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 Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes Forex glanced warily. He wasn't looking forward to meeting with Kemgoz again - nor with the Dark being conscious and focused once more. Then again, if the goddess was to act on her grudge, she'd surely pick a better time and place. Yes, the worst that could happen now was a message being sent. And so he smiled and nodded politely. "But of course. It is a public holiday, after all." The god slid a tankard across the stone balustrade. It was half-empty, yet still pleasingly cold. "Seasonal specialty. As proud as I might be of the great fires in the sky, I am forced to admit the revelry isn't complete without a bit of respite from the humidity."
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Jul 12, 2019 19:57
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 Nefretask, Loving, Hating, Yearning, 'Reconciled' The deity-in-flesh takes the tankard, hand wrapping awkwardly around it at first, then the other hand. The mask looks into the drink, “It is actually in the spirit of that humidity that I come. Literally, of course.” The mask tilts toward Forex in what might be a glance, “I am beset by petitioners, disgruntled gusts among them - all this…” There is a bubbling distaste in that voice, “...upheaval, thank the Maker, has upended old ways of being.” The deity raises the drink and attempts a drink - much of it spills down the mask - Nefretask seems unconcerned by this - the street performer she inhabits already stained with drink anyway. “And a thought occurs to this one, that you have made attempts at rallying smaller gods to a banner. This…” Nefretask pauses, recalculating, considering, The performer’s head bobs once, twice. “This idea appeals to parts of us - we would see it expounded upon.”
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Jul 13, 2019 00:46
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 JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR Not long after she found out about the beautiful and impossible news did the triumvirate find themselves disrupted by updates of a much uglier sort. Ua, thIheeTriSr herald, was being subverted. The attack (there was no other word for it) was perpetrated by Nefretask, the split goddess who was split no longer, the third piece of the Dark, and thIheeTriSr... future sister-in-law? The idea of that set Irri afluster, and it took several impatient growls from Jormgir before tsIhheTey could focus again. Something had to be done. Not for the first time, Irri's heart and Oz's mind began to work together to come up with a plan. In the rarest of rarities, however, it was not just the two who worked while Jormguar provided drive and impatience. IT, too, would assist. In the long ages of being the lonesome, hated Devourer, Ua had been ITS only companion. ITS pet. ITS friend. How long had tsIhheTey abandoned it for? Centuries? Millenia? That was his repayment for Ages of utter faithfulness. Of course Nefretask was able to subvert him. For the first time in ITS eternal life, Jormguar, without the influence of Irri, felt guilty. ------------------------- It was quickly clear to Irri that if the triumvirate were to move forward with this plan that tsIhheTey had cooked up, their creation could not be under the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR's direct control. If it was, tsIhheTey could undo all thIheeTriSr hard work with just a moment's lapse. No, this being would need to be independent, with a desire to love and be loved by the Storm, but otherwise entirely independent. Both of them would have to be independent. Ua had served his duty nobly for eternities, it was time for him to chase his own happiness. It was time for him to be free. "Dance, seas, dance! Live, waters, live! CRUSH, DEPTHS, CRUSH" JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, infinite, swam in great, rapid circles, wheels within wheels within spirals within loops. tsIhheTey circled, danced, chased thIheeTriSr tail until tsIhheTey saw it. "We create you! We give you life! WE COMMAND YOU. BBBEEECCCOOOMMMEEE!!!" The twisting waters became a shape, and the shape became itself. Herself. She did not know who or what she was, but she knew that she existed. She turned, to her still-dancing creators, and asked the question that all living things seek. "Why do I exist?" "In this world, there is a Storm, much like you," Irri was first to speak, smiling softly and fondly. "He twists the clouds, just as you twist the seas. He is noble and faithful, and so terribly, dreadfully lonely. He needs you. You are his match. His counterpart. You were created to love him. And to be loved by him. Be patient, and persevere. He may not trust you at first, but once he does, you could never wish for a more faithful companion. Seek him out, find him, and you will feel the completeness you lack." The being of the waters understood, looking expectantly at the Serpent, and tsIhheTey sighed, with ten thousand mouths, closing ten thousand eyes in sadness and thought. "Go, Oei, the Living Whirlpool. Go to him, tell him that he is free, that you are here to be with him forever, made for him by JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR. Thank him for his Ages of unwavering love and support. And tell him..." "TELL HIM IT IS SORRY." ------------------------- OOC: With knowledge of her partner's impending motherhood, I'll use my pending advances on the Creation skill, with the Sentients specialty. Then I will use Create, Sentients, and The Seas to bring to life Oei, the Living Whirlpool. girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 02:57 on Jul 14, 2019 |
