facilitate that it was constant conflict between mortals, basically to substitute Wargames for War, except the mortals were the pawns", she grimaced, "And an issue he had then was that there were just so many dead people that the system was threatening to go over capacity, so he promoted me to Demigod status to lighten that load." She snorted. "Ah, hope you didn't mind me rambling, there? Just got me reminiscing, is all~" ------------- Sharon – Ur-Shushan "And that's basically how it went", Sharon relayed her earlier monologue to a bewildered scholar in their humble abode, "Basically, I kind of want to rid you of this notion of Divine Excellence. Sure, we exist on an ontological tier far beyond your own, with power to shape entire Worlds, but we are subject to similar banalities as you mortals are. There is no reason to elevate us even higher than we already are." She rose from her seat and cracked her neck. "Sure, some of us might have fantastical origin stories, quite a few Gods do, I'm not denying that. Main thing is, whilst stories are fun and all, you probably should focus more on living your own life than dreaming about ours. Deep down, we are not so different from you lot." "Take care." And with that, she was gone. ------------- Sharon – The River "...and so, basically", Sharon was pitching her plan to Bergeros, whom she'd called for a visit, "We just set down the waystones, and I bless them, right? They don't have to be fancy, just a simple rune or symbol on a decent-sized rock will do. Then, travelers can offer a small remembrance for all the people who never reached their destination, pour out a drink for them, and go on their way. The libation will activate the Blessing if they're worthy of it, and they'll be ensured safety on their travels. From stuff like, you know, bandits, corrupt or cruel 'officials', snow leopard attacks, stuff like that." "Basically, the idea is that I'll take care of the actual brunt force of the Blessing, the whole 'ensuring safe passage' part, since that's my thing, right? Your part would be ironing out the whole activation aspect of it. As in, who actually is just a traveler or tradesman trying to make ends meet, or who's a disruptive meddler. Who's on the run because they're unfairly persecuted, and who's trying to flee consequences from actual wrongdoing. That sort of thing. Also, it'd be your job to tell people this is actually now a thing they can do, what with you actually interacting with them more than I do, right?" "What say you?" OOC: Pitching 1 DP to Mezidec's Demigod (from the Domains of Borders and Transitions), not pitching extra HP except what the Statue grants. Answering the prayer. Also, pitching the joint plan to Bergeros, the plan being basically to create a rite of safe passage for peaceful and well-meaning mortals to use, for which I will be pitching 1 DP (from Transitions for obvious reasons), and no extra HP except what the Statue grants. I'll only commit to this action if Bergeros pitches in, too.
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Dec 6, 2021 15:09
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Mezidec – In the Heart of the Mountain, talking shop with Sharon whilst creating Finibus 2/7, Wounds: Mending Heart "Oh, not at all!" Replied Mezidec. "Learning more about where you've come from, what you've witnessed and been part of, it's all very educational. I suppose with creating my children, it's in part something I feel compelled to do as part of my divine remit, the junction of Wealth and Community. From my perspective, you can have all the gold in the mountain, counting it alone in a cold tower or palace, and be the most impoverished soul in the realm. Or you can have none of it, but a large family with strong bonds to one another, everyone hoping and working for the success of everyone else, elders teaching, youngsters discovering and innovating, and in that, have riches beyond compare. I could shape myself out of the rarest of minerals with but a fraction of a thought, so could not accord them truly as treasure. But the artistry of Tectamus, the virtuoso diplomacy of Bergeros, the ritual gift exchanges in accordance with the laws of hospitality and community I share with Bosyak, even our interaction here, that's where my true wealth resides. I am immensely proud as a father of the acts of my offspring, both in their duties and in their self-actualization, thus in creating them I enrich myself and the world in a way incomparable to anything else." Mezidec continued the act of shaping for a while, then added, "While you're here, there is a matter which you should be apprised of. Things have been going missing, untraceably. A fragment of a true treasure for one, but I subsequently gave a divine commission to a mortal who invoked me to locate that, and now they have disappeared as well, soul and all, with no indication as to where. Since their ultimate fate is in your own remit, it is only right I bring this concerning development to you." ooc: Hey Sharon, appreciate the dialogue, also there's a soul gone missing mysteriously.
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Dec 6, 2021 17:02
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Sharon – The Heart of the Mountain with Mezidec DP: 3/7, Wounds: None "Yeah", Sharon nodded, "I was actually wondering about that guy. Weird edge cases like him are always a bit of a pain to deal with." "Speaking of which, I know the guy was being hubristic and all, but please don't make a habit of this, if you don't mind", she laughed, "Would prefer not to have to do more work than necessary." -------------  Sharon – A Dream with Yeshi Sharon was on her boat, sailing through a strange, shifting vista. Somebody not in the know might have mistaken it for Chaotic Space, but that was not true. There was meaning here, and concepts, though free floating and severed from terrestrial logic. It was a space she’d seen before, though it was always a bit different on every World, and went by different names. Dreamworld, The Wake, Mindspace. The Oneiromaterial Demi-lattice, if you were to ask the Celestials. The space was coalescing to more concrete forms. There was a Will, in the distance. Sharon sailed inexorably towards it. Snow began to drift in against her course and ice hemmed in her boat until there was the barest navigable course onwards. Where to, though? The sea and sky were as one white void now, with only a thin band of grey water leading on a tortuous course to the beginning of the dream. Then, in the distance—a flicker of pale amber against the white. Two, side by side. Between them, the air seemed darker. As Sharon drew closer, she saw a tiny island, home to a single yurt with a candle dimly burning either side of the doorway. Her boat gently bumped the rocky shore, and the ice closed up the way she came. Sharon stepped out of her boat, her expression unreadable, carrying a singular bottle of sharys. She walked up to the yurt, but did not yet enter. “Hello”, she spoke softly, “I am Sharon, Goddess of Death and Passage. May I come in?” Suddenly, someone or something pushed her firmly over the threshold. Sharon went with the flow, “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you for your hospitality.” A soft and low snorting laughter echoed behind her. Ahead, she could just about make out two figures in the dark: the shaggy body of a yak and a woman sitting on a stool, milking it into a copper pail. The scattered light from the doorway only extended so far, and the reflection off the snow that piled up in the entrance was just enough to make out the felt-and-silk deel of a nomad woman at work. Sharon walked towards the woman with an even pace. Not so slow as to linger, not so fast as to appear in a hurry, stopping a few steps before her. She set the sharys down on a table, that simply was, and sat down on a seat of her own, that likewise was. They were ebony wood, carved with ornate pictures of kirins, dragons, and other creatures that did not exist here on this world. Extensions of her will, in this alien place. She did not yet serve the sharys. There was a way to drinking it, and no conclusion had yet been reached. No agreement to move forward. “Hello, Yeshi. What are you dreaming of?” No answer. Just the low and rough breathing of two yaks. As her eyes adjusted to the half-light, Sharon began to make out the curve of Yeshi’s face, the details of her deel—embroidered with patterns resembling eight cats’ eyes—and the copper edge of the pail. The liquid that spilled into it was still dark, though. In fact, the more her sight improved, the more unreasonably dark the milk appeared, until she realised that it wasn’t milk at all, but blood. Yeshi worked slowly, methodically, but by then the bucket was close to overflowing. Sharon nodded, “Right, that’s the thing you’re doing. Even Gods dream of the things that take up their existence, I’ve noted. Perhaps even more so than mortals.” She glanced at the pail. “Soon you’ll make a mess. What then? And more importantly, do you want to?” Yeshi stood up, turned—face never towards Sharon—and took the pail outside into the snow, which was now commingled with ash and embers. She emptied it over into the drift. Out of the corner of her eye, Sharon didn’t see a yak-horned figure in the dark, standing over its wounded sibling(?). Yeshi returned and the figure that wasn’t there—it— Out of the corner of her eye, Sharon saw the wheezing yak collapse and plaintively moan a single time, its eyes still glinting in shadow. Yeshi returned and put the pail to one side, then finally seemed to notice the bottle of Sharys. It was uncorked. Empty. “My children,” she said, and turned to Sharon. “Your children will live”, Sharon spoke, “And then they will die. Then their children will live, and then they will die. And in so doing, they will move on.” “So it has always been, and so it shall always be, on this and every World.” Sharon walked over to the yak, squatting down to look it in the eye. “Water and time extinguish flames more readily than blood does”, she continued, “this is both cruel, and unnecessary.” She stood back up, and turned towards Yeshi again. She was not smiling, but her expression was not unkind, either. “Unless it is the blood itself you’re after. You cannot choose both.” “Which one do you really care for?” “Answer honestly, and perhaps I will help you.” White-haired Yeshi lay shivering under a blanket, surrounded by children and adults with their heads bowed in silent hope and fear. She awoke with a lurching grasp at nothing in the air: “My children! My children!” The people all around jolted towards her—“we’re here, grandma”—“lie down now”—“she’s awake! She’s”—“don’t worry, ancestor”—“we”—“are”—“here”— With a last burst of vitality, she staggered up and the pleading, clawing mass fell away like snow. Only voices remained as Yeshi feebly made her way to the door. What little light shone from outside betrayed her now-gaunt face and cratered skin as she looked out upon the world. There was no more snow. A fine mist of earth and dust took its place, extinguishing all the embers and casting the world in a lifeless pallor. With the snow gone, so too was the white veil over the horizon, and now she could see what stood in the distance: mighty stone walls, the walls of Acca, Loom, Ur-Shushan, every city of the plains. No, not standing—they moved ever closer, approaching from every direction, crushing the ice and driving forward a wave of seafoam smothered in cinders. Sharon made out immobile figures atop the walls. As the din of their approach grew louder she could see clearer what those figures were: wretches with parchment skin and limbs like bones, strapped in torture vices that bound their broken hands and feet snapped their mouths open to the air. All they could do was catch the drifting, falling ash and dust like life-giving rain from black sky. “Where are my children!” “Shhh”, Sharon stood next to Yeshi, her youthful appearance a stark contrast to that of the other God. She took her withered hand into her own, and for a moment just stood there with her. “I understand that you’re afraid”, she spoke, softly, “This is natural fear to have. A very mortal fear. For mortals to know and for mortals to act upon. In the hands of a God, though, it is a terrible, frightful thing. Even you know this, deep down. You would not live within these grotesque, lonesome scenes, otherwise.” “In having been made a God, you have already done more for your children than anybody ever should. It wears on you, I can tell, and it wears on them, too”, Sharon smiled, “But you know as I do, that they’re still there. Just elsewhere.” Sharon stared into Yeshi’s tired, old eyes, “They have gone to a place that you know you must go too. But you cannot go, until you let go. And you cannot let go”, she gestured towards the urban apparition, “As long as this keeps you here.” Ever so slightly, Sharon squeezed Yeshi’s hand. “I will help you with one last gift to allay your fears. Not of blood, but whispers and water. Of time and space. There has been enough blood already.” “And then I will take you to see your children. I have met them. They remember you, and they miss you." “But I can only do that if you promise to let go. I know it is hard, but it is something that every mother must eventually do.” Sharon turned to face Yeshi, and placed her other hand on top of the one she was already holding. “Don’t worry”, she whispered with a smile, “I’ll be there with you the whole time. Everything is going to be fine.” “I promise.” Yeshi looked straight through Sharon with eyes sharp as knives. Two mighty snow-leopards encircled her and, despite the rising cacophony of the crushing walls and rasping masses, she shut her eyes and fell into an even deeper sleep under her children’s loving gaze. Leaving Sharon all but alone, surrounded by those screaming walls that blotted out even the feeble half-light from the sky—until someone, or something, wrenched her back into the yurt, where she fell down, and down further, spinning, tumbling as she saw the walls cave in on dream-sleeping Yeshi in her last glimpse through the door of the yurt— Until she landed feet first on her boat, in the River, at sunset, haunted by the low and snorting echo of a laugh. The sharp tip of her scythe’s blade, about the width of her thumb across, had disappeared. Sharon sighed, and shook her head ever so slightly. “This bitterness will shield neither you, nor your children”, there was a strange reverb as she spoke, as if the voice did not quite originate from her, nor was directed towards anyone actually present, “But know that my offer is an earnest one, and that it stands true, regardless of who you view as your progeny.” She sailed off into the distance. OOC: Alright. Pitching my remaining 2 DP (Transitions and Borders) alongside 3 HP (2 from Happy Endings, and 1 from that Statue) at Dreaming Yeshi for a joint action whilst she's still got some of her humanity left. A World-enchantment that disrupts, misdirects and leads to failure any attempts by lowlanders and such to screw around with the Peak dwellers, be those the people or the leopards, with the hope that the combination of that with Bosyak's barrier will lead her to conclude the Peak is safe enough to finally pass on. Final dice pool without assistance being 3 DP and 4 HP, will force a Success if necessary. Action taking place will be predicated on Yeshi taking part. Theantero fucked around with this message at 18:20 on Dec 6, 2021 |
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Dec 6, 2021 18:16
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Bosyak – the Peak 8/7, Wounds: None Bosyak was in a... a funny mood. Unsettled. He held Yeshi's sash. He turned it over. Back again. Look at it for various angles. He was pondering its meaning when he felt the call from within the mountain. Frigid winds blasted through his fur and made the sash dance within in his hands. He glanced down through the rocks and gave a small, imperceptible nod. "What is asked for," he said, "is given." It was a small thing. It did not feel equal. But he would not argue the request. *** OOC: Contributing 2 DP from the Domain of Hearth & Hospitality and 3 HP from the Hunger for Recompense. This is separate from anything contributed by his gift to Sharon. If it matters, he is particularly interested in Consecration (the sanctification of places sacred), the Hunger of Domestication (Honour the home, maintain the rites), and the Hunger of Religion (the ways of Gods are above the ways of mortals, be obedient and devout). If possible, he will turn the Domain of Repair into a Hunger and replace it with either Domestication or Religion. *** His eyes returned to the sash. He stared at it and ran his fingers over the designs. Such intricacy, such delicacy, such beauty. And, yet half-blank. Unfinished. A poignant reminder. His ears twitched, knocking snow down onto his shoulders. What is asked for... He had more than one debt. He stood up slowly and trudged down the slope into the Nomadlands. Snow covered both his tracks and his form. He passed over crags, gaps. ridges, peaks, summits, boulders, frozen corpses. He watched the winding paths, some secret, others more secret still. He observed those who followed in the Old Ways, their laughter, their tears, the sorrow, their joy. Finally, he reached one of Mezidec's collapsed tunnels, the entrance buried under rock and snow. He marked the space in his mind. He continued traveling, further down now. Where the grazing was good. Where, even now, there were sprouts of green emerging from the white. Where the Solene's presence was warm and plentiful. He had not spoken to either of the sisters since... when? They, too, had suffered through his actions. He marked the space in his mind. Bosyak wandered once more, into weathered valleys, the vast expanses, the barren lands, difficult to reach, difficult to live, difficult to traverse. But necessary to make it from part of the mountain to another. A flickering lamplighter floated past him. This was not Mona's territory yet she had given power for the safety of the nomads. How had he shown his appreciation? By breaking her Haven? He marked the space in his mind. "...mmmm..." He had more than one debt. OOC: Spending six DP in three different actions. First, to create the shrine of Meziak, a place of Community. The remains of the tunnel will protect the nomads from the storms and will provide a storehouse where extra or unused food and supplies may be placed for those in need. Where celebrations of gratitude for family and kin may occur. 2 DP from the Domain of Hearth & Hospitality, 2 HP from the Hunger for Recompense. Second, to create the shrine of Solenak, a place of Unity. The land here will be less harsh, the snow less heavy, the storms less prevalent. The nomads can meet in greater numbers, their yaks can intermingle and breed. 2 DP from the Domain of Storms, 2 HP from the Hunger for Companionship. Third, to create the shrine of Monak, a secret place of refuge, where the elderly, too weak to continue the yearly travels but still strong in expertise, may safely stay to converse and compile their knowledge for the betterment of all. 2 DP from the Domain of Snow, 2 HP from the Hunger for Recompense.
