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 Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked Kaladine smirks. "It is good to know that we may begin things on a proper footing, Worldshaper." She shakes her head. "No, I do not. You may keep those drenched in darkness as your own, for they do not serve my purpose. I seek a different quarry. One I believe would be an inferior material for your forge - those swaddled in complex pain. They are the ones that would I consume for sustenance." She snaps her fingers, and tentacles rise up to offer her a foot stool. Kaladine steps down upon the cave floor. "I would seek to create a mental illness that would drag the ones I seek to my arms, souls filled with the pain I need but..." She clicks her tongue. "...among the memories this body lost in its transformation into me are the depths of it's knowledge of the soul. I can work the darkness inside it, but I cannot work the soul itself. I remember pieces, but not the whole." She paces back and forth, watching Emoch's motions with her strangely bending eyes, and takes furtive sips of her drink. "So, I must relearn the arts this mind has forgotten, those you seek to learn yourself. I would pool our knowledge on these matters, and in trade...my creation would drag the souls of purest darkness you seek to your forge. Is this agreeable to you, Worldshaper?" The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 19:26 on Apr 27, 2019 |
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Apr 27, 2019 19:24
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 Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper Emoch's pose did not relax for a fair moment, his gaze wary. "It has been many Ages", he finally spoke, "Since anybody or anything proposed to shape with me. It is an offer so spurious and insolent that it would earn a smiting, in most cases." "YET." "I cannot disagree that yours is a grand project worth consideration. I cannot disagree that this plan of yours would rid me of worthless chaff, and grant me the treasure I crave. And neither can I contradict the fact that we share means, but our ends differ significantly enough to avoid direct competition and conflict." "It is decided, then." "WE SHALL WORK TOGETHER." Emoch's final words cracked with the finality of tectonic plates, and hung in the air for a significant amount of time before silence returned. "But before we conclude, I have a question of my own." "You know what Souls I seek, and I know the same about you. But do you seek the Glaive also?"
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Apr 27, 2019 19:42
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked Kaladine grins, tentacles appear from her robe sleeves bearing a heavy book whose pages drip with purple-black ink. They drop it on a table near the Worldshaper. "Then we are agreed, you will find what I know in the pages of that book. I have plans to add knowledge to it, it will update itself when it is closed. You may write what you wish yourself in the empty pages, and I will know what they contain." When the Glaive is mentioned, Kaladine cocks her head. The tentacle on the end of her hat twitches idly. "No, as much as I might like to know such an artifact is accounted for I have other priorities. If you should find it, it is yours by right."
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Apr 27, 2019 19:56
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper Emoch nodded, ever so slightly. "Then we have reached understanding, and this meeting has outgrown its purpose, and thus its welcome." "We shall meet again, Lady Kaladine." Emoch grabbed the book from the table, turned around and walked back inside the Vaults, the Golden Gates closing shut behind him with the sound of utter finality.
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Apr 27, 2019 20:03
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 Nefretask, Paradoxal Deity of Love and Hate Nefretask sits alone on a broken pillar on her destroyed temple. Most of the remaining scars of her previous tantrums and the lingering influence of the Dark still remain, but the twofold Goddess cares not. She watches the chaos caused by Maladine's downfall, the storm destroyer's newfound descent into carnage and her own actions, and lets out a melancholic sigh. It seems that these foolish ants, the poor mortals, they cannot help but worship the responsible for their own misery. She cannot help but love their persistance... And feel great hate for their weakness. Perhaps they would be better off without Gods at all, but they may need to build up their own strength for that first... And to do so, they must replenish their numbers. Kemgöz's monsters have taken a tool of them, and now the monster from the deep seems to have taken the mantle of the deathbringer. Could a race of billions be that vulnerable, however? Her uncorrupted side blows a small breeze towards the planet, pheromones with a smell than any flower and more alluring than any perfume. Such a breeze will encompass the Earth and make people's desires regarding... 'Creating offspring' much stronger. Nefretask will Inspire Love to create a worldwide "breeding season" for humanoids! This increase on reproduction will likely to help them weather the coming storms in the future.