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Jul 13, 2019 18:01
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 Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper What was the nature of Flaw? What of Perfection? Questions to ponder upon as Emoch orchestrated forgesong deep in his Vaults. Integral questions, for even Emoch could not make that which was without flaw if he did not know where to look for it, nor that which was perfect if he knew not what to aim at. The current model was a sphere, accosted by a trinity of apertures in a line from the center: triangle, pentagon, septagon, interspersed by lensing arrays to pinpoint emberlight to a specific place, at a specific distance. In specific shapes and colors. In a ways like telescopes, but more akin to eyes in reverse, they lolled about in lazy indolence as Emoch inspected them in hand. They hadn't yet shattered, they certainly were resilient enough. And the fact that he had several instead of just the one he had made certainly spoke of their fecundity. But as they were, their utility was limited. Indeed, they were of less use than the indiscriminately shining gemstones that were his first attempt, for their gaze was only ever felt in a single spatial point out of infinite. One might thus think them flawed. But they were not yet complete. A crucial anchor of their structure was still missing. In silence, Emoch grabbed a soulforged construct in the likeness of an emerald, one end tapering to a cruel, sharpened point, the other a faceted surface engraved with jagged runes. For a while, he looked at it. But only for a little while. Surprisingly little in fact, for a Divinity as prone to wallowing in the past as Emoch, taken that on this road there would be no turning back. But he remained grim, and resolute. Perfection was a process, and held no sympathy for those afraid to walk forward. With one hand, Emoch cast away a few pieces of newly cracked breastplate. With the other, he stabbed the emerald deep, straight through his sternum. The eyes all turned to face him in perfect unison. _____ OOC: Underworld, CREATE and Divine Smith go into finishing the Soul 2.0 Project. 1d3 Substance stress as cost, 1d3+1 Coherence stress as part of the action. Action: 9 Substance: 1 Coherence: 3 Removing 1d3=3 Will Stress due to having utilized my Favored way to solve problems Theantero fucked around with this message at 14:24 on Jul 19, 2019 |
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Jul 15, 2019 18:29
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 Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "You know, this cabinet is very vulnerable. Something terrible could happen to it, especially if a little deity got to it." Larcena says. She is a woman dressed like a thief, a con-woman, a rogue, the cowl of her cuckoo feather cloak pulled over her head. She sits atop the offending cabinet as if she were still a bird. There is a wine glass in one of her hands. "Terribly tempting to a little thing, excited to explore. Tell us again, what's in it?" She-Who-Rewards says. The coins that hang from her horns clink and clatter. "Nothing that important, feel free to open it." Kaladine says from her divan. She has exchanged her Witch-Empress garb for something less constraining, loose purple and silver robes with flickering tentacles and kelp. In the shadows and folded places, one can almost see the shape of monsters, ready to spring from it. Her hat snores softly from a nearby coat-rack. Both of the other goddess's shake their heads. "Defeats the point, we need to live in the temptation! How else can we understand a little godlet's mind?!" Larcena says, cocking her head like a bird. The ram-goddess sips her own drink and squints at the cabinet. "What if we labelled it a linen closet? There's nothing tempting about linens to a child." Larcena jumps down with thieves grace. "I don't know....might make them think it was a low-stakes snoop. Something to bust into after they've been caught and need to slowly get back into the grove." She-Who-Rewards raises an eyebrow, smiles at the cuckoo. "Why that is the most devious thing I've heard all year, Lady Larcena. Personal experience?" Larcena giggles. "Yes, yes. I think I made my dads nearly tear out their hair a few times." It goes on like this for a long time, the Cuckoo and the Ram proofing the house against a young godlet while they drank Kaladine's wine and ate finger sandwiches. Kaladine drops some occasional gossip about her Dearest Sister, just enough to get the rumor mill started with doubts about her mental health. By the time they both leave Kaladine can see the bonds forming between them. They'd be a good pair, and she hopes they'd keep each other from hearing Dearest Sister's voice. --- OOC: Kaladine is Chilling with Larcena and She-Who-Rewards to relieve stress on the relationship with Larcena. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 19:26 on Jul 15, 2019 |
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Jul 15, 2019 19:18