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Dec 6, 2021 19:16
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 The assembled gods—save Bosyak—sweat and bled to forge a new divine being, another son of the mountain god, and stepped back to admire their work in the glow of holy flame. But he wasn’t there. At the moon basins of Ur-Shushan and the other lowland cities— Along the waylines of the MTP-STN and its damage report shrines— Among the four shrines of the peak: So-Ceba, Sharys, Yeshiak, and the Final Waystation— In the debating-forum of the Celestial literalists and humanists of Coille Dobhair— In tavern brawls, military barracks, bandit hideouts, assassins’ dens, army encampments— When he travelled, he moved faster than the mortal eye could follow. When he arrived at holy places, he worked tirelessly, maintaining, rebuilding, sustaining the old ways and guiding the new. When he arrived anywhere violence was threatened or practiced and things were at breaking point, he worked relentlessly to broker peace, or force it by hook or by crook if need be. He didn’t have the time to wait around receiving the praise of elder gods when there was work to be done, and there was always work to be done. OOC: Creating the demigod Finibus: 7d6k1+5d6k1 10 vs target 11. Domain: 23, Hunger: 15. No Consequence. However, as per discord, this is gonna be pushed to success with a Consequence. Finibus is created with the combination of Domain and Hunger agreed upon in-thread and on the discord (basically swapping Repair and Religion). quote:
- A well-kept messenger pigeon settled on Sharon’s boat, a letter tied to its leg as usual: Dear Madam Reaper, I write to you in good spirits, and I hope you can receive this letter in the same! Our joint endeavour, the Rite of Safe Passage, has proven a resounding success. A simple expense of water or wine allows one to travel safely between—and beyond—the lowland nations, if their heart is in the right place. We are already seeing an upsurge in travel to and from the embassy-monasteries my first-father established so long ago. Of course, the self-appointed toll-keepers of nearby settlements are unimpressed, but their actions were never in accord with my father’s ambitions. Perhaps one day they will fall in line with the march of progress and give others their due respect. It is no exaggeration to say we have taken the first step to freeing many from the tyranny of the few. Your fellow servant, Bergeros de la Montagne While Sharon read the letter, the bird meandered around the little deck, pecking at snack crumbs and a particularly unfortunate fish that swam too close. OOC: Creating the rite of safe passage: 3d6k1+2d6k1 12 vs target 9. Domain: 11, Hunger: 8. No Consequence. - The border of peak and lowland was swiftly becoming the most heavily fortified in the world, far exceeding the meagre defences any mortal nation could muster at the edge of their own territory. First was Bosyak’s curse upon all who came up the mountain, sending avalanches and storms and other disasters to wipe them out or freeze them under. Second was the wall of solar light and heat, demarcated by the Deadlands where no living thing could grow or prosper, which prevented invasion from above by the beast-god Yeshi and her snow-leopard children. Now, a third barrier was woven simultaneously by a god of death unusually devoted to keeping people alive and a divine torturer and murderer split between fearful rage for her children and the playful approach of a cat to their prey. A life-guarding blessing woven by Mother Murder and The Most Finalest Bringer and Arbiter of Ultimate Megadeath. They were... not unlikely bedfellows, necessarily. They had more in common than many gods, and they were working in tandem to the same end. So it was that the border of the peak would never admit anyone with ill intent towards either or both of the nomads and the beasts. On pain of death. Up on the peak, Yeshi stirred in her sleep, and then was still. The blessing expended the remnant of power that still sparked from her, and she fell into a deep and true hibernation. OOC: Protecting the people of the peak: 4d6k1+4d6k1 11 vs target 9. Domain: 11, Hunger: 17. Consequence, as yet unrevealed. Also, Yeshi is fully tapped out for this Age and won’t get more points until she wakes up. - The life of a nomad was repetitious in form, but rich in substance. Promises of love at So-Ceba. Honouring guardians at Yeshiak. Giving gratitude for kin at Meziak. Uniting at Solenak. Making peace and merry at Sharys. Caring for the wise elders at Monak. Remembering the lost and gone—waiting for those yet to depart—at the Final Waystation. The richness lay not in the material variety, but in layering experience and knowledge upon one another time and time again, compacting them together like the snow they trod underfoot until it became dense and brilliant ice. And the richness, too, lay in accepting that one day all this would end, like snowmelt under the sun. OOC: Creating the shrines of Meziak, Solenak, and Monak: 3#3d6k1+3d6k1 11 12 9 vs target 7. Domain: 14 / 9 / 12, Hunger: 11 / 12 / 7. No Consequence for the shrines of Meziak and Monak, Consequence for the shrine of Solenak: disease spreads a little quicker thanks to this favourable meeting ground. - As the sisters gazed upon the world in their diurnal journeys, they noticed fewer spots beaming back from the surface. There were holes where certain lights ought to be. In fact, perhaps the most necessary of lights in the dark and the cold—the guide stars they sent down to the ground Ages ago—had almost entirely vanished from the world, and with them the shadow-yak of Bosyak too. The shining eyes of the void could find no trace of the lost stars anywhere that day or night, nor any after. Scant few remained, for which the few mortals who knew of them were greatly thankful. OOC: Most of the guide-stars—and Bosyak’s shadow yak—have vanished without a trace. A few remain. It’s not absolutely clear when this happened. - DP status: Bosyak: 0/7 ----- (-2 for demigod, -6 for shrines) Mezidec: 2/7 ----- (-2 for demigod) Solene/Mona: 2/7 Sharon: 0/7 ----- (+1 for prayer, -1 for demigod, -1 for rite, -2 for blessing of protection) Tectamus: 1/3 Bergeros: 0/3 ----- (-1 for demigod, -1 for rite) Finibus: 1/3 ----- (proportionate to time left in Age)
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Dec 7, 2021 01:10
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Mezidec – keeping pace with Finibus 2/7 > 0/7, Wounds: Mending Heart "My child, I have need of your help." It was a dizzying pace, shrine to pool to brawl to waystation. Mezidec refrained from accompanying into Bosyak's territory, respecting the threshold which the Warden of Thresholds could freely cross by dint of Bosyak's contribution to their creation. But there was ample time in the mountain and on the slopes to converse. "I grant you awareness of all that we know of mountain-that-is-skull, and of its original owner just past the veil. I share with you the knowledge of things going missing beyond the perception of gods. I enlighten you with foreboding, the sense of something terrible happening. And I invite you to join with me in laying the foundations for the ultimate failsafe. A plan to tunnel from this entire reality to another, saving every mortal, every god, every creation, everything in between, should that something terrible happen to skull mountain. I call it the Bore Contingency, and it will be the work of epochs, beginning now." ooc: Laying the foundation for the Bore Contingency, the ultimate failsafe escape route as discussed with Sharon last era. Parent child bonding exercise, looking to tap into consecration, peace and repair along with community, wealth and magnanimity. 2 DP 1 Hunger, asking Finibus for one of each. Multi-era project.
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Dec 7, 2021 20:26
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You never dig too deep. If you see the Warden, you turn straight back around. You follow the light of his eyes, you go back up, back home. You never, ever dig too deep. You’d fall out of the world! Old stories, really, Jokanan thought. Whoever heard of anyone falling out of the world? Crazy stories from centuries past. And the Warden—he’d hardly been seen for decades. The STN practically put them out of a job, after all. He was almost a fairy tale these days. You’d never dig too deep anyway, simply because you’d never have any reason to. This was what Jokanan thought as he held his breath, pulling his ribcage in just enough to squeeze through the fissure ahead of him. There was nothing to worry about. He’d just taken a wrong turn. He’d round another corner somewhere around here and find himself on a familiar stretch of paved tunnel in the lower STN, for sure. Then he’d feel foolish, alright. Foolish and safe. No more prospecting after that. There were better ways to contribute to the wealth of Concordia than navigating the deeper reaches of the mountain in hopes of finding a little overlooked ore or coal or what-have-you. ...There, through the fissure. Down into another thin lightless cavern coiled and twisted like a tunnel eel. And then his lantern-candle burnt down to the last little stump and died. The deepest darkness is always right after the light goes out, so they say, so Jokanan waited in the pitch dark. Sure enough, he began to see, just barely, by some kind of faint light. Maybe there were some luminescent mushrooms nearby, or phosphorescent geodes, or something. He followed that dim light, as it led down through tunnels down past ores and deeper down, through a cathedral crevasse glowing from below and deeper still, that faint-yet-growing light pulled him deeper still until he arrived at the Haven of the Warden of the Antimountain. Jokanan peeked in from the side of the entryway to the mechanical marvel within, and he saw the demigod in the flesh. The golem god with candle eyes, just like the stories said. What the stories didn’t say, however, was that he was thoroughly engrossed in some kind of... artistic... creation? It wasn’t entirely clear. Then something shifted in the central mechanism, revealing the source of the light that bathed the chamber and had attracted Jokanan thus far. The little prospector beheld the empty, yet ever-burning body of the mountain god. That proved a little too much, so he ran, back up the bridge to the Haven, back up through the cathedral crevasse and up through the coiling cavern and through that breath-taking fissure, haunted the whole way back by the Warden’s candlelight eyes. Years later, he began to tell people what he saw that day. OOC: Building inward in the Lyric Matrix: 2d6k1+1d6k1 7 vs target 7. Domain: 3, Hunger: 5. Consequence. Tectamus completes the second- and third-largest layers of the Lyric Matrix. The light of the core attracts a lost prospector—rare these days—who quickly retreats out of fear (guided home by Tectamus’ eyes). Rumours spread that the golem-god is preoccupied with some vast endeavour. - For a rare moment, Finibus had pause. “But... father, I—” he gestured all around. At the hovels and palaces. At the frost-draped shrines, at mutinies and murders, at reverence and violence and tyranny. A sweep of his arms did not encompass even one thousandth of the work left to be done, not even one millionth. And he had to do it all. Everything had to be perfect. Even so. “...very well, father.” Finibus worked, not tirelessly, but without end. He plotted routes out to the void beyond void, conducted scouting missions, reported back on the inhospitable brutality of a time spent in a space without space or time, with only Mezidec’s might to protect him. Each report provided more data, and though prospects looked grim, they didn’t look impossible. OOC: Laying the groundwork for the Bore Contingency: 4d6k1+3d6k1 11 vs target 11. Domain: 14, Hunger: 12. No Consequence. Finibus works without end to plot routes into the void beyond void as the preliminary work of creating an escape from this reality. Remaining on the to-do list for this project: find a suitable destination, bridge the gap, and move everything through. - DP status: Bosyak: 0/7 Mezidec: 0/7 ----- (-2 for starting escape plan) Solene/Mona: 2/7 Sharon: 0/7 Tectamus: 0/3 ----- (-1 for work on Haven) Bergeros: 0/3 Finibus: 0/3 ----- (-1 for starting escape plan)
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Dec 8, 2021 00:48
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Mezidec – dialogue with Finibus 0/7, Wounds: Mending Heart "I know, and I understand. It is because there is so much for all of us to do that we make sure we avoid the tragedy of an abrupt and premature end. The task in general is not and will never be greater than you can manage, and I have faith in your ability." Responded the father to the son. ooc: Not leaving the conversation dangling, Demigods of the mountain will always get support.