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Apr 27, 2019 20:15
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked All in motion. All under control. Kaladine's hat-tentacle bounces gleefully as Emoch stomps back into his Vault. There was still the matter of the bird, a new stain cast in her old She reaches deep into the Dark, towards the strings in the Darkness of all mortals minds. The others didn't understand how deep the Dark had woven into itself into the world. It was an invisible empire, beneath all the gods petty works. This was real power, so much more than she ever had before. She plucks one, a corvain in a small village will murder their clan for no discernible reason. When the others finally slay them, purple-black ooze will drip from their broken beak. Kaladine will follow the rage inside them to learn where the rage lies in all souls. Another. A Tshiki in a Baatheloran metropolis will scrawl runes on the side of a slouching old manor. All who seem them will laugh and cry, humans will tear out their hair, Tshiki will carve them into their chitin so they might show them to others, the laughter travels across the entire noble district - and passes just as quickly. Kaladine studies each echo with a smile on her face. And on a Wayfarer ship, the cook will pour rat poison over the salted meat, and then serve it to xir crewmates with a smile. Eight days later the ship will run aground, filled with corpses. The starvation was a fascinating lesson. All of it is scrawled across the pages in the book she shares with Emoch. All of it is neatly filed away. Everything is in motion. Everything is under control. --- OOC: As we discussed Kaladine is using Gift, Disease, and Mental Illness to map out the Soul and share her information with Emoch. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 21:28 on Apr 27, 2019 |
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Apr 27, 2019 21:02
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 Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer Sharp eyes blinked as they scanned the world before them. Soaring through the Celestial, a bird of iridescent reds and yellows takes in her new home. Despite having just arrived, Ixhisitl could sense the rot taking root in this world...her world?...no, there were others like her here....older and more well established than her. Pinions twitched as she swooped down through the Celestial, adjusting course to bring her closer to those whose faith had created her. She had to make sure her place in this new world was secure, and for that she needed champions to spread her cult far and wide. What better way to banish the dark than to spread her light into every nook and cranny. Around the world, everywhere that the cult of Ixhisitl had begun to arise, small birds in the image of their patron would arrive. Speaking in the tongues of mortals, these avatars would spread the word and issue a challenge: those worthy of Ixhisitl's grace step forward and be purified in her light, to purge themselves of corruption so that they may in turn spread her light in the this time of impending darkness. [i]Ixhisitl uses Inspire, Purification, and Ordeals to forge mortal exemplars to spread her cult
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Apr 28, 2019 05:01
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper A clanging filled the underground once more, as soulmetal plates were forged and fastened in place. A system of funnels, spanning key points and leyline crossings across all Wax. A project of immense scale, enough to boggle the mind of mortals or even lesser spirits and divinities. It had to, for it was a grand project even to the Worldshaper himself, he who had fashioned this eternally ungrateful ball of dirt in the first place. He without whom none of its current inhabitants would even exist. He to whom they owed everything. He whom they had betrayed on so many occasion, he whom they so often denied the RIGHTFUL possession of his own Creations. Well. He would no longer have it. Emoch tapped deep into the near-inexhaustible wells of resentment in his core as he hammered on. From this day forward, he would be PAID what he was OWED. Ethereal screams echoed with no savior to hear them as Emoch forced them to shape. The Soulhammer sizzled in his hand as he worked alone in the depths, naught but his own anger and ambitions spurring him forward. Soon he would have what he should always have had. Soon he would have more than enough material to perform his research on. More than enough to continue the work he and his new ally had set upon. Soon. Soon he would be vindicated, after all these ages. Yes, soon... Emoch hammered on. _____ OOC: Using CREATE, Artifice and Divine Smith to create the Big ol' Soulfunnels under Wax to claim as big a portion of all souls of the dead as physically possible
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May 2, 2019 21:05
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 Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes Things have gotten bad, Forex thought. Half the pantheon began running around, screaming and hurting themselvs like a pack of angry toddlers and an actual toddler stepped all over his carefully cultivated branding. What insanity. What mess. And yet, among the lesser divinities - lesser in mind as well as their power, it seems - he was the bad one for calmly going about his business. And worst of all, everyone's gotten awfully romantic all of a sudden and it isn't even the flower season yet. But sometimes... messes are good for business. Perhaps it would be prudent to let the skies go to hell, to let it devolve into a tiny bit of insanity, to let the first shock blow over and have it be all the more obvious that there still remains a trail, where things remain as they were. That some promises still hold and some offerings still deliver the same exchange one expects. And with that in place, we're going to have some serious talks. --- Keeping the business as usual, all nice and successful, to hopefully fix the strained reputation a bit. That could involve either Inspire Commerce or letting the League do its thing, whichever would be more useful for testing purposes.