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes No fluff today, but exhaustive explanation instead. Forex is to go around and set up the Bazaar of Embers, a linkedin/ebay for minor gods, or as he puts it - an 'organization put in place to promote sharing and entrepreneurship in these trying times'. The core ideas behind it are: - It's set up to mostly run itself, through essentially establishing an administration of assorted librarian/accounting/law godlets, receiving a compensation that's interesting for a smallgod while not very notable for a biggod and a very real chance at gaining a lot of status among their low tier. Hopefully, Forex himself would only have to check on it every once in a while to make sure things are running smooth. - It would essentially be a marketplace of services, with the Bazaar helping find godlets with the right domain in the catalogue and meticulously tracking all the favors (essentially an internal currency) owed. - A big feature of the above would be the Bazaar's administration holding an arbitrage court for the contracts closed within the system, ensuring relative safety and compensation, should things go wrong. The sanctions are obviously confined to matters of Bazaar membership and running tallies, but it's not wise to become a thorn in a Big God's side, is it? - Suffice to say, petitioners with outside dispute could ask for arbitration, as a paid service from the Bazaar. - There is a possibility of appealing all the way up to Forex himself, codified in such a way it's more of a safety valve than something to be expected. This is as much about the air of legitimacy as sending a message to the arbiters that with great power comes great responsibility and it is most unwise to be endangering Forex's reputation. - The place runs on nominal commissions (existing mostly because free is suspicious). The real profit of this place is to be amassing meticulous archives, which might come in handy when a need arises to push a bunch of (cyrrent or former) smallgods around. Or simply figure out what they're up to. - Some nebulous, yet inconclusive suggestions are to be made that the Bazaar, as a whole, might one day gain status of a Leaguemember and enjoy assorted privileges of that. - The market is rigged to promote smallgods, with medium-tier gods increasingly pushed to deal with the League instead, assigned a lower priority for when their scale is simply necessary for a deal. It is so in order to cast a wide net instead of enabling big players to corner the market. Much like gathering the archives ("no deed shall be forgotten before the arbiters") it's not really a secret, but rather a feature ensuring realization of Bazaar's most wholesome and friendly mission. - Nef steering the pesky petitioners towards the fledgling Bazaar is a source of early adopters and considered by Forex a fully exchanged favor (getting rid of her problem vs helping establish something really monetized).
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Jul 24, 2019 14:44
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Ua was gathering his strength over the waves, ready to lash out yet again, when they started roiling and crashing in an interesting way. Was Jorm emerging to greet Ua? Would everything get back to what it was? To Ua's great surprise, nothing emerged from the waves but the waves themselves, another being of destructive power, alone and asking for companionship. Oei, was her name. And she brought the Serpent's apology with her, an offer to make Ua's life lonely no more. For seven times seven months Ua raged, in sorrow and sadness. For seven times seven months Oei was there, steering him away from mortals and keeping watch on him, matching lightning with wave and thunder with crash. It was a game, it was a mission, it was a meaning, and it worked. They still rage together, in a neverending back and forth. The Sea Winds have taken it upon themselves to guide them away from where they could do harm. And Ua is no longer looking to the depths with a hopeful eye. Emoch's new creation, his perfect creation, was staring at him. Only at him, no chance for it to Wander or spend its time doing Unnecessary Things or, Him forbid, Entertain Traitorous Thoughts. It was perfect. And yet, Emoch's hands now felt light, his mind unacceptably idle. There still was Imperfection in the world. And that was Unacceptable. Ixhisitl was profoundly shaken by her chat with Kaladine, the vulnerability shown by the older Goddess moving something deep inside her. And so, while Kaladine was having a nice time with her protegès, Ixhisitl attacked Nefretask's faithful, providing just retribution for their patroness's unacceptable act. Or at least, that's what she told herself. No one gets left behind, right? Nefretask for her part could do little about her followers' newly conflicted feelings, busy as she was arbitrating the disputes of lesser deities and coordinating with Forex to set up the Bazaar of Embers, a system to give the smaller divinities a way to handle themselves without the everpresent fear of oblivion to cloud their judgement. Right now, not many seem to have taken to the idea, but nobody hates it either. Emoch Reminders: New Souls: +2 Believers resistance, can be spent to get a bonus dice or grant to someone else temporarily. They'll be available again two turns after they're used. Fallout:Taste of perfection You did it. You fixed a Mistake. But now, all of the Other Ones jump at your eyes, begging to be Made Right.For the next 2 actions, take 1 difficulty to any action not involving Making something The Way It Has To Be. If you take no actions for a turn, roll 1d3 Will stress, this includes Refreshing. The Ember Bazaar is a Thing! A fledgling thing, but still. Might need some care before it gets its legs under it.