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Dec 8, 2021 02:45
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THE THIRD AGE, THE AGE OF RECOMPENSE AND REVENGE, IS OVER It was an age of blood for blood—the leopard god’s campaign of terror—sweat for blood—Bosyak’s labours to apologise for his devastation—and blood for sweat—Mezidec’s punishment of the arrogant mortal Kariarchus. On the other hand, it was an age of protection and amelioration: Solene’s fiery wall to protect the lowlands from ever suffering the leopard god’s wrath again; Sharon’s ward of kindness shielding all the mortals of the peak from harm; and attempts by almost all the gods and demigods of the mountain to bring peace or quiet to the beast-human mortal-god Yeshi. Only time would tell if their efforts would succeed, with Yeshi now sleeping on the peak. The passions of the gods ran rampant, and mortal passions would soon follow suit. - Life in Concordia was greater still than before. Steam power proved a rousing success in mining and repairs in the previous Age and spread like wildfire throughout all aspects of life: new machines ferried people around the MTP-STN, harvested cave crops, carved mining tunnels, and more. Day by day people grew happier eating the fruits of their collective labour. Day by day the people of Concordia needed divine power less and less. Life under the Union of the Plains was almost unbearable. Almost. Tyrannical dynasties all died out, replaced by oligarchical committees and councils that proved far more adept at neatly crushing people into obedience than the monarchs ever were. In some ways, the self-proclaimed benevolent ones were the worst, keeping their people trapped in an illusion of freedom while their spies and assassins dealt with anyone who stepped out of line and ‘threatened the public peace’. For the vast majority of mortals in the lowlands, there were three ways out: Theosophists promising mortal experience of the divine; Sharonic literalists promising that obedience opened the gates of heaven; and the demigods of Mezidec, who promised freedom, but mainly maintained stability. The fourth option was, of course, to violently overthrow the authorities with fire and bloodshed. To risk breaking Mezidec’s Golden Law. To act on the ideas seeded and spread so long ago by the embassy-monasteries, with their communal ways of life that shocked and astounded the mortals of Ages past. Those seeds of revolution were still buried, but it wouldn’t be long before they broke the surface. Another messenger pigeon arrived with a communique from Bergeros: Dear father, It brings me great pleasure to report that literacy is increasing, travel is largely free, war is almost unheard of, and migration into the civic core (Concordia) is pleasantly on the rise. Furthermore, thanks to our myriad ongoing efforts, the various cities have coalesced into six nations that are now concordant parts of one greater whole in the Union of the Plains:
Your faithful son, Bergeros P.S. I do worry about my new brother. He seems to take everything more personally than is feasible in the long term. Meanwhile, a prayer echoed round the ribcage of a dragon-fossil in the Heart of the Mountain: quote:O Mezidec, Uniter. There are some among us who want to flee underground to escape the oligarchs’ taxes and their enforcers’ whips and clubs. I am not one of them. I can’t give up the light of the sun, nor the caress of the waves, nor the earth of my parents and ancestors. Grant me strength that I might unite the people of my nation and beyond, that we may bring these tyrants to their knees—and behead them. OOC: It’s war... uh, that is, revolution. The stable oppression of the Union of the Plains is driving some people to emigrate to Concordia (which they can now easily do due to Sharon and Bergeros’ Rite of Safe Passage from last Age), but many more are unwilling to leave home and instead cling to the ideas brought out from the under-world so long ago. - As the Ages turned, the Theosophists grew clearer and more rigid in their thinking. Officially, there were four Branches of Theosophism devoted to different materialisations of the divine: Bodies (their physical forms), Artefacts (their tools and works), Havens (their abodes), and Miracles (the most fleeting materialisation). Unofficially, there were two factions, with members spread throughout the Branches. On the one hand, the majority Monians, who gathered in academic congregations out under the moonlight. On the other, the reticent Solenics, who practiced rituals concealed in the shadows of day. A few Monians gossiped that they consorted with beings unknown (perhaps the sea devils mentioned in the tale of Anton, or spirits foreign to this universe, like the reapers). These were probably false, though. Probably. Meanwhile, the sect grew more ambitious in their plots. The Theosophists' secret-gathering spideweb was extremely effective at producing nuggets of divine fact, but... the facts themselves were insufficient. They were the barest glimpses of the outer reaches of divinity. The Theosophists wanted to see the worlds of the gods in the flesh. This was the impetus for the Monian Haven-branch Antimountaineering Expedition of the Fourth Age. They tried to keep it a secret, but, you know, and soon it was common knowledge to the sisters and mortals alike. The plan was daring in the extreme: venture over the edge of the world, climb and abseil down the antimountain, and arrive at the Fortress of Dusk and Dawn they'd so far only seen in visions. The operation would be the work of decades: gathering materials and expedition members, carving successive base camps before returning home, and finally making a push to the peak. Still, it was now or never. Concordian rumour had it that the demigod who guarded the antimountain was preoccupied, and by climbing down the outside they could evade his notice entirely, at the cost of possibly falling into the abyss. Of course, if the sisters didn’t want visitors then they could make their displeasure known at any time... but the Theosophists would want credible reasons why. A bevy of prayers rose to the apex of the sky, a mix from frustrated adherents and curious scholars: quote:“Look, they've been debating it for decades now, but the game's worn thin so I'll just come out and ask. O' Solene, Mona, why don't the gods do more? You're, well, gods. For all the amazing things you do, why don't you do, well, more of them? Seriously, we've got more speculative texts written on the things we think you could do than the things you have done.” quote:"O' Solene, who labours so thanklessly. Your work, your words and deeds, the very essence of your selfless guidance and your life-giving light, is being rejected even by so-called followers of Mona! Your divinity should never be questioned so! What am I to do? None may go to war, but if naught else at least grant me the power to smite with conviction alone, so that I can see you honored again!" quote:"Mona, keeper of secrets... which god created us? In whose image were we made? I can find no reliable legend or divine writing that speaks of this. Everyone seems to have their own opinion, or none at all." OOC: A little structural detail on the Theosophists. Also, turnabout is fair play, perhaps, as the mortals make plans to visit the homes of the gods (Solene and Mona, anyway), who’ve spent centuries visiting the homes of mortals. Their plan is highly dangerous, but they’re also highly capable, resourceful, and well-funded. -  The literalists won out in the end. It wasn’t a fair fight, really. Their obedience to greater power and faith in meek moderation made them perfect tools for tyrants. They crushed the humanists and scattered them to the wind. There were certainly some in the Bureaucracy who’d take pleasure in that. Every hierarchy had its sadists. Equally, there’d be plenty who’d sympathise with—even interdict or intervene on behalf of—the oppressed party. Many more just wouldn’t care. After all, what mattered was how people lived, not the material facts of their existence. All those spirits, gods, and Celestials were irrelevant, however: here there was only Sharon, her authorisation from above, and the little mountain world. Anyway, maybe there were bigger fish to fry—titanic ones, even. Mortimer received word that a certain ‘Celestial Astronomer’ was back. Stepped straight outta the mouth of a giant carp and onto someone’s boat, they said. Grabbed the first reaper he saw and shook them by the shoulders while yelling that “it worked! My plan worked!” they said. Kept asking where his “finely-tuned and exquisitely delicate instruments were”, they said. In the midst of human politics and titanic forensics, a message in a bottle floated by Sharon’s boat: quote:“Hey, Celestial god-gerl, descendant of Anton here. We're still fishin', 'n listenin' to them old tales. Wanna come down for a chat, let us mortals in one how things are comin' along? You ain't prophet-ized anyone in a bit and a half. Though some are saying that poor woman with the holy jade ought to have qualified, but she had none o' it. Sons grew up well, though. OOC: The literalists (who think everyone should unquestioningly follow the Bureaucracy’s basic principles for mortal life) win out over the humanists (who think the laws of god should bend for the benefit of mortals). Meanwhile, Haniyu is back and ready to go see the - ‘The Old Ways’. Everyone said it like that. ‘The Old Ways’. How old were they, really? Older than you. Older than me. Older than Bosyak, perhaps. Older than anyone that anyone had ever heard of. The nomads rarely had cause to worry about grand changes like rising power or coming revolution. Missionaries were just old, half-remembered devils. Their concerns were usually more mundane and diverse. How do I sing our songs better? How do I keep our yaks and children safe from the snow leopards? How do we convince our parents to accept our love? How do we all survive the cold together? How do I cut down enough trees to burn for fuel or shape into tools or yurt-poles without causing problems for the next caravan coming through here? And, lately and overwhelmingly: how do we keep from getting sick, and slowing down, and stalling out in some inhospitable couloir or traverse on our passage round the mountain? The bountiful, pleasant, life-giving shrine of Solenak proved too appealing, and where people congregated in great numbers contagion spread like wildfire. The nomads were particularly vulnerable—they’d rarely gathered much in one place before, not even Sharys. The bizarre and elating sight of thousands upon thousands of people all different but alike and all in one place was swiftly undercut by a plague of dreamless, unending sleep, and the eternal migration round the peak slowed to a crawl. But who among them would ask Brother Cold for help? Yeshi continued to sleep, perchance to dream, buried by snow that stained everything emptywhite. A prayer from a child, inspecting relics of a time of greater trade and dreaming of exploring and travelling below the peak—or into them. quote:"Brother Snow, why are the old ways always the best ways? This old knife is so much better than what we have, and it's not nomad-made. I wanna go visit those who made it." OOC: Increased population density at Solenak increases the spread of disease, and at the start of this Age a particularly nasty and virulent one spreads throughout the nomads: a sleeping sickness that slows migration to a fraction of its former speed. - THE FOURTH AGE HAS BEGUN - DP status: Bosyak: 6/6 Mezidec: 6/6 Solene/Mona: 6/6 Sharon: 6/6 Tectamus: 3/3 Haniyu: 3/3 Bergeros: 3/3 Finibus: 3/3
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Dec 9, 2021 01:00
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Sharon – The River with Haniyu DP: 6/6, Wounds: None Sharon shook her head with a slight 'tut tut' as Haniyu sailed back to harbor with his reaper escort. "Cool scheme, Haniyu", Sharon spoke with a wink and sardonic smirk, "So cool that one might even forget that you totally skipped work for like, 80% of the entire Age. And don't even try to say you didn't, I had Mortimer keep track of that", she nodded to the reaper beside herself, and snorted. "Don't take it too bad though, not going to rake your rear end over the coals for it because I'm nice like that. And because I trust you will do your very best from now on to make up for it, right? Now, get your butt out of that boat. We have a ton of jiggles constructed out of pure incomprehensibility to decode." OOC: Pitching 3 DP to interpret the Titanic Writ, from Transitions (it's basically just powering up Haniyu so that he can get through his work faster), and 1 HP from Lazing About (...it's basically just powering up Haniyu so that Sharon can take it easy). Haniyu is expected to contribute 1 DP and 1 HP of his own. Additionally, the Statue will grant 2 HP since it needs to give more HP than any other assisting god. Total expected pool for this action is thus 5 DP and 5 HP, I will force success if necessary. Theantero fucked around with this message at 16:39 on Dec 9, 2021 |
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Dec 9, 2021 15:21
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Haniyu grumbled, but acceded. Yes, yes, in fairness he had been away from work for a short while. And besides, now came the most interesting part for the Celestial (Lesser): decoding the echo of the titan’s death-message from pre-universal script to something more... amenable. Planar dynamics was his job, but this was his hobby, and for a Celestial, turning a hobby into a job was ideal. OOC: Interpreting the death message: 5d6k1+5d6k1 11 vs target 11. Domain: 23, Hunger: 21. No Consequence. Time for a conversation on what Haniyu’s found. - Months, years, decades. Sentences, chapters, epics. Tectamus built a universe of poetry into the concentric spheres of the Lyric Matrix, slowly blotting out the light and heat of the infernal engine at its core. Most of the poetry was gibberish to him, and would’ve made any mortal consider him mad if they saw how much effort he was putting into that mess, but he had greater plans in mind. Now he could begin the most critical work of the Lyric Matrix—tuning the algorithm that controlled which blocks moved where like some grand orrery. His father provided the heart that made the whole thing run; now he had to build the brain that would make it beautiful. OOC: Finishing haven construction: 2d6k1+2d6k1 11 vs target 7. Domain: 9, Hunger: 9. No Consequence, barely. Tectamus finishes construction of the eight layers of the Lyric Matrix. The last task is the greatest one: tweaking the algorithm for poetic perfection. - DP status: Bosyak: 6/6 Mezidec: 6/6 Solene/Mona: 6/6 Sharon: 3/6 ----- (-3 for interpretation) Tectamus: 2/3 ----- (-1 for Haven) Haniyu: 2/3 ----- (-1 for interpretation) Bergeros: 3/3 Finibus: 3/3 UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 01:29 on Dec 10, 2021 |
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Dec 9, 2021 17:21