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May 7, 2019 20:06
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked and Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer Ixhisitl is so proud of them, her first priests and priestesses. They’ve been purified, perfected. Each is a reflection of her will, as resplendent as the sun itself. She moves between them, arrayed in line in her first temple upon the slopes of Treasure Mountain - nestled in montane wilderness that smells of blood and sweat and stone. A place perfect for sharpening the soul. The torch light flickers for a moment, and she smells something strange. Rot, decay. Her. Ixhistl moves from priest to priest, staring into their souls, listening to the sounds they make. She settles on the shoulder of a young woman - with blonde, hay-hair and cool honey-amber eyes. She listens, so close. Her heartbeat, her blood, her soul. A hitch. She begins to cough. The bird leaps from her shoulder. She coughs again, grasping at her throat. The stench thickens, and all the clergy near her take a step back. Something black and ichorous drips from her mouth. Another cough, it carries finality. Her lips try to form into apologies, they fail. She buckles, to her knees. More blackness pours from her mouth. The priests flee from the temple, screaming and crying. There is the sound of something cracking, moving in flesh, a sound deep in her body. Crunching. A tentacle bursts from her chest, flailing and grasping. It wraps around her neck and squeezes, others flow through, and begin to tear the wound open ever more. Darkness spills unto the temple floor, hissing and biting and full of eyes and teeth. A manicured hand with purple nails rises from the pool, the other. Kaladine comes from the muck with grace befitting an empress. “Greetings, Redeemer.” She says, voice crisp and sharp and deep. “It is not The woman’s body falls to the ground with a sickening thud, spent. It shrivels like a shed skin. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 06:08 on Jun 1, 2019 |
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May 7, 2019 23:49
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Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer The Sun goddess puffed up as the darkness spilled on the floor of /her/ temple, the gesture carrying with it a similar energy as that of a cat owner being presented a half mangled rodent on their freshly cleaned carpet. Ixhisitl locked her dark eyes on the "That was unnecessary.... and wasteful." Eyes glanced over to the husk of the former priestess "What is it you want, foul one?" The incandescence of the goddesses feathers seemed to pulse, as if seething, despite her otherwise calm appearance.
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May 8, 2019 03:08
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "It was the only way in, as you had barred the door against such a glorious presence as my own." Kaladine bows low, the silver in the sleeves of her robe shines in the torchlight. It reveals patterns of slowly writhing tentacles. For a mortal mind to look upon them would invite madness, and far worse things. "And I offer my apologies, most sincerely. I had merely come to see if the stories of your radiance were true." She smirks. "It is good to see that they are." Kaladine does not hide her eyes moving over the bird's form, bending into U-shapes to take in all the colors she wears. "And also to remind you if you should find the burden of godhood onerous, I am ever at your service."
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May 8, 2019 03:20
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes Forex took another glance on the ruin that one was the green coast. He sighed at all the unnecessary waste - but then again, it wasn't his business and the god was not the one to interrupt a competitor when they're making a mistake. Still, mismanagement of this scale simply hurt the eyes. Perhaps that was the very reason this course of action was of such an utmost importance... Forex reached into his purse and threw a handful of silvery coins onto the ever-shifting surface of the sea. The little metal discs shined and glittered as the waves ebbed and flowed. Forex stepped softly and carefully over the floating coins, his passage blessed by an aeons-long pact. It took some time, but his trek over the raging sea attracted the one pair of eyes Forex hoped to attract - of the great blue's very owner. "Hail to you, great serpent", he said with a polite bow. "I know you to be mightily busy with whichever disaster you have flung yourself into so eagerly, so I shall make my case quickly and to the point. Before this... brand repositioning of yours, you had established the serpentine banner I remain quite fond of. I would very much appreciate them not following whichever calamity of a pursuit you are about to embark on." "Truth be told, I remain fond enough of them I could be persuaded to purchase them off you... should you name a reasonable price, of course."
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May 8, 2019 15:17
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In the Underground, the clang of hammer on metal takes a more and more mournful tune, as Emoch puts the finishing touches on his Soulfunnels, conveying the souls of those who are given to the earth to the Forge, to be reshaped into new, free from fault forms. Some of them bear the signs of Kaladine's research, but the number is still too low to matter on a Godly scale. As for the Sommelier of Sorrow, her experimentation bears plentiful fruit, giving her a great deal of information on the nature of the Soul, and most importantly, where to intervene to cultivate the best flavors. Jormgozir is a lot less discerning in thIheeTri Sr hunger, gobbling down cultists indiscriminately as the serpent asserts thIheeTri Sr newfound place on Wax. Many sailors abandon the worship, choosing to look for guidance skywards, where Ixhisitl's light burns brighter and brighter. Sometimes it engulfs a mortal, and if they reemerge they are... changed. Better. Purer. With so many Gods reaping the fruits of mortalkind, Nefretask's blessing proves itself to be an incredible boon, letting the population take the hit and bounce back, growing steadily- maybe too steadily, in fact. As for Forex, the Born of Bonfires has uncharacteristically been paying little attention to mortals, instead choosing to direct his League to mend relations and soothe ruffled feathers. It is a successful effort, with many lesser spirits paying at least lip service to the idea of adopting the Caduceus. And yet, as Forex is weighing coins, Hekis's steady voice interrupts him. "Boss, we need to talk."