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Jul 24, 2019 17:46
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR It has been some time since the triumvirate have felt so conflicted. For the first time in ITS immortal life, JORMGUAR is experiencing an empty ache that it cannot sate with food. Loss. Regret. Nothing has ever made IT feel this way before, and it is angry. Oz, who has never met Ua in any meaningful capacity, is plotting, putting together pieces and plans like tsIhheTey never could before they became a part of thIheeTriSr. Vengeance must be had, vengeance will be had. This act of war cannot go unpunished. All they must do is find the time and the place, find the right piece of meat to tantalize JORMGUAR, and IT will obey them again. None of this matters to Irri, not directly. As the mediator of the Triumvirate, the place in the middle where tsIhheTey meets, she is of course aware of them. The push and pull, the yank and tug, the inner turmoil that first characterized thIheeTriSr tripartite existence. It can wait, all of it can wait. Something more important occupies her thoughts. ----------------- Rarely has JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR visited the Celestial, and never before has tsIhheTey done so in this new humanoid form. It's quite the spectacle. Seawater and bloody froth drips in a trail behind thIheeTriSr as tsIhheTey crosses the threshold, striding purposefully towards the only thing that matters to her. "Kaladine!" TSIhheTey are all present, but it is only her that speaks. Oz, occupied with thoughts of revenge, is uncharacteristically still, and JORMGUAR growls and gnashes in thIheeTriSr stomach, but even IT is otherwise still. Only Irri is truly here, seeking her beloved and their child-to-be. "Kally!"
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Jul 24, 2019 18:56
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked The Chime-Wind howls. Kaladine grins. And in the gardens outside, born of stars and darkness, she embraces her beloved. "Hello, Raindrop." She whispers. A kiss. It is a fierce, cruel thing. "It's good to see you here again, all three of you." She takes Jorm's hand and places it against her belly. Even Kaladine's loose robes cannot hide the bump now. "She's doing fine, always bouncy and full of life. The only way to get her to slow down is singing to her."
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Jul 24, 2019 19:33
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR How could any kiss between them not be cruel? It is a wonder JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR is not the goddess of teeth. THIheeTriSr hand is cold and clammy, as it always is, and yet the warmth still spreads into thIheeTriSr through thIheeTriSr skin. TSIhheTey greatly desires more, more of that touch, but tsIhheTey dares not approach too closely. "...please, do not embrace me. Not right now. Jormguar has been... disquieted recently. I am sure you've heard why?"
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Jul 24, 2019 19:41
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "I know, I know." She takes the hand and guides Jormgozir back to a small table before a divan deeper in the garden. It is laid out with human figurines, books matched to them. Kaladine lays down upon it and stretches out. Her octopode eyes scan the figures, and then move back to Jormgozir. "Emoch asked me to take a moment to untangle his cults, but I was just about to take a break anyway." She slides over, making space for the serpent. "How are you holding up, all of you? I know what Ua meant to Jormugar."
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Jul 24, 2019 20:01
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR "It hurts," Irri answers plainly, as tsIhheTey takes the offered spot to rest. (On thIheeTriSr back, of course, so Jormguar doesn't go chewing a hole in the divan.) "I know loss well, I know pain. But for Jormguar... Long before you, or me, Ua was all it had. Ages and ages, with Ua as the only being, the only thing, in all of Wax that it didn't despise." Irri doubts that even JORMGUAR ITSELF is aware of the depth of these emotions, but she is not so lucky as to be ignorantly navigating them from the outside. All that is ITS is hers, as well, and she is the much more eloquent of the two. "I can understand that Ua has found a new purpose. Oz is preoccupied with plotting revenge, and never knew him well. Jormy, though..." A sigh escapes Irri, and she closes her eyes. "It hurts. It hurts in a way it's never even known it could."