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Mezidec – discussion with Bergeros and Finibus 6/6 > 3/6, Wounds: None “My children, there is an issue before us. We have an ordered union upon the surface, but unlike Concordia, individual freedoms are curtailed, and pressure against it is building. There are prayers for revolution, and thus we are going to need to intervene, transitioning the Union into one which people are happier to live in. Finibus, I note the use of assassins against political opponents is still widespread, an affront to the Peace invested in you.” began Mezidec. Finibus sat on a rock, head in his hands; his expression may have been invisible, but his bedraggled hair, blood- and dirt-smeared hands, and sweat-stained robes were clear. Eventually, he spoke: “It’s not just assassins. Bailiffs, militia, house-breakers, more besides. And they’re hardly ‘political opponents’. They don’t have the power to oppose those at the top, not yet. There is no change without the approval of the oligarchs.” He looked up with ruby-red eyes, to Mezidec, then to Bergeros, then to the ground. “The worst thing is... some of them’ve started to imitate me. In a manner. They claim to be ‘protecting the polis’—not the city, like guards, not the nation, like armies. This is something new. They claim they’re protecting people like I do, but I don’t beat people or lock them in gaol or execute them, and certainly not in the name of the people I’m beating, gaoling, and executing.” “So, there’s that.” He rested his head in his hands again. “Fortunately, we outrank the oligarchs by orders of magnitude they can barely comprehend. If need be, every iota of their wealth can be gone in less than one of their eyeblinks. The only reason I have not done so in the present circumstance is I would prefer a more peaceful transfer, preserving the progress that has been made. Warden of the Outer Slopes, that would be your bailiwick. How well can we arrange to manage this?” continued the God of Community. Bergeros stood resplendent in the aquamarine robes of his divine-diplomatic office, tablet in one hand and a set of scrolls under the other arm. "Of course, I can sympathise with my brother's need for immediate perfection—"he threw a glance at Mezidec"—but things are well in hand, I should say. I foresee transitions to some form of shared power—one where the polis has the ability to choose their governing representatives by means of a public or secret ballot—within one..." he scanned down the tablet "...two..." he continued scanning "...I should say within the second Age from now. There will, of course, be incentives for those representatives to act in self-interest, so curtailing that will probably be the labour of another several Ages, on top of my existing workload." He nodded to the scrolls. Educational plans, civic works, information on migration, the like. Finibus gave a bitter chuckle. "Wrong tool for the job." “A point of clarity, Bergeros. As the one at the Heart of the Mountain, as the power of Tunnels, I know how it feels when an unstoppable rush of magma arises and seeks to outflow. The same with the metaphor. The union, right now, is atop a magma vent. The chamber amassing irresistible pressure is the people the oligarchs are suppressing in ever more expansive ways. The status quo means an eruption, and the disruption of our plans. That is what we need to bleed off, and we need to do so in this era. So, that in mind, are we able to adapt? Power will be made available to each of you commensurate to the actions required.” continued the Kindly Shelter. Bergeros flipped through his scrolls, consulting intricate notation at the start of each one and muttering under his breath. "...No." He sighed. "No, I don't think the current approach can be adapted for speed, within the bounds of strictly diplomatic techniques." Another mirthless chuckle from the other side. Bergeros and Finibus didn't so much exchange a look as spar with their sight. Bergeros continued: "A more direct intervention could do the trick, however. Something akin to the Golden Law or the three barriers at the Peak, but perhaps more... present?" Finibus took over. "So what are we supposed to do, then? What am I supposed to do? Do we stand over them, watching everything they do, guiding their hand as a parent would a child? Do I have to spend the rest of my immortal life breathing down their necks? And they're not all bad, you know! Some of them have the right ideas. Why does Concordia not need all this labour?" Bergeros opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and looked to Mezidec. “It does. I do it, under the auspices of the Patron of the Dweller Within. The interior of the mountain conforms to my will more easily, but my will is still necessary to be conformed to. But my remit does not extend to the slopes, so I created you both to tend to those not impacted by me directly. As for what we do, a direct intervention is indeed the general necessity I have foreseen, thus seeking advice from you who have been placed in authority over the area in question. I do not want to blunder in and overwrite your own efforts, nor to make your tasks harder, but to work in harmony and in concert to bring about a better end state for all of us. Speaking of, Finibus, a little self-determination. Which outcome do you desire for yourself? How do you wish your position to evolve?” answered Mezidec. Bergeros nodded thoughtfully along with his father’s explanation, but Finibus only stared. After a long pause, he spoke: “You know what unstoppable magma is like. Do you know what it’s like to step between two quarrelling men, clubs or knives at the ready, swearing obscenities at each other about—about adultery or theft, or an insult from one family to another? To see the hard lines on their faces crease up so they look like rock cracked asunder by water and ice? How often does that happen to you? Because that’s my entire life. I don’t see a future. I just see the present. I don’t know what I want. This is the longest time I’ve ever spent still, I think. But I can’t stop. There’s always something wrong with the world. I don’t think it’s the people. It’s the way they’re organised, set in place like little wooden dolls. We’ll never make things better the way they are now. We get rid of one tyrant and another one steps in. You—”he jabbed a finger at Bergeros“—convince them to choose their rulers, and then their rulers will turn into tyrants again. The only way out...” He pushed to his feet. “The only way I’ll ever rest, I think, is if every mortal becomes a god, and then all their problems will be entirely of their own making.” With a clap of thunder, he was gone, back to work. Bergeros turned to Mezidec. “Like I wrote, he tends to take things more personally than I would. In any case, if you truly do not wish to interfere over us, then perhaps we should do the same, and step in when revolution has run its course. Not a clean slate, as Bosyak brutally proposed the last time I saw him, but a relatively cleaner one. Or perhaps we could guide the rebels as they execute their plans, to reach a mutually-preferable outcome, though as that would jeopardise my position as a neutral party I couldn’t possibly be directly involved. Either way, it would give us greater influence, ideally without costing us the gains we’ve already made.” “After all,” he said as he consulted his intelligence reports on revolutionary philosophy, “it does seem the prospective rebels are more heavily influenced by Concordian practice than anything else.” “Oh, he’s not wrong, and that is the eventual aim. Apotheosis. It’s going to take a long while but the path of progress will lead there. Though I’ll see if I can get Sharon to have a word about handling an infinite, ever growing workload whilst setting aside some time for oneself. And this entire meeting is to plan the interference. We’re going to fast track the revolution to the point of bloodlessness, and preferably with buy in from the oligarchs. Not one drop of mortal blood spilled on either side is the aim, with governments far more in line with progress for all in place as a strong secondary.” answered the Enricher. Bergeros nodded again. “The absence of violence and tension, yes. Well, as they said in Acca before that ghastliness with the beast-god, war and diplomacy are two sides of the same coin. Perhaps psychological warfare, rather than diplomatic overtures or open bloodshed, would secure a better outcome for us? We would only have to target those at the very top of society for the effects to ripple downwards. With that said, this isn’t quite my forté—I hate to admit it, but the beast-god’s affinity for dreams would be highly useful in this endeavour.” “Oh, I am very much a God of real things, my son. You know where to target our efforts, I can use my powers and past reputation to empower them. Let us deliver a targeted ultimatum, listing their genteel but murderous crimes, requiring restitution through accomodation of the new order, and making clear that noncompliance will make the first violations of the Golden Law look like losing a single penny.” Decreed the Uniter of Kin. “Reckon we can make that work?” “Yes, of course. I think that will do fine.” ooc: Delivering a targeted ultimatum to the oligarchs and their peers all across the Union, pointing out every sordid detail they wish hidden, requiring their cessation and cooperation with the forces that wish to bring about the new order, dangling the damoclean sword of a fate that would make the violators of the Golden Rule look like they got off lightly. Investing 3 points from community and the threat of withholding wealth, 2 hunger from magnanimity towards the masses and a burning desire for progress, asking for one of each from Bergeros, whose finesse and guidance ensures this ultimatum is properly aimed. Indirectly answering the prayer for revolution with a bloodless theocratic coup.
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Dec 9, 2021 19:55
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Sharon – Near the Corpse of a Dead Titan with Haniyu DP: 3/6, Wounds: None Sharon arrived to find the Celestial had already repaired his skiff—or, at least, rebuilt it into a straightforward raft on the conceptual sea. All manner of salvaged instruments lay scattered around, from constellations trapped in glass globes, to leyline-seeking sextants, to dowsing rods, to an impressive polydimensional abacus—but Haniyu was instead hunched over simple ink and parchment, scribbling notes with one hand and tracing Titanic Writ with the other. He didn’t notice the reaper’s arrival. “So”, Sharon waltzed by, hands casually in her pockets, “How’s it going?” “Ah!” he jolted out of a scholarly trance and turned to Sharon. “Hm. I have a rough draft. I’ve been refining it with the help of further documentation from the Library—” (Sharon could feel the capital L in his pronunciation) “—but, I suppose if you’re satisfied with a mere approximation, we could discuss the message now.” “Always been a fan of approximations”, Sharon replied, “Hit me with it.” “Very well. The message, as you may know, was communicated through the medium of the true names of the divine. What I have here—”he clicked a brass device in his hand and a pictogram flickered into being in front of the raft“—is a material approximation, for our safety.” He clicked again and three icons appeared:    “Here, the first three. Ashiram, Logic of the Leviathan. Obviously, this is ‘rulership’. Then the Titan of Time. I shouldn’t have to say it, but that indicates ‘time’. The final one here is Verdelé. Records are sparse, but I believe this one refers to ‘mortal-kind’. So, Ruler - Time - Mortal-kind.” Sharon nodded her head, slowly. “I’m with you so far”, she spoke, “But we probably should just continue at this point, because without context that could mean a whole lot of things, depending on what this message even is. Could be a declaration of the inevitable ascent of mortals, or a warning of their fleeting nature. So unless you have some particular interpretations, we can just move forward.” “Yes, yes, I’m getting to that. I can cut this shorter, if you’d like.” He clicked again and another set of icons flashed up:        “Now this is, I believe, a list. Ignoring the first one, these indicate Jugo, the Little Loud Voice: ‘stories’. Iokana, the Blood Muse: ‘great works’, or perhaps ‘art’. Faustus, The God to Whom All Pray and None Trust—this one you should know, it’s ‘fortune’. Glister, the Madman’s Vice: ‘dreams’. Kəzar... the Librarians have trouble with this one. It spreads beyond the texts it should be confined to. In any case, that indicates ‘hubris’. At last, Chizos, Fractured Voice: ‘madness’. Stories, great works, fortunes, dreams, hubris, madness. And what, then, is the first icon?” He cast a hand dramatically to the array of icons and clicked to reveal a close-up on the first. “Galarian, The Ever-Giving, who, as with some of the others, I believe you have direct experience with. But this one is diffracted oddly. Inverted. Instead of ‘giving’, it likely denotes ‘taking’. And, taken together with the first set... I was suzerain of the mortals within me for time beyond time. I took all I could from them: their stories; their great works of art and power; their fortunes and ambitions; their dreams and nightmares; even their hubris and their madness.. Even the hubris and madness. Everything. Consumed, I suspect, but then I don’t know the internal biology of titans.” “Taken that this is the first dead Titan I’ve ever come across, can’t say I’m super familiar either”, Sharon stroked her chin, “But hey, we’ve got local Gods who are basically embodiments of parts of its corpse. If we at some point need some insight into that, we can always ask them.” “Regardless, can’t say I’m coming up with any better interpretations off the top of my head, and this one seems plausible enough thus far. So let's keep going.” He clicked again and a the close-up was replaced with another single icon:  “Simple. Gu-Lam, ‘indolence’. The fact that it was in a separate verse suggests to me that this was intended to contrast the previous: At last, there was nothing left to take but indolence and emptiness.” Another click, and three more icons filled the space:    “Nochtli, The Everconsuming, embodiment of ‘need’. Then, possibly a pair of gods incarnate as one: Mit and Ras, indicating ‘uncommon circumstances’. The last one is... confusing. Unorthodox. I’m not aware of the particular skein of possibility this is read from, but I interpret it as ‘willing finality’. Or: I needed to experience something new that I had never known, but the only thing I had never known was death, and so, I chose to die.” Haniyu wiped the icons away. Far, far in the distance, ten trillion and more arms still pointed in to where they’d neatly severed the titan’s head. Sharon merely narrowed her eyes and nodded, as she stared at the distant remains of the Titan, “I see.” “Continue.” He brings up the penultimate verse:   “Here, things become less clear. Luckily for—this investigation, I have the skill to make sense of it. Seyrasa, God of Snakes and Stars, likely in this case indicates ‘death’ or ‘void’. Either would work. Then we have ‘time’ again, and finally a less clear aspect: Amygdulla. Something of bitterness, or the unexpected, but ultimately an ‘inversion of expectations’. I consigned myself to the void beyond void, but, after time beyond time, this once-alluring experience bores me too.” He clicked one final time:  Silence. Instead of pointedly showing off his wide-ranging knowledge of the gods and ability to (plausibly) interpret Titanic Writ, Haniyu said nothing. Sharon could tell he was eyeing her a little warily out of the corner of his eye, looking for some reaction—he wasn’t very good at hiding it. “Ah, why don’t you tell me what you think this last, inverted pictogram means?” “Well, it’s my pictogram, but it’s inverted”, Sharon elected to take Haniyu’s suggestion entirely straight, instead of engaging with the baiting mockery it was likely intended at least partially as, “And