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May 8, 2019 19:25
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Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer Ixhisitl snorted, or as close an approximation a bird can achieve anyway. "You honestly think that such a gaudy and wasteful parlor trick and sweet words would be enough for me to ignore that you destroyed one of /my/ priestesses? One who I had molded in /my radiance/ that you are oh so fascinated by?" Ixhisitl relaxed slightly, her puffed feathers flattening. Dark, beady eyes stared at Kaladine. "And you insult me with your offer of aid, naught but fruit from a poison tree. Know this Dark One, the day I accept your aid is the day this world is truly lost." Tail feathers twitched and avian head cocked to the side "Though if you are here to bask in my /radiance/, as you seem so interested in it, I am not one to refuse. Speak, what is it you want." The goddesses gaze never left her corrupted antecedent, but her body language seemed to soften and the incandescence of her form pulsed much more slowly and with less intensity, more akin to a pleasant sunset than the harsh noon sun of before.
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May 8, 2019 21:13
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "You act as if it is difficult to replace a single mortal." Kaladine summons her throne with a snap of the fingers, tentacles rise from the muck below to form it. She crosses her legs and leans against the side, smirk still dancing in the firelight. "I spoke the truth, your Radiance. I came to observe your handsomeness..." A platter of sliced purple and black meats appears on the arm of her throne, they whisper and shine. She plucks one with a silver needle and slides it in her mouth, then lets out a satisfied sigh. "Oh the romantic jealousy lately is to die for I tell you." Another, she pops in her mouth while never breaking eye contact with the quetzal. "Those tail feathers of yours, pure majesty. The stories do not do you justice." Before the compliment can sink in she sits up. "Oh, there was something else I wanted to tell you. Terribly sorry, handsome women do awful things to my memory." Kaladine stretches, her whole body squelches as the thousands of tentacles that hide behind the mask unkink. "My Dearest Brother will be along, he believes you have infringed upon his realms. Though he might wear a polite face I know him, he is aggrieved."
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May 8, 2019 22:30
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Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer The goddess puffed right back, the light emanating from her plumage surging in intensity. Kaladine would almost get the sense that was Ixhisitl's take on blushing as the sun goddess stammered "D-do not think you can fool me with simple flattery." Despite her words, Ixhisitl would bury her beak under her wing, as if hurriedly grooming away some perceived imperfection as an excuse to break eye contact. The goddess returned her gaze to the other goddess, chest puffed out. "But, I appreciate the compliments. Despite your...corruption... I can see why you have gathered such a...following...among the other Celestials. Not that you could surpass me, given some time to establish myself." The Quetzal Goddess preened herself again before turning to the matter at hand "As for your kin, is it not his fault that my mere existence threatens his domain? If he were as glorious as I, the mortals would have turned their worship to him would they not? It's not my fault that the mortals see true perfection and shun him in favor of me."
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May 9, 2019 01:57
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked Kaladine laughs. "He is as he made himself, and the only brother I have ever had. Fire is his greatest work." She cocks her head, a tentacle cradles her chin. Another raises another needleful of flesh to her mouth. She takes it without a thought. "No, that's not quite correct. His greatest work is how he makes people remember the flame. He calls it 'branding'. In the past light was subordinate to fire, and so he was the Lightbringer. Your very existence upends that work, and annoys his deeply codified worldview." Kaladine chuckles, as if she heard a joke. "In a sense he's more set in his ways than even the Worldshaper." Even as his title rolls from her mouth, she can hear his pen scratch across the pages of her book. More information she needed, the next pieces of her plan fall into place. "This, Your Radiance, was a most pleasant visit but I have work to do with the Master Smith." Her throne retreats back into the puddle, a stray tentacle drags the woman's corpse back in with it. "But one last piece of advice, my Brother always strives to create 'added value' for himself in every transaction. Ask yourself when he is creating value, and you will find you understand him far better." Kaladine bows again, her tentacle-hat is almost twisted into a grin. "Now then, Your Radiance, I must be off." The Dark rises to envelop her, and a moment later falls back to the floor. It drains through the temple floor cracks, leaving not even a stain.