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Jul 24, 2019 20:38
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "I'm sorry. Jormugar, my love. This isn't a feeling you get rid of with broken bones and feasting." She says. Kaladine smiles sadly at the serpent. This is a pain she knows too well. "Losing someone you care about is the kind of pain that only heals with time, distance, and new connections." She looks up at the dim stars. "Like you and I, or..." Her fingers brush her belly. She can feel the godlet jump at her touch. "...our child. She's as much yours as Irri's or Oz's." Back to the goddess beside her. Kaladine's copper hair pours across the cushions like fresh blood. "Tell me, Jormugar - have you ever tried creating something yourself?"
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Jul 24, 2019 21:37
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR "UA." The answer is sudden and immediate, which surprises even Irri. While she had been listening to Kaladine speak, and though she had known she was speaking to Jormguar, she did not expect IT to respond. "IT MADE UA. IT MADE OEI." There is a long moment of awkward silence. JORMGUAR has, at least, stopped chewing on ITS own tongue, though. "WITCH. WHY DOES MAKING ALWAYS HURT." girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 21:51 on Jul 24, 2019 |
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Jul 24, 2019 21:48
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "I have a name, sweetie." Kaladine says teasingly. Her eyes goes from Irri's face to the maw in her belly. "Sometimes it does. The things you make hurt you, sometimes without meaning or understanding it. Sometimes things hurt them, like cruel little jesters. Kaladine leans in. Anyone else this close to the World-Eater's maw was no doubt close to death. Not her. She watches the tongue flick against the divan, dripping strange acidic saliva that would burn any mortal material. "But when we make, we make our lives less lonely. How do you think you would have felt all that time without Ua's companionship, even knowing you'd be hurt now?"
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Jul 24, 2019 21:59
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR "..." JORMGUAR has no answer for that. Irri has no answer for that. As lonely as IT had been, to be without ITS herald... "THERE IS A NEW PIT. EATING DOES NOT FILL IT." "Vengeance will fill it. Won't it, Kaladine?" Oz cuts in with uncharacteristic force. Shark teeth spread into a wide grin, the sharp whisper of their voice contrasting that of thIheeTriSr stomach. "And if Nefretask would go this far to subvert a mere herald, who is to say what lows she would not stoop to in pursuit of her niece or nephew?"
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Jul 24, 2019 22:22
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "You know vengeance must be undertaken with a cold heart lest it burn out of control, Oz my sweet." Kal says, looking up to the neck-mouth. "And I have handled it. Even now my Dearest Sister's cult teeters on the brink of collapse. It is commensurate punishment." She stretches out. Tentacles bubble from of the edge of her robes. They grasp at the figures on the board, rearranging them. "The best thing for our little light is to teach her well, and show her love and care. Dearest Sister's tricks will find little purchase if we do." Kaladine looks back down at the belly mouth. "And as for you, my love, what do you want?"
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Jul 24, 2019 22:53
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR Oz tsks in response in a way that neither of their fellows ever have. It is the universal sign of 'you're right, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it.' An argument is not the way to achieve their goals. "I also know it must be total. But, if you truly insist this be eye-for-an-eye, we do have many more than she does. And the next time she takes one of ours, we will blind her." Very pleased with their own little joke slash threat, Oz lets the others have the reins of the conversation. "THIS CHILD YOU ARE MAKING, IT WILL MAKE THE HURT LESSEN?"
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Jul 24, 2019 23:01
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked “I expect nothing less, and that is why I love you Oz.” Back to the maw. “And yes, I think you’ll like her. She’s got your energy, little thing barely stops moving.”
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Jul 24, 2019 23:10
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR "Yes, yes, we love you, too." "THEN IT WILL PROTECT HER." JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR sits up, propped up on thIheeTriSr hands. Determination blazes in every eye as tsIhheTey rises with a new sense of purpose. "IT WILL NOT LOSE HER. IT WILL NOT LOSE YOU."