I am a Goddess of Death and Passage.” “So, we have a Titan, who by your interpretation”, she continued, “has grown bored of Death, and follows that statement by repeating the inverse of a pictogram the most obvious reading of which is Death. So probably, the Titan wishes to resurrect, though that’s not the only interpretation I can think of.” Un-waves slowly rolled the raft as Haniyu sat in thought. “Yes.” Though Haniyu’s skin was fair—or pale, really—Sharon could see the colour starting to drain a little from his face. He looked up from his work and out at the titan corpse, silent and still and wreathed in conceptual mist in the far, far distance. Could such a thing really move? “But—if it was going to come back under its own power—which would be highly unlikely—then why would it wait until now?” He steepled his fingers. “As you say, I can think of other interpretations. Perhaps it wants to die the final death? That would certainly be easier on us, though it would spell disaster for that little world you’ve been sent to cover.” “The inverse of Passage would be… Stasis? Cessation?”, Sharon nodded, “I was also thinking that might mean the Titan actually, truly wishes for its journey to finally end”, she grimaced, “Which leaves us in a rather unfortunate situation where we have two readings that are both valid but are essentially opposite to each other.” She breathed in, and then slowly exhaled. “And whilst you say the Titan reaching final Death would mean doom for the Mountainfolk, I don’t see anything good coming from a resurrection either. If the head gets reattached and regains whatever life function even means for a Titan, it will likely result in a landscape entirely alien to the current inhabitants, and I doubt the Titan would allow for the Divinities that currently reside within, either.” “Though final Death would likely mean total planar dissolution within a short timeframe as the Chaotic Space reclaims a divine remain with no divinity left.” “Neither option is very good for the locals”, Sharon continued, “But then again, the Titan clearly wishes for one of these two outcomes, and Titanic will is liable to force our hand sooner or later. And at this point, I fear it is going to be sooner. I feel it in my gut.” The Lesser Celestial followed along with every word. Now you’re speaking my language. “Well, in any case, I think the Halls will force your hand before the titan does. It wouldn’t surprise me if the bailiffs are already en-route. We both know—the judges abhor uncertainty. And the threat of a titan resurrecting creates more uncertainty than they can tolerate. Simply destroying the skull, perhaps also killing the four gods that grew from it, would be the safest solution for everyone. Everyone else, that is.” There were many potential promotional paths within the Bureaucracy, to take into account the inevitable variance within Divine Ego, but also because the Celestials just really, really liked complicated organizational charts. Most followed the usual paths, yes, as did Sharon with her logistically focused kit. But she was still a Goddess of Death, as were the other promoted Reapers and most of the Yama, and there were some fairly obvious uses for the Domain they rarely used. Regardless, the path of the Court Executioner remained open for any God within the Bureaucracy that had personally slain another. Sharon had seen an Executioner Troupe leading Court Bailiffs in action exactly once, and did not want to see it ever again. “…Perhaps so”, she frowned, ”Regardless, the path forward is something I will have to discuss with the locals.” “Anyway, thank you for your input, Haniyu. And this time I even mean it truly and sincerely.” Haniyu looked back, slightly stunned. “Yes. Well. Good luck.” He looked back to the corpse one more time. “I mean it.” OOC: Fluff. Quite important fluff, too. Theantero fucked around with this message at 21:26 on Dec 20, 2021 |
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Dec 9, 2021 19:55
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Bosyak – Nomadlands 6/6, Wounds: None quote:Brother Cold, I have been a difficult man to live with, this I know. I was hard with my wife, severe with my children, but only so that they might grow up strong. I was successful. They follow the Old Ways. They will survive and prosper. Yet… now I am dying and I am dying alone. I have not seen my children in years. I have never met my grandchildren. My wife left me for another. I am afraid, Brother Cold! No one will put my name on a stone! Must I make my final crossing alone? Leopards do not die easy. Their claws dull. Their teeth fall out. When they can hunt no more, they starve. So it is with nomads, too. Bosyak found the old man wandering across a snowbank, no possessions save a small fire and the clothes on his back, everything else left at Meziak so that it might serve others. He himself would leave his body to the mountain, to the animals, as is tradition. “You are not… mmmm... alone.” The man lifted his eyes, found the God of the Peak, and gave a small, grateful nod. He pulled his cloak tight. “Blessings.” Bosyak could see inside his body, see the rot that was growing there. In a warm yurt, surrounded by love and support, death would still come. Slow. Painful. The cold would be easier. But Bosyak could make it easier still. They walked in silence, their feet trodding along a secret path, long and winding, up a ridge, to a minor peak. It was where the man had first professed his love. Long, long ago. Before the difficulties of life. The responsibilities of fatherhood. They arrived at dawn. The view was… Breathtaking. Solene’s rays peeked over the horizon, her light dancing across great expanses of snow. Further down, white gave way to other colors. The life giving sight of evergreens. The red of berries. The blue of cold, clean water. Small bands of nomads, small as insects, traversed below them, unaware of being watched. “This seems like a good place,” the man said. He shivered and took a deep breath. “What… what happens when I die?” “You’ll meet the Death God.” The man pursed his chapped lips. “Is she… is she frightening? Should I be afraid?” “No,” Bosyak said. “She is… mmmm... fine.” He thought for a moment. A new word came to mind. He spoke it slowly. Trying it out. “She. Is… Lovely.” “Ah.” The man shivered. “I have so many regrets, Brother Cold. I did not appreciate my wife. I did not honor her love and her sacrifices. I should have been easier on my children. They were already strong. I didn’t need to push them away. I…” He choked up, his words disappearing into sobs. Bosyak put a hand on the man’s shoulders. His hand was so large that he was able to rest his thumb on one and his index on the other. The man leaned against Bosyak’s thumb, wiped his tears on the God’s fur. “I have tried to honor you with my life,” the man said. “But here, at the end, you have honored me. I wish I could gift you something, anything, but I have nothing left.” Bosyak gave the man a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Worry not… mmmm... mortal. There is still one task you could fulfill.” “But name it, Brother, and it is done.” “When you see the Reaper, tell her I would like to see her.” “I… I don’t understand…” The man looked up but Bosyak’s face was unmoving stone. “I… Yes. Yes, of course.” He gave a weak smile. Bosyak nodded and snapped his neck. It really was a beautiful view. Bosyak – Nomadlands, with Sharon 6/6, Wounds: None “Hi”, Sharon called from behind Bosyak. As usual, she was carrying bottles, “Got your message.” She walked next to him and handed him a bottle, “Something in particular you wanted to discuss? Or is this just a social visit”, she opened her bottle and took a swig, “Because I’m good with either~” She took another swig. “Pretty good stuff, this. They’re starting to build actual distilleries in the undermountain and I can’t say I dislike the results.” Bosyak didn't, couldn't look at her. He kept his eyes on the horizon. He started to speak, stopped, started once more. He didn't know if Sharon could see how uncomfortable he was. "There's a sickness," he said finally. He kicked himself for changing the subject. "With the nomads. Seems best to… mmmm... thin the herd. Would you like that? I can kill then right now." Sharon smiled sadly as she, too, stared into the horizon, “I would not say that I like it. That would be far too macabre for my tastes. I’m a Goddess of Death and Passage but I do not revel in mortals dying. I merely recognize it as a necessary step they have to partake in during their existence.” She sighed. “But it’s a plague, and mortals will perish because of it. And it’s a plague in a population that has been largely cut off from any outside sources of aid, under a Pantheon where no true life-giving or healing focused Divinities exist. If culling the sick is truly the only way you can think of to save your people, I would not unduly judge you for it, even though I would much prefer gentler methods.” She took another swig, “You’re afraid I would scorn you like I scorned the suggestion to murder the lowlanders last age to mollify Yeshi, aren’t you?” Yeshi. Bosyak stiffened at The mention of her name. He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I… I do not know another way. But I would listen to your council." It was a strange feeling. The opening of one's self. But it was also an honest offering. He also hoped she would listen to his, when the time came. Sharon turned her head towards Bosyak, and smiled softly, “I am not a Goddess of Healing, and my abilities are poorly suited for treating illness by means other than simply not allowing the afflicted to die. And I’ve already no-no’d necromancy on this World.” “But”, she continued, “I know that all things die, eventually. Diseases, too, especially virulent epidemics like this one. Some groups of nomads are more afflicted than others, and cannot move fast enough to sustain themselves. But certainly this is not the case for all of them.” “So thus, if we think of all the tribes themselves as people, some of who are sick and some of who are not, what is the obvious solution? The healthy taking care of those who cannot take care of themselves.” “Perhaps then, Hospitality could be the solution here? Where the better to do tribes give to the ailing ones, until the plague runs its course. It will not be easy, and care will have to be taken so that the disease doesn’t spread further, but I am confident it could be done.” Sharon smiled. “But I will not impose on you. These are your people, in the end. And I can tell you mean well by them, whatever choice you go with. For Gods, when it comes to mortals, that is generally the most I ask.” Bosyak thought in silence. He thought for a long, long time. Long enough for it to be awkward. But before Sharon could break the emptiness herself… "It will be so." He turned towards her for the first time. He took her offering of a bottle. He looked at it. Looked back her. He took a deep swig. It is time, he thought. "You spoke with Yeshi," he said. "That was not… mmmm… safe. Question, I have for you, Reaper. Be you my…" There was power in putting thoughts to words. He shook his head. He couldn't say it. He changed the subject once more. "If you needed to leave this place, could you do so? I would not have you come to harm." “It has been touched upon in our conversations before”, Sharon said after a while, “That my presence at any given place is a fleeting thing. This contrasts with the Peak, static and eternally unmoving. If there is a most fundamental difference between us, it would be within our transience.” Sharon smiled softly, “You are an important friend of mine, Bosyak. But tell me this: would you still wish to keep me, knowing it is not my nature to be kept?” "What is desired and what is right." He shook his head. "Very different. Very different. I would not stop you. I only ask that you leave… mmmm... quickly. Break, it will, my- my heart. You are my friend. My only friend. And I will long for your company until the end of my existence." He exhaled. The weight on his shoulders, the pit in his stomach, was gone. He straightened his back. He drank deep and laughed. "We are friends!" he bellowed, the sound carrying down the mountain, echoing off the rockwalls, the sound of a great and terrible thunderstorm to the ears of the mortals. With heavy feet, and for the first time in possibly ever, the God of the Peak began to dance. “Hah”, Sharon snorted, in a good-natured sort of way, “We sure as hell are.” Sharon joined the dance. And she had moves. Moves to last long into the night, and forge another treasured memory. OOC: Fluff. I think it's important...
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Dec 9, 2021 20:52
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Sharon – Sab-sura DP: 3/6, Wounds: None It was a calm, overcast day. Good for fishing, good for being alone with your thoughts. Though today, the latter was not to be. “Hey”, spoke Sharon, addressing the mortal fisherman wrangling in his nets, “Caught your prayer. And sure, I’m down for a chat.” She peered at him from under the brim of her Accan straw hat, now several centuries out of style, “Been a bit. Sorry about that.” A man that was neither young nor old looked up from where he’d been standing at the edge of a pier, gazing out over a busy Sab-suran port, and his eyes widened slightly. He had a bushy beard (not magnificently so, but clearly working on it), was quite weather-bit - too much of Solene’s light - and wore sailor’s getup, though a captain’s coat draped his shoulders. A stiff bottle of grog was held in one hand, open, but untouched. “Huh. Wondered whether I’d catch ye.” The man nodded slowly to himself as he looked her up and down, confirming some ancient oral-story description, then reached out with his free hand, large and swarthy, and smiled. “Atom. Atom Antonidas, freeboater. How are ye?” “Nice to meet you, Atom”, Sharon smiled, “And I’m alright, generally speaking”, she scratched her neck a bit awkwardly, “It’s just that I’ve been busy with God Business, and this World has some really, really major God Business to take care of, let me tell you.” She kept smiling, but there was a regretful tinge in her eyes. “Really, I should be asking you guys how you have been doing. I’ve been kind of neglecting the whole ‘Shepherd Of The People’ bit due to the aforementioned God Business, you see. And also because it has like, never been my actual job until I came to this World.” Atom scratched thoughtfully at his beard, then shrugged. “I s’pose I could say somethin’ proper chidin’, like… how yer about a century too late to make a difference in how people live around here. But I s’pose that wouldn’t be fair, what with God Business. Mortals best leave the divine to their works, so say the texts ye handed off on my great-great-’n-so-on-pappy. ‘n we do remember what ye have said, too. No chattin’ with loose-lipped herons, oh nay.” He grinned and pointed to a piece of signage that said much to the same effect. “But how we’ve been? I won’t speak to the past, but the present’s not too right. Takes a man a boat to be truly free these days - and so: freeboater. No lord, no land, just salt and what the sea provides. We hold some trade, the fisheries, the whaling stations, the floating villages. Not too bad a life, all told. ‘Course..” He gestured at the factory at the dock where a steam boat being manufactured could be seen, and the many uniformed policing men that stood guard. “There’s them what aims to hold that too, I reckon.” “Yeah…”, Sharon looked at