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May 9, 2019 02:27
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Nefretask, Paradoxal Deity of Love and Hate Love seems to have bore its fruit. Very well then. Now to start shaping the future that Nefretask have given these pathetic little cretins. A new Priesthood, taken from the poor wretches that still served her during her time of madness. They really did their best to soothe the mad deity, didn't them? Although it seems that they didn't manage to do much, the useless saps. But of course, she still cherishes them much for trying, so much that she will be sure to change their dogma. No more sacrifice, either selfless or taken from others. Or well, at least to not make it mandatory. No, from now on, they will be encouraged to be true to themselves and to everyone else. No need for the complicated orders of dogma of the other Gods, be them old or new. Instead, the new faithful of Love and Hate will only be encouraged.. To spread their word, to convince others to abandon Gods who do them harm and to take to one that for better or for worse, cares for them. Perhaps this might get Nefretask's worthless egomaniacal siblings to behave after all. Tough love is a form of love after all, and a deity that only causes harm to the world, well that one is right to be hated by everyone, something that Nefretask has thought on retrospect as she reevaluated her previous actions. Still, she might give a hand to the newborn. That one doesn't seem to be a harmful force, and what's not to love in such an underdog. [Using INSPIRE and Love to remake Kemgoz' priesthood into new converts to Nef... And to start encouraging mortals who follow all gods other than her and Ix to reevaluate their decision.] Plutonis fucked around with this message at 03:50 on May 9, 2019 |
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May 9, 2019 02:45
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked The Witch-Empress listens, listens to the creaking, crying barrels of agony-wine in her new work-palace. Perhaps work-palace is the wrong term. It is a state of mind, it is a place that only exists in the hour of the wolf. A time when all decisions slouch towards their makers with drool on their lips and hatred in their hollow hearts. And as they dream it weaves itself, filled with confusion and dread and the complex aromas of ennui. What those followers did not understand is what traveled back across the weave, into cities and hamlets and ships on the high sea alike. It creeps in, during the hour of the wolf, an unbidden and unwanted guest. It is a state of mind, an idea. For her followers blessed enough, the hour of the wolf might never end again. The barrels creak, and Kaladine can feel the dark smiling inside herself. They would drink well. --- OOC: As discussed I am creating The Hour Of The Wolf - Hell as a transmissible mental illness using Gift, Disease, and Mental Illness that activates only in the proper hosts (profoundly evil and/or tastily textured souls) causing depression, anxiety, and urge to discuss them. When active cases die it delivers them to Kaladine and Emoch. This first batch is non-transmissible, but the large-scale deployment will use discussion of negative emotions as a transmission vector.
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May 18, 2019 07:09
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper The great tome that Emoch and Kaladine had created to work as their shared journal was resting alone on a pedestal, itself in the middle of a giant, circular and domed chamber of beautifully decorated walls, floor and ceiling. Nothing else was present, but a dozen mechanical servants ringing the wall at precise intervals, each unique, each a mask of cold indifference in their own way, keeping watch over the book for any potential trickery. Them, and the door, now to be opened for the second time as Emoch made the book its first visit since having deposited it. The God opened the book, skimmed through the writings of the other, grunted, and produced a golden quill, of metal forged but so intricate as to be completely indistinguishable from a real feather. And then he wrote. CONCERNING THE FORGING OF THE SOUL Know this. It was I that forged the Soul. Never forget this. And though they were stolen from me, this still means I hold insight others don't; that though I do not have them yet tamed, I know how to make the leash. For I know their structure, and from structure everything stems. And structure, in turn, from the way of things. On this, I shall expound. You know of Wax. We are here. All gods are here. Nowhere else. You know of Dreams, and how they resist us. I do not know, but I assume this is because they are near, but still not quite here. Of other places you do not know, and neither do I, except for the light that leaks from therein. We no longer see this because the light of the soul is so much brighter, it would be like taking note of an ember next to a pyre. But when I was alone, at the start? Back then there was nothing but ashes and dust. And embers. Thus was the first attempt at the soul naught but a simple lens. An attempt to magnify this empowering glow. At first it worked, but it proved unstable, shattering at unseen winds, brought to disalignment by alien forces. Then I tried the gemstone, which proved far more resilient. One facet towards its ember, to bring us the light we crave. One facet towards Life to anchor it to us, one facet towards Death to allow for its repurposing after its vessel fails. And one facet towards Dreams, to spy what is within. Other facets, to other directions? Perhaps. I still do not quite know how they direct the light at their chosen Gods. The Soul is still imperfect after all, still my greatest blunder, and is bound to have changed with the ages. I speak of this, because while I do not understand quite why the purity of a soul matters for forging, if it is due to material impurity in the resultant substance itself or some unknown factor, I do know how to check for it. And I know this, because each soul is a gem, and there is no rule to say that the light has to shine from one direction. Images fed are images received, and the purer the gem, the clearer the reflection. Thus my solution is a device of lenses and gears, that subjects the