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Jul 24, 2019 23:15
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "You won't, I promise. I love you, all of you." Kal says with a smile, then gives each of Jorm's mouths a kiss. "I have to get back to work, you know how Emoch is." It's motives are corrupt, self-serving. Excellent. She rises to look at the board again, mask popping and squelching as the tentacles move. They grab the pieces and rearrange them yet again, into patterns that only make sense to the mind of the Witch-Empress. "But feel free to stay and watch, if you like. It's good mental exercise."
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Jul 25, 2019 00:04
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR "LATER." The triumvirate rise. Once again, the three are operating in sync, and an idea is forming. "We've got something to do as well, while Jormy's actually focusing." And tsIhheTey will, indeed, return later, once thIheeTriSr task is finished. Although that may take a while...
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Jul 25, 2019 00:23
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A ruddy, well-fed Natori man stalks the planks, pacing back and forth across the stage in the Civic Pavilion. The humid day and his fiery rhetoric have blushed his navy complexion more toward plum. Sweat has soaked through his coat. “Sure, you’ve got love. We’ve all got love. Inside us, around us. And you hold on to that. It’s priceless.” He jabs a finger at a woman cradling her infant in the front row, “Love’s ours. It comes from us. From inside!” That same pointing finger waves at the sky for a moment, the sweeps out across the crowd, “That’s our power. We make it.” The square is hot, humid. Aghahh avails himself upon the rally to no relief. The town guardsmen at the city hall doors watch the assembly in boredom, the one’s on the bridge over the river lean lazily at their posts. The crowd hangs on the pastor’s words, murmured agreement and affirmation here or there. They sway with his hand’s motions. “I came up through Aleport, I heard one of my brothers speak. I heard him telling it. Good man, but he said something - something you might’ve heard too, something that didn’t sit right with me. ‘Love is the only weapon with which I got to fight.’” The natori fellow stops pacing, looks at the crowd, shaking his head. His voice gets a little low. The crowd goes quiet and everyone leans in to listen. “No, folks. No. That’s just wrong right there.” “His Grace, Firenze the First, he died, talking about Love. Rowena Walks-With-Grace, she died preaching some kind of love. Forces took them from us,” He raises an eyebrow, pointing a finger up toward the sky. The crowd knows who he means. “They don’t care one lick, folks, they don’t know your love - can't understand it. Because it’s ours. Our power.” The anger builds. The more devout have taken belts, or purposeful strips of leather, lightly swatting over their shoulders. The crowd cheers as he rolls right along. The guards watching have sat up, hands gripped around their weapons. Singing erupts, but never enough to drown out the pastor. “These are our weapons. The sea can feed you today, drown you tomorrow. The earth’ll lie there til it swallows up all you know. Even the sun don’t rise like it should. All that’s certain is your love. My love. Your hate. My hate,” he grins, wild-eyed, plum-faced, sweating buckets, chuckling, “I know I got my hate, folks. Lady knows I do.” “‘Love is the only weapon with which I got to fight.’ Wrong, folks. I’ve got weapons. You’ve got them too. We’ve got a hell of a lotta weapons with which to fight. We got that love, folks. We got our hearts” And it builds. “We got our anger too.” The crowd has gone from affirmations to raucous cries, whooping, the townsfolk cheering him on. The man nearly runs from one side of the stage to another, fire spilling forth from the tip of his tongue. “We got our hate.” “We got our love, we got our hate. We got spears. We got arrows.” He calls out to the crowd, and they call out back, “We got claws and teeth. We got the Taker’s powder. I’ll fight!” The assembly roars. Even the watchmen are shouting now. Hugging, shoving, embracing, moshing. There’s a loud crack of a studded leather strap punctuating each of the pastor’s cries now. “I’ll fight!” “I’ll fight!” He is no longer looking at the crowd, he’s calling out at the sky, the ashen clouds above “I’ll fight!” There’s blood and sweat in the crowd now, “I’ll fight!” “I will fight!” The townsfolk howl. A strange song of rage, fury, desperation and ecstatic joy. The heat rises in the air, boiling and feverish. The wet, meaty pap of beaten flesh bounces off the walls of the square, barely audible over the pastor’s booming voice. “Let them hear it in the night! Yes, we will fight!” He casts his eyes back earthward, arms swung out wide, scanning the writhing crowd. “We’ll fight! They’re listening! Roar! Let them know, we’ll fight! This is our love. This is our power! They don’t know love. So you tell ‘em! MAKE THEM HEAR YOU! Tell ‘em you’ll fight, because they can hear us!” It couldn’t be louder. More than a few of the faithful have collapsed, stamped on by their fellows. The new arrivals, the skeptical, they’ve taken up the studded straps and a zeal overwhelming. The guardsmen have pushed closer to the stage. “Let them know you mean it! We’ll kill ‘em if they come here.” The roaring madness begins to abate - not for enthusiasm, but only through dwindling numbers. Fewer and fewer of the faithful still stand. Some have passed out, some are bloodied. Some still sit on their knees, leaning on each other for support, cradling their brothers and sisters, hoarsely calling out their fury. The pastor’s fury chills and quiets, “And they will come. They can’t help themselves, those in the Heavens. Because they don’t have our love, and our hate, and they’re jealous.” He stops speaking, breathing heavily, swaying uneasily. The square is bereft of words. Confused groans of ecstasy, pain. Muttered, nonsense fever prayers. Meaty thwacks scourging the backs of those who can still muster the effort. The wailing cry of an infant. “Go with grace, folks.” Nefretask is resting.