the guards in the distance, “Not too atypical, this kind of thing, in the myriad Worlds. Been hearing chatter from ol’ Mez and his progeny that things have been getting, frankly, a bit poo poo, surface-side”, she sighed, “I even liked the Humanists, you know? Just couldn’t fit dealing with that stuff on my schedule and now they’re basically wiped out. If it’s any consolation, I think Mezidec is moving to make things a bit better for you people, and you can probably expect results in relatively soon on a Divine timescale…”, an awkward pause, “Meaning, like, within a decade or two?” She looked into the distance, “I can share you some of the details of the God Business if you’d like, though I warn you in advance that a lot of it is heavy stuff and people definitely won’t believe you unless I make you a prophet or something, and I can’t really guarantee I’ll have the juice to spare”, she paused for a bit again, “Consider it a good faith attempt to explain what I’ve been up to so that I don’t come across as even more of a slob than I am.” Atom gave her a long look, then shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’d probably make a poo poo prophet anyway. It‘s just in the nature of a sailor to whine about the wind when it’s blowing the wrong direction.” He brought up the bottle, then poured a bit of it out into the salty sea of the harbor, staring out into the distance, towards the edge of the ocean. “Don’t mind me - we’ve got our own rites these days, ‘n as you prob’ly ken, we’ve lost good people of late. Whatever ye’d care to share, lay it out, and I’ll pass it on, in me own manner. Or maybe I find somethin’ more worthwhile t’ do, dependin’.” Sharon produced a bottle of her own, from beneath her robes. Some sort of local spirit? She then proceeded to pour one out herself, a faint smile on her face, “Casual, but respectful. Also, involves booze. I was always a big fan of this particular one.” She watched the alcohol disappear beneath the waves, her gaze lingering, until she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Alright”, Sharon spoke, “Enough faffing about.” “So, the Mountain is actually the skull of a dead Titan, which is basically a God but way bigger and meaner. I’ve been mostly looking into that, and what it means.” She was silent for a moment. “And what I’ve found out is that it means there’s going to be some sort of Apocalypse within like, the next couple centuries, at the latest.” She frowned, a bit, “Promise me you’re not going to get all pariah doomsayer on me, though. The Pantheon has contingencies in place for some sort of exodus, and even then, it’s the nature of Worlds to die eventually, just like people do. Try not to worry about it too much, basically, since worrying too much about it is our job.” Atom looked at Sharon. Then he looked at the bottle he held and somehow did not take a swig. “Perhaps I should’ve emphasized the heavy part of the ‘it’s heavy stuff’ bit”, Sharon cocked her head slightly as she looked at the man, “How are you holding up? We can talk about it, if you want.” The man shook his head, then began to look bemused. “Nah, god-gerl. I don’t expect there’s a whole lot what I can do about somethin’ like this, aye? Just… thinkin’ about what it’s s’posed to mean. Like… all this?” He waved at the ocean, the apparent source of his mirth. “Have I been sailin’ a literal sea of tears, then?” He paused, and turned to Sharon, then a little more. “And will some child o’ child o’ child o’ mine get to sail the River to the Myriad Worlds? And will it be better’n… that.” Atom pointed towards the policing men - but also the steam ship, the city behind them, the growing factories, the Celestial Shrines in the temple district, the Union of the Plains, the Mountain. His brows furrowed. “Or is it to be first come, and firsts amongst equals only.” “Oho”, Sharon snorted, “Let me tell you, a whole lot of those people are not going to end up where they think they will, and I can tell you that without even being a Yama.” “As per where I’ll be going next, well, I assume I’ll be reunited with an old friend of mine for that one. And she’s a girl that sacrificed a bunch of her power to help local mortals even though she totally knew it would result in her having to do like, several millennia of busywork as punishment. She’s not perfect, but definitely better at avoiding, well, that sort of thing”, she nodded at the guards, “and would not have neglected all the business I have.” “Can’t promise it will be better”, she concluded, “Because the Worlds are myriad, and that’s a lot of things they could be. But it definitely will be in better company, and whosoever is on the River or its end at that point I’ll take with.” Atom nodded, his brow un-furrowing almost as quickly as it had furrowed. Whether he believed in Sharon, or believed the matter was simply out of his hands, he didn’t push further. “I’ll remember that, god-gerl. I expect others will too, the ones who might believe. As for… this ‘sea devil’ business.” He turned back to the sea and deployed his mightiest shrug yet - an apologetic one, this time. “Fellow who witnessed the latest sinking - from afar - was drunk as a skunkfish, to be honest. Could’ve been a freak wave, a capsize, for all I reckon. Just thought somethin’ with the tinge o’ truth would get ye down here, at least, what with the herons bein’ out of the question and ye bein… a slob, was it?” The sailor grinned at her, though his expression sobered up as he continued. “We have been losin’ more’n we should, is all I know. Bad luck is bad luck, especially at sea. This is worse luck, on better people than worse luck ought to happen to, if ye catch m’drift. But, well… if ye’d prefer mortal matters to remain so, all ye have to do is to not ask around. I certainly shan’t take ye t’ task if ye don’t.” Sharon nodded. “Mayhaps I’ll look into it”, she said, “And I’ll definitely listen to the stories of the dead at sea, at the very least. Can’t guarantee I’ll have enough time and power to deal with or hunt down a beast that might not even exist, though. If it does, could be many things, like a monster from beyond the Veil, or some detritus left by that dead Titan, or who knows what. But even if I can’t do it, I’ll at least try to get those newborn lowland Gods to safekeep the sailors.” Atom rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed by that promise. “Pfah, just tell them to leave us our freedoms. They may mean well, but they can’t be everywhere, and their ‘help’ comes with terms and conditions, like so much else. ‘n if ye ask me, that Finibus fella is far too high-strung… though he packs a respectable wallop, when pushed. I’d hate t’ see ‘im let proper loose, ‘n not hold back.” The freeboater captain rubbed his bearded jaw, wincing at the memory of said wallop, then he chuckled again and held out his hand for a final shake. “At any rate, Sharon, it’s appreciated. No promises required, I appreciate th’ talk, th’ truth, and I won’t hold ye down. Do what ye will - and I shall too, like any true freeboater. ‘Till then… see ye around.” “Oh, I will see you around”, Sharon winked, a mischievous smile on her face, “For one final time, if nothing else. That much is a promise.” “Until then, have a good life, and prepare some nice stories to share while you’re at it.” “See you~” And with that, she was gone. Atom glanced around for a moment and took a deep breath, willing his beating heart to calm. Sure, he’d tussled with a demigod once, but that didn’t mean facing down the divine was easy. He looked towards the bar where his crew still sat lightly - almost suspiciously lightly - carousing while on their shore leave. The captain jostled the bottle in his hand, and weighed its heft - he hadn’t emptied out too much, then glanced in the direction of the steamship factory and its dedicated guard contingent. A couple of factors warred in his head until things came down on the side of safety and instead of putting in the wick, he finally took a hefty draught instead and wiped his mouth, grimacing at the taste of cheap, flammable, liquor, and he looked with sympathy out across the ocean, his mind on the spirits he’d poured the spirit for. “Blech. Sorry lads. Should’ve gotten somethin’ a bit more appropriate for th’ occasion. Who’d figure she’d actually show?” With a laugh, he headed back to the rest of his crew. He had quite a tall tale to tell - but that was nothing new for Captain Atom Antonidas, Freeboater Revolutionary. OOC: Answering a prayer with fluff.
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Dec 9, 2021 23:34
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Mezidec – At the river, exchanging information with Sharon DP: 3/6, Wounds: None A communication tunnel through conceptual space just outside the borders of the Reaper’s demesne. The voice of the Light at the End of the Tunnel emerges. “Sharon, is now a good time to talk? I have things to share, and something to ask.” “Any time, Mezidec”, a voice echoed back the tunnel, “Just hop on in~” A fine mist of mica particles emerged at speed and shaped themselves into a manifestation of Mezidec, before the tunnel widened just enough to eject a large pair of bottles, caught deftly in the forming hands. “Here. I noticed some of the product of the Concordian distilleries had… let’s say an interesting afterlife. Progress and innovation has taken recent batches in interesting directions, and I would rather be a respectable guest given what I intend to ask later. But first, witness the foundations of the Bore Contingency, as I and Finibus laid them, and that which remains to be done.” “Haha, what a gent you are”, Sharon was in her usual spot on a tropical beach, taking in some sun. She manifested glasses out of nowhere, “Feel free to pour, and speak your mind.” Mezidec did so, though only availing himself of the one glass. Into the other, he let some of his substance flow, along with a symbolic drop of the beverage. Being flexible in composition but constrained in type of material rendered eating and drinking as unknowables to the Kindly Shelter, save for their value to communities or as wealth. “There is a great deal still to do, and an unknown, but I feel decreasing, amount of time in which to do it. We still need to locate a place to go, bridge to there, and once everything is in place, bring everything over before the encroaching cataclysm, should one manifest.” He raised his glass, and touched it briefly to her liquid-filled one. The glasses impacted with a delightful little chime. “Cheers”, Sharon took a sip from her own glass. It was good poo poo. For a being without the usual sensations of mortals (or so Sharon at least presumed), Ol’ Mez was still really good at picking the best stuff, regardless of what it was, “Anyways, we should talk about that. I was actually in the process of compiling what me and Haniyu just learned not long ago into a message for the all of you, because it’s, like, super important. But I’ll give you a short version right now.” She rose to a sitting position, and took another sip, “Basically, we continued where we left off last age, and decoded the dead Titan’s will. And the best we can now surmise, it used to be a Big poo poo Overlord type, but got bored of life and then decided to die just to see what it was like. Now though, it’s bored of death, and, well, the last verses are a bit vague on this, but it either wants to come back to life or die like, a death past Death. A True Death. The Ultimate Megadeath”, she shook her head, “Sorry, getting off track. Basically, the gist is, that is a Titanic will, right? So whatever it wants will happen on its terms if something else does not happen on ours, and, well, uhh…” She paused for a bit. “And this is difficult for me to say, but… the Bureaucracy definitely will not wait for it to resurrect, or wait to see what it wants, and will take immediate steps to stop that from happening, because Titans are a pain to deal with. Haniyu told me that they’re already mobilizing, and that means we will likely have an Executioner Troupe or similar on our hands next age at the latest if we haven’t handled the issue by then. And they will make it their business to dismantle the threat.” “So yeah, a Cataclysm is definitely manifesting”, she concluded, “That is confirmed. And we have… a hundred, maybe two hundred years to get it all done.” “I’ll help, obviously.” Stony silence from the one formed of the matter of the mountain as the existential threat went from probable to actual. Eventually, he spake, “Well, at least we know how long we have, and we have a head start. Pun unintentional, given where we are. We need to find a new place, or perhaps even grow one, a completely nontitanic mountain somewhere where we can collapse the path behind us. Do your courts have a procedure for asylum? Executioner troupes sound fairly terminal and not just for the thing that’s already dead. Multiple executioners, multiple targets, yes? Let’s see what support we can rally from the others.” He paused, then switched track. “Oh, and there’s the other matter. Personal, but that has a great deal of importance. It’s our son, our creation Finibus. He is dedicated to his task, supremely so, utterly so. Pushes himself to the edge of what he can bear, and he’s a demigod, so that’s a truly insane load he’s bringing on himself. It’s an unending workload, much like, in some ways, the disposition and ferrying of every soul must be. I’m proud of his drive, his perseverance… but perfection must include perfection of self, and perfection of self requires self-care. Could you, I don’t know, advise him? Have a word? Teach him the virtues of not going full throttle all the time everywhere with no maintenance, even in the face of infinite work still to do? Please?” “Hah”, the faintest smirk on Sharon’s uncharacteristically glum countenance, “Now that brings me back. Sure, I’ll have a chat with our little overperformer. I know somebody with that exact issue, even.” “As per the Troupe, I’d expect a single Executioner, they usually don’t hang out with each other, but a Bailiff escort is probable. And I don’t think they will specifically try and attack any of you unless you attack first. It’s just that they will bring cessation to the Titan, and whether you live or die due to it will be a secondary consideration.” “As per Asylum”, Sharon pursed her lips as she thought, “There probably is some sort of schema for that, but if there is it’s likely because the Celestials really like their schemas and make up all kinds of Standards Of Operation for the hell of it. Our issue is that, well, interfacing directly with the Bureaucracy is a pain, and also slow. If we had, say, five hundred years, or a thousand years, yeah maybe some process could be undertaken. We don’t really have that sort of time, though, so I fear we’ll have to mostly rely on ourselves for this one”, she stroked her chin, “I could try and have Haniyu access the local dimensional charts? That seems like the best way to figure out the best nearby targets to get to. And he owes me for kinda skipping work last Age, even if that was unintentional.” “Thank you. It sounds like a good next step, though we’ll see what gets mooted when next we all meet. I’ll see you then.” As an afterthought, part of his substance formed a cooling bucket for the remaining bottle, the remainder going back through the tunnel which duly vorped out. Sharon watched as Mezidec left, and only when she was sure he was entirely gone, did she ditch the glass and start drinking straight from the bottle. ooc: Fluff. Judge its importance for yourself.
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Dec 10, 2021 00:00
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Just a word in your ear, my lord... Bergeros proved more effective at instilling terror than his ordinary demeanour suggested. In fact, his multifaceted benevolence made it all the worse when he visited each oligarch in private, bent down to whisper, and delivered an itemised and impossibly-detailed list of all their atrocities. It wasn’t just the public oppression, or even just that and the more private brutality committed to maintain their grasp on power. It was every single thing time they’d hurt anyone at all using the power of their position. Memories forgotten bubbled back into their ears. Safety curdled into despair. God was in his heaven, and all was not right on earth—and now, god was voicing his displeasure through the civil and respectful third party, who also happened to be an eight foot tall demigod, who also happened to be his son. Then came the ultimatum: mend your ways, or I will break you in ways you cannot fathom. At last, they had a little taste of what it was like to be their own subjects. It didn’t take long for shackles to open and fasces to scatter. The tyrants were losing their grip... ...and the much-exploited labourers of the nation of Sab-sura took this as their fleeting chance at true freedom, and hanged the tyrants from the gates of their palaces. Thus, Sab-sura became the first ‘free city’ of the fourth Age. OOC: Threatening the tyrants: 5d6k1+4d6k1 12 vs target 9. Domain: 14, Hunger: 15. Consequence—the industrial and port capital of Sab-sura revolts against their leaders and becomes a free city. However, life is slowly improving elsewhere regardless thanks to the extensive threats made by Bergeros on Mezidec’s behalf. - DP status: Bosyak: 6/6 Mezidec: 4/6 ----- (-3 for threats, +1 for prayer) Solene/Mona: 6/6 Sharon: 4/6 ----- (+1 for prayer) Tectamus: 2/3 Haniyu: 2/3 Bergeros: 2/3 ----- (-1 for threats) Finibus: 3/3 UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 11:42 on Dec 10, 2021 |
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Dec 10, 2021 08:45
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Sharon – Near the Corpse of a Dead Titan hopefully with everyone? DP: 4/6, Wounds: None A bottled message found itself to every God and Demigod within the Mountain, a method used by Sharon for mass-contact by now familiar. "Hi, everyone. So, I've been looking into this whole 'There Is A Dead Titan And We're Living In Its Skull' business with Haniyu, as we agreed upon, and we've finally reached somewhat of a conclusion, or at least the most accurate reading of the Titan's history we can manage. I've included a full transcript of our findings in this letter, but will also describe them here, in summary: So, this Titan used to rule a World composed of its own body, inhabited by at least mortals (no mention of auxiliary Divinities or anything), and largely spent its time enjoying their works, and all the other things life had to offer. Thing is, it got too ancient, and in getting too ancient, it got bored of living and wanted to see what Death would feel like. This leads us to our Decapitated Titan scenario, and you might think this is where it would also end. But that's incorrect, since that is where it actually starts to get spicy. See, we are not dealing with your usual Divinity, we are dealing with a Titan. And whilst the likes of us would just dissipate after annihilating our Godhead, with a dead Titan, it seems, a remnant of will remains, even in Death. And the Remnant is saying that after a time, it has grown bored of being dead as well. The solution it seeks for this is... actually a bit vague. The final verse of its message can either be read as it wanting to resurrect (this would be bad for you, since it would mean a total transformation of the Mountain into something completely alien, and also the Titan probably won't take well to you inhabiting its head), or it wanting to die an actual, true Death (this would be bad for you, since it's the Titanic essence that has kept your World so abnormally stable, and it disappearing will mean the Mountain is going to dissolve into the surrounding Chaotic Space). You can check the transcript if you want, to see how we came to the conclusion. Anyways, this presents us with an issue, because the Titanic will seeks one of these outcomes, and it will, eventually, make them happen by its own hand. That is where the whole Doomy & Gloomy feel I've been getting for a couple of Ages was likely coming from. But more than that, uh, the Bureaucracy is not going to tolerate an unchecked Titan manifesting, because Titanic relations are a pain to manage. So they are going to force a particular outcome, and they are on emergency mode to see it happen. Haniyu told me they're already mobilizing, which means we can probably expect an Executioner Troupe or similar to arrive by the next Age at the latest. And they are going to reduce this World to rubble, with little regard to how many locals perish in the process. TL;DR: The Apocalypse is coming, and we have maybe 200 years or so to make our contingencies a reality. I feel we should probably have a moot about this. I've included a map to the Titan's body. Seems like the most appropriate place to hold it. With much love, Sharon" OOC: Fluff to invite everybody (Gods and Demigods all welcome!) to the Apocalypse Moot Theantero fucked around with this message at 14:20 on Dec 10, 2021 |
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Dec 10, 2021 14:17
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Sharon – Near the Corpse of a Dead Titan with the rest of the Gods (except Yeshi who is having a nap) DP: 4/6, Wounds: None A deck of lacquered wood had been constructed overlooking the dead Titan, paper lanterns granting soft light and shadows to this miniscule pocket of real space within the otherwise dangerous territory. Sharon was sitting on an ornately carved chair, sipping the last of the spirits brought to her by Mezidec, as she waited for arrivals. A tunnel aperture came into being, the light at the end of it quickly enveloped by durable granite, granular for ease of expression. Mezidec acquired his form peering over the edge of the deck, at the body from whence the head from which he had sprung originated. After a while, he voiced, “That’s quite something, isn’t it? Though I’m not sure why it’d need so many decapitation strikes when one would likely suffice, given Titanic will.” The faintest smile could be seen on Sharon’s face, “Maybe they just wanted to go out in style?” “That tracks, what with ‘Dying to see what it was like’ and ‘Bored now, self-resurrecting’ as bookends of their post-mortality,” mused the Kindly Shelter. “Oh, and two of mine send apologies for absence, Tectamus trusts us to resolve the matter, and Finibus claims to be too busy.” Sharon clicked her tongue, “Really need to have a chat with that kid. Nobody that young is that busy.” “I did ask,” chided Mezidec good-naturedly, “But it’s fair to say we’ve had a lot on our respective plates. The situation on the slopes is mostly improving, one revolutionary slippage aside, though it could still be faster.” Sharon laughed, “I know, I know”, she took a sip from her glass, “But I was already in the process of setting this moot up at the time. Seemed like the most important thing to get done, you know. I’ll get to it later, though.” “As per revolutions, well”, Sharon shrugged, “They tend to happen. And can’t say there aren’t people there who didn’t kinda have it coming.” “True enough,” conceded Mezidec, “and it can’t be denied that those who hung upon the walls of Sab-Sura formed a useful exclamation point to my and Bergeros’ intervention. ‘Or else’ given form.” “Corpses make for strong statements”, Sharon nodded in agreement. “Ideally, that wouldn’t be necessary. But they certainly do help to focus the mind.” Mezidec gestured towards the Titan. Sharon snorted, “Yeah… Can’t even remember the last time I’ve spent this long actually focusing on work.” Bosyak appeared, sitting on his rock. Unfortunately, a portion of the rock just so happened to pop into existence where there was already a table. Wood cracked and splintered. Glasses fell, shattered. Papers scattered. He sat there, frozen, for a moment before snorting uncomfortably. He gently placed Sharon’s message bottle onto the table. It was filled with wildflowers. He straightened his shoulders. “I bring… mmmm... beauty from the Nomadlands.” Sharon cackled, “Ah, you’re a riot.” She inspected the bottle and the flowers within, and then gingerly picked one and tied it to her hair, before setting the rest down on a smaller table to the side. Bosyak watched her intensely. His ears twitched. “But anyways… you did actually read my letter, right?” “Yes,” he said. “Haniyu invited interlopers... mmmm... Killers.” He scratched his cheek. “Why did you tell us? Are they not yours?” He looked over at Mezidec. “Where shall we war them, Enricher? The River? The Mountain?” Mezidec gestured towards the Titan. “It may be that neither exists in their present form when they arrive, esteemed Bosyak. There may not be a Mountain as we know it to defend.” Sharon sighed, “I was afraid of this”, she steepled her fingers, “Look, first of all, it’s not so much that Haniyu personally invited anyone, it’s just that info about our work flows to the Bureaucracy as a matter of course. Literally thousands of reapers make the journey to the Halls daily, and we don’t write all those reports for show.” “Second of all, fighting them would not solve the issue, since the issue is borne from the Titan. The end is coming regardless of what you do, and wasting all your power engaging in Godwar will just doom this whole World.” “Third…”, Sharon turned her face away, gazing at the Titan in the distance, “It’s an Executioner Troupe. I suspect the reason they are involved is because the Bureaucracy seeks to slay a Titan and be certain it gets done, so they should not be overtly hostile towards all of you, unless you make the first move.” “And, like”, she seemed sad, “Please don’t? They only let Gods that have slain others become Executioners in the first place. You talk of Godmurder and Godwar but you’ve never committed it. An Executioner is a professional. So like, I don’t want to see you try and fight one, ever. They’re probably going to have a Bailiff retinue too, just in case.” Bosyak kept his eyes on Mezidec. Mezidec’s eyes of fine stone met those of Brother Yak. “She’s right, and she speaks the truth. Long story short, the mountain will become a Titan head by Titanic will, or an inert lifeless husk by Titanic will, or by the act of a Godmurderer. This isn’t an enemy we can bludgeon to death with hooves, and with fists of diamond.” After a moment, the Herd-of-One sighed. He looked past his fellow Gods to the corpse of the great Titan. He placed a hand over his heart and closed his eyes. “So Bosyak stands alone.” He bowed his head and then he was gone, back to the Peak. Sharon’s bottle of wildflowers and a half-broken table left in his wake. Mezidec sighed, and sent through a tunnel after him. “You are not alone. I’ve already been fighting this for hundreds of years. Talk to me when you’re ready.” before quickly closing it. “...I do sort of get him, though”, Sharon spoke, sadly, “Bosyak, for all intents and purposes, is the Peak. Gods like that often elect to go down fighting. Where would he go if there is no Peak, after all?” she was silent for a moment, “I do agree that we should try and make an attempt to convince him, however.” “I had hoped we’d have a straightforward answer to that question by now, and we definitely will have if the Bore Contingency succeeds. ‘Here is The Peak anew, everything is going there.’ But even that is going to be hard to shape into acceptability for him. We’ll see if he takes up that offer, if he does I can see about bringing you in, but I suspect we’ll need a more concrete plan that looks as if it aligns with his worldview when we present it,” commented the Kindly Shelter. Solene and Mona gently descend onto the deck, floating down arm in arm. “Looks like I have missed Brother Yak.” Both said with a single voice. “Perhaps that is for the best. We have not spoken since the Sundering and this is neither the time nor the place.” The goddesses strid to the edge of the platform to look at the titanic corpse floating before them. They stand there for a time before shuddering in unison. “Everything about this place feels wrong, there is no light, no firmament, nothing.” They tear their gaze away from the sight and turn to face the others, putting the ghastly sight behind them. “You seem to consider the options of final death and resurrection interchangeably, but aren’t they very different? Suppose it wants to live again and we find a way to slow down or prevent it, would it fade out and die?” The sister’s waited for a moment before resuming in their shared voice. “If its desire to live is strong enough to bring it back from titanic suicide, to mend the wounds its will inflicted, I think it would not let itself fade. In time it would find a way to live again, and its time is orders of magnitudes larger than ours. I say if it wants to live so badly, it can wait until we are done first.” Mona sighed while Solene peeked back at the carcass over her shoulder. “If it truly craves its final death though, then we have no leverage at all.” Sharon considered Mona’s words, for a time, before responding, “The process is underway already, as I told you… but yes, perhaps, if it truly wishes to live again, there might be a way to slow the process down… for a long enough time at least, that the Bureaucracy could be mollified to seek a gentler approach, and to grant enough time for you all to come to proper grips with the situation. And perhaps, to seek answers that aren’t emergency solutions taped together at the last minute.” She frowned, “However… that will not be easy, either. First of all, the message decoded from the Titan is a cryptic one, and we truly do not know which of the two it wants. And should the will to live be verified, then we must find a way to slow the process down, also. And convince the coming Executioner Troupe that this is acceptable…” “...You’re a Goddess of Secrets, yes, Mona?” Sharon spoke, her gaze resting on the Titan, “Perhaps that Domain can uncover the true meaning behind the last symbols where our analysis has failed to give concrete results? At least, that is the first step I would take if we were to go with your suggestion.” Mona’s eyebrows shot up. “I… I have always seen that as more of a hobby of mine but I think you are right.” Solene and Mona exchange a synchronized glance. “It is definitely worth a try at the very least, though I feel like it will be quite a bit more challenging than mortal secrets. In the meantime, while we do indeed not know which way the thing behind us wants to go, it wanting to live is our only chance to save the mountain so we might want to think about how to hold its body hostage sooner rather than later. If it wants to die, I don’t see what we can do except save as many mortals as we can. As I said, no leverage.” “I’ve been working on that,” interjected the Light at the End of the Tunnel. “The Bore Contingency, an escape tunnel for everything on, within or in the vicinity of Skull Mountain, so that not a life is lost, no deity needs to make a heroic last-minute sacrifice, and all our creations are retained. A new place beyond the reach of this Titan. The toughest part would be diverting Bosyak from the warpath. That said, he pays his debts, and given what happened to the Palace, it may be there’s one outstanding.” “You may be right. I hope it will not come to this, but if it does I will call in any favour I can to save that stubborn old Bull from himself.” “I have missed much of what transpired during the last age, I had to take some time to… find myself.” A sad smile touched both faces. “But should you need any help with the Bore Contingency, I will be happy to help in any way I can, better safe than sorry.” Sharon waited for a while, after the conversation had faded, until finally speaking, “Righto. I suppose that means we have our plans for the immediate future set.” “Good luck, everyone.” OOC: It be the Apocalypse Moot
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Dec 11, 2021 17:21
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Solene and Mona - The Fortress of Dusk and Dawn DP 6/6 Wounds None The twin Goddesses are standing on a parapet of the palace, looking through the mountain at the Theosophists expedition. They are not quite sure what to do about it, but for now they decide to wait. It is very tempting to help them, at least up to a point. Mortals really could be delightful. A bell rings, echoing through the halls. The sisters hug and Mona steps off the wall, on her way to the Celestial Path. --- During their absence in the last age, the prayers really had piled up. It was time for some housecleaning. quote:“Look, they've been debating it for decades now, but the game's worn thin so I'll just come out and ask. O' Solene, Mona, why don't the gods do more? You're, well, gods. For all the amazing things you do, why don't you do, well, more of them? Seriously, we've got more speculative texts written on the things we think you could do than the things you have done.” Solene appears to the mortal in their kitchen, doing her best to restrain her light, though they still have to aver their gaze. "How much the gods have done? How would you know?" Solene said "The gods do many things, some are visible, evident, some are not. And yet the latter are no less important and no less worthy of our attention." She picks up a cabbage from the supplicant's shelf. It immediately turns to ash in her incandescent grasp. "We are different. I will never know what it means to eat, be it a feast or just scraps. You will never know what it is to do godly acts, be they miracles or invisible. But I am not asking you why you invest so much time in preparing food, when eating food raw and unseasoned would serve you just as well." And just as quickly as she had arrived, Solene vanishes in a streak of light. quote:"Mona, keeper of secrets... which god created us? In whose image were we made? I can find no reliable legend or divine writing that speaks of this. Everyone seems to have their own opinion, or none at all." "As I have told the Theosophists a long, long time ago, images don't apply to use. We are beings of concept, not form. What you see here," Mona gestures at herself, "is a courtesy, a form that you can understand and recognize. The human shape is its own, it was not taken from any of us." Mona makes a quick exit, hoping that the mortal is too awe-struck to notice that she dodged the more important part of the question. quote:"O' Solene, who labours so thanklessly. Your work, your words and deeds, the very essence of your selfless guidance and your life-giving light, is being rejected even by so-called followers of Mona! Your divinity should never be questioned so! What am I to do? None may go to war, but if naught else at least grant me the power to smite with conviction alone, so that I can see you honored again!" "You are a fool. Do you think I do my work to impress humankind? To garner followers?" Solene struggled to contain her fire. "I do my work because it is the right thing to do and I do my work out of love, love for the work and love for your kind. Why would I be jealous of my sister? She is my kin and my partner. I cannot stand watch day and night over you, I cannot give light day and night. Honoring her work is honoring our work is honoring my work." She extends a finger, light gathering at its tip. "Do not search for reasons to hate you neighbor and never again use me as an excuse for doing so, for this is a real offense made to me." --- Mona - Near the Corpse of the Titan Mona stares at the floating corpse and sighs. She brings up Sharon's transcript again and stares at the symbols and their interpretations. This was nothing like mortal secrets. No point in putting it off. Mona shakes her hair, knocking loose a myriad of tiny stars. "Seek out the others and let them know that I am going to try to figure this out." She scans the pages. "I am not sure I can do this on my own." The stars zip off, back to the mountain, and Mona focusses. Her eyes dart back and forth between the carcass and the transcripts, trying to discern the hidden meanings, trying to read between the lights, trying to see through the corpse. Going to try and shed some light on what the Titan really wants. Using the Secrets and Light domains for 4 DP and the Curiosity and Security hungers for 3 HP. If another god joins in (even just fluff) adding 1 more DP for the Unity domain because it's nice thematically.