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Jul 25, 2019 07:37
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper Another failure was flung furiously into the smelter as Emoch was once again interrupted by a gathering of souls gathered and taken by He-Who-Cleaves. Taken in some inn somewhere, near a junction of the lightways between larger settlements, revealed a cursory examination of their contents. A secret meeting of nefites in the cellar, all of them now dead. Alongside the innkeeper, the innkeeper's family, and every single patron and guest of the establishment. Reasonable work. Nefites were dead, as the agreement with Kaladine bound him to make sure of, and not like Emoch held any love for the collateral. Or at least, this is what Emoch would have thought, not long ago. Now he just thought it was all so... ugly. His work should be able to do better. His work should be capable of BOTH mass murder and precision killing. Was a reforging in order, then? To perfect this one too? Perhaps it would be. And Emoch made sure that He-Who-Cleaves would know of his opinion. He-Who-Cleaves, who was rewarded by naught but ever harsher chastisement for his work. _____ OOC: Using my bond with He-Who-Cleaves to murderize Nefites, 2d10 with 1d3 bond Stress due to my fallout Action: 8 Bond: 3 Theantero fucked around with this message at 13:09 on Jul 30, 2019 |
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Jul 30, 2019 13:06
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked A few moments later, the book squelches. "Bosserino, the Witch-Bitch's report is in!" Zinny shouts from Emoch's neck. Eyes appear on the tentacle and stare at his armor. "HEY, WHAT'S WITH ALL THE COOL MINT FLAVOR?! YOU REBRANDING? YOU COULD USE A REBRANDING. WHATEVER, WE CAN TALK LATER. YOU SHOULD GO CHECK IN." --- Page after page is filled with exhaustive diagrams. Networks of allegiance and contracts in Emoch's cult. Next to each are dry instructions on fine-tuning them, a little affair coming out here, a social faux pas there. Each piece fine-tuned to better suit Emoch's will. On the last page something new forms. Filigree of tentacles and sweeping cursive. To Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith in the Deep, Worldshaper, Worldshaker, Vaultkeeper, and Exalted Ally You are formally invited to the baby shower for the child of Jormgozir and Kaladine-Aeo'na, where you will be seated in honor to the left of the expecting mothers themselves in honor of your continued support for the family.
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Jul 30, 2019 19:46
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper Emoch replied to the familiar with nothing but the sort of deeply inconvenienced grunt one gave when distracted from something very important, yet he made his way to the Tome regardless. In reading it, his mood first improved, then plummeted again. The first report he signed with naught but a terse ADEQUATE, followed by the impressive kill-list of He-Who-Cleaves, and a statement that he had kept his Pact. The invitation he responded to also. Because he had to. To Kaladine-Aeo'na The Mistress of Misery, The Sommelier Of Sorrow, The Witch-Empress Of The Wicked, and Esteemed Ally Know that your invitation is received. Know that it is duly accepted. What bothersome irrelevancy. Then again, it could not be worse than those infuriating moots. No moot had required him to construct a gift, however. As Emoch walked away, back towards the Forgeheart to continue his feverish work, he reflected for a moment on the fact that he had never, in any Age, created a Toy for a Child. But only for a moment. He was far too busy to be distracted.
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Jul 30, 2019 20:03
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