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Dec 12, 2021 13:21
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Decades of tweaking the algorithm were starting to pay off: pre:O solitude! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,— Mountain’s observatory—whence the verge, Its fossilised slopes, its river’s crystal surge, May seem a span … Note: the poem above (the start of John Keats’ Sonnet VII) is just a figurative representation, I don’t really know how I’d write poetry in Tectamus’ self-made(?) pictogram language. - The Theosophists always knew the expedition would be dangerous. They discovered just how dangerous when the pathfinding expeditions lost nearly half their members to the void. Still, the more they knew about the barren and deadly terrain of the antimountain, the safer their journeys became. After all, it was only lifeless rock. Climbing to the Peak was a far deadlier proposition, what with the fire of Solene’s barrier keeping things out and the ice of Bosyak’s storms lying in wait. Step by step, they set up caches along the way—even little farms carved into the surface, growing lightless Concordian crops—and finally had a route in place to climb to the very bottom of the world, a place beyond mortal reason. The final expedition set off on a cold grey morning under cover of the sea-fog pouring over the rim of the world. Eight Monian Theosophists, hungry for unclouded vision of the divine; fifty-three porters who’d managed to extract a princely sum for their services; and a scattering of others who’d bribed, threatened, or otherwise finagled their way onto the team. Three months into their journey, they hit the first problem they hadn’t accounted for: the sea-storm of the century, which thrashed several ports into flinders, eventually spiralled off the edge of the world and down the side of the antimountain. It scoured the rock like a starving leopard gnawing on bones. OOC: The expedition is all set up and all preliminary anti-mountaineering is done, at some human cost (you can decide whether or not Solene/Mona intervened to save them somehow at no cost; either way, the mortals knew what they were getting into). They’ve begun the final stage: the full expedition all the way to the anti-peak. Unfortunately, they’ve run into an unforeseen problem: a terrible storm from the world above that threatens to blow them and/or their supplies off the mountain. The expedition will make it through, but maybe not with everyone/everything intact. - DP status: Bosyak: 6/6 Mezidec: 4/6 Solene/Mona: 9/6 ----- (+3 for prayers (cost for titan investigation will happen later)) Sharon: 4/6 Tectamus: 1/3 ----- (-1 for poetry algorithm development) Haniyu: 2/3 Bergeros: 2/3 Finibus: 3/3
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Dec 12, 2021 14:44
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Sharon – Near the Corpse of a Dead Titan with Mona DP: 4/6, Wounds: None "Hi, Mona~" It hadn't taken too long for Sharon to appear. She was using the star as a hair clip. "Got your message", she spoke, leaning against the railing of the deck whilst gazing at the Titan, "And as a fellow Titan interpreter I know exactly how much of a pain in the butt that can be, so I thought to come and help out a bit. Also asked Haniyu if he'd be willing to help out with the esoteria that is his notes, but I'm kinda already holding him on retainer for mapping the local Worlds for potential evacuation spots in case... that is what we'll end up having to do. So who knows if he'll actually show." For a moment longer, she merely stared at the dead Divinity in silence, before sighing. "I really am sorry it had to come to this, but the planes are as they are. Let's get to it~" OOC: Helping Mona out with a Transitions to help coax the unknown into known to the tune of 1 DP. Also adding 1 HP of Merrymaking to represent her high energy, but potentially distracting presence. Since this is not my action, Bosyak's sculpture shouldn't trigger. Also asking Haniyu if he wants to help out by explaining his methodology in detail, but his most important task is still doing the astral mapping if we need that, and in case he is unwilling to do both, this one will have to be the one he'll get to skip.
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Dec 12, 2021 15:01
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Mezidec – At the titan, answering Mona's summons DP: 4/6, Wounds: None A star glimmers, space distorts, a passage opening up and a deity manifesting through it, the summoning star melding with the Light at the end of the Tunnel. "I heed the call, and offer what aid I can, though this is far from my bailiwick. If tunnelling in will help reveal what is buried, it will be so. Lending my support and good intentions in the spirit of community if nothing else." ooc: Mezidec would not leave a summon unheeded, though there's sufficient power directed at this already. Along for moral support and camaraderie. Providing 1 hunger due to Magnanimity, he wants to help. Mezidec – In the void, astral mapping for the Bore Contingency, with Haniyu, calling upon the Sisters DP: 4/6 > 2/6, Wounds: None It was not a pleasant place for a God of the Mountain to be, out in the beyond, but the Bore Contingency, whose necessity was thrown into stark relief by recent events, would be useless if they couldn't find anywhere to go. So, building upon His and Finibus' work from an earlier era, it was time to find some place they could go, a new world, or to sow the seeds for one. Blundering about blindly wasn't going to get anywhere, thus Mezidec called upon expert counsel. He sent a conceptual tunnel to the Sisters, and another to the river, for Sharon's associate Haniyu, and to call in the aid the Celestials had pledged at the Apocalypse Moot. They had a lot of not-ground to cover. ooc: The next phase of the Bore Contingency. Investing 2 DP (Preserving wealth for the good of their entire community) and 2 hunger (Magnanimity to help everyone and Progress refusing to contemplate an irrevocable end), requesting 1 of each from Haniyu at Sharon's instruction (and toning down our hunger contribution if they up theirs proportionate to the difference), calling upon the Sisters for another 2DP 1 Hunger.
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Dec 12, 2021 16:41
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Solene - The Celestial Path Mezidec's tunnel opens up next to her and Solene briefly pauses in her journey to send some of her power through it. The tunnel floods with solar light to help illuminate the void and reveal its secret havens. Just a quick post to pledge 2 DP via Light and 1 HP via Security
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Dec 12, 2021 17:32
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A god of secrets. A god of knowledge. A god of death. They examined the message. They examined what they could of the corpse. They looked over every inch of the surrounding astral sea, at every angle. There was nothing there. Mona looked at the remnants of the titan’s death message, frozen in the air like an echo stuck in time. There was the intended message, fairly clear with the Celestial’s explanation, but was there something more? Her eyes traced every aspect of it, every eddy of titanic might, every speck of intent it wrote into the Akashic record. Every little thing. There was nothing there. She kept on looking. Her eyes glazed over. That was when it hit her: there was something there! Like reading between the lines, it was a presence without presence. The three of them had, at last, wrung the final meaning from the titan’s death message:    . . . “Unclear. Almost illegible. Still, it’s something. If I had to say, these indicate ‘power’ reversed, and ‘duty’,” Haniyu said as he scanned over transcriptions of the discovery with what looked to Mona to be an inverse telescope. “The last one—well, you know that, I suppose.” He leaned back. “I’d say it might mean something along the lines of to return is the duty of the powerful, or perhaps submit to me, but... I’d rather not stake my reputation on a flawed translation, even—especially as this is Titanic Writ. I’m sorry, but we only have limited time, and I only have limited documents from the Library with which to interpret this... this titanic postscript.” He turned to the assembled gods. “I’m sorry, but at least this reveals a little more than you originally had.” OOC: Investigating the titan's corpse and death message further: 8d6k1+6d6k1 12 vs target 11. Domain: 21, Hunger: 25. Consequence—the message is, in a sense, encrypted or decayed, and Haniyu can’t interpret it with the time available. - Haniyu with his star-charts, guiding Solene and Mona’s starlights, shining the way for Mezidec’s tunnels. Four divines against the impossible odds of finding a better, safer universe on the other side of the void beyond void. Nothing here. Nothing there. Ah, something—no. Just a pocket of stability around a lump of rock that could barely support the weight of a single family of mortals, let alone a pantheon and their people. There was nowhere they could go that directly bordered the Mountain. Here, a world of limitless flame, fallout from a theo-technological accident. There, a toxic charnel pit left after a god of beauty decided that pollution was more fair than foul. Worlds of death, worlds of void, worlds of war; no place to make a home. There was nowhere they could go in the (relatively) near vicinity. Haniyu, of course, suggested one of many expansive universes under the Celestial Bureaucracy’s orderly rule. That might be safe... if the Bureaucracy could be trusted. The alternative was to stretch to their very limits and find somewhere so far away in space—or time—that almost nobody would ever find them. OOC: Route-planning for the Bore Contingency: 6d6k1+5d6k1 8 vs target 9. Domain: 15, Hunger: 10. No Consequence. Failure, but you can push it to a success with Consequence (as always, you describe the success, I describe the Consequence). Alternatively, you can submit to the mercy of the Celestial Bureaucracy, as per Haniyu’s suggestion. - DP status: Bosyak: 6/6 Mezidec: 2/6 ----- (-2 for BC route planning) Solene/Mona: 2/6 ----- (-5 for investigation, -2 for BC route planning) Sharon: 3/6 ----- (-1 for investigation) Tectamus: 1/3 Haniyu: 0/3 ----- (-1 for investigation, -1 for BC route planning) Bergeros: 2/3 Finibus: 3/3
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Dec 12, 2021 18:55
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Mezidec – In the void, astral mapping for the Bore Contingency, with Haniyu, by the light of the Sisters DP: 4/6 > 2/6, Wounds: None A lump of rock. An island of stability. Not enough to support everything, yet. Returning to that one find, Mezidec got to work. What was wealth, when you got down to it? For Mezidec, he had always placed the highest value on intangibles, on family, friendship, gifts. The bonds of community, people choosing to work together for the mutual good. Why that, and not material wealth? Why not gold and diamonds, good hard stone, pliable clay? Because, for Mezidec, born of the stuff of the mountain, the stuff of the mountain was his to command. A lump of rock. An island of stability. That was all he needed. That was the seed. That was the foundation. That was the Heart. A new Heart, for a new Mountain. This was going to drain him like never before. More so than begetting his beloved children. hands of stone extended towards the lump of rock, and began wrapping more material around it. Metal, stone, crystal. Basic elements, complex composites. Shape, size, quantity. More and more, in different solidity and consistency. More and more, layer upon layer, the full output of a Mountain God, pouring his all, his utmost, his very essence. They had not found a new mountain, but what they had found could become one. ooc: Forcing the success. Having found a stable area and a foundational rock, Mezidec tries to forge a mountain anew.
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Dec 12, 2021 19:11
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O Generosity, O Enricher, O Mezidec... Faced with apocalypse, the great god of the wealth of the world tore out his very heart that day, using it as the foundation for a better, safer world beyond the grasp of apocalypse. That’s the story they tell, anyway. OOC: Creating the new Mountain takes everything you have. Mezidec loses Wealth from his Domain. - Nobody expected the return of Kariarchus of Loom, the arrogant and defiant mortal who disappeared after converting to the nascent faith of the Yak in the prior Age. Lowland Yak-worship itself had vanished from the Mountain after it became clear that Bosyak was almost entirely uninterested in anything below the Peak. Few remembered one lost convert among the many who returned to worshipping Mezidec, Solene, and Mona. Few, however, was not none. A weathered old man with stark white hair appeared in the great marketplace of Loom and starting babbling about The Great Purgation and All-mighty Hunger’s Eye and Apocalypse. His incoherent gesticulations—at the Peak, the depths, the sun and moon, nearby shadows and streams—didn’t help convince anyone he had anything worth saying. Still, a few people recognised him. A great-nephew. A daughter. One or two children of old friends. They knew he was no ordinary madman, but that he—still alive after so long—must have been touched or taken by the divine. That he was here to spread a message on their behalf. That he was, in other words, a prophet, come to warn the world of the coming Doom. What little life was left in him still burned in spite of his great age. Each night he fervently prayed to find himself on the banks of the River, awaiting passage to beyond the grasp of apocalypse. It was, for the moment, not to be. All the while, the seed of doomsday began to grow among the people of Loom. OOC: Kariarchus, the missing mortal cursed last Age by Mezidec, is back—as a doomsday prophet.
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Dec 12, 2021 22:01
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Solene - The Fortress Dusk and Dawn It was time to choose. Solene looks down on the expedition's path and over to the raging storm. She remembers her unfruitful attempts to meddle in mortal affairs last age and figures that maybe Mona is right and they have much to gain in getting to know the inhabitants of the surface a little better. Solene makes her decision and solar energy arcs forth. OOC: Trying to help the expedition make it to the Fortress by illuminating safe shelters out of the storm's path. Using Light and Unity as domains, Curiosity as hunger. Let's drop what I have left on this, 2 and 1 points.
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Dec 12, 2021 23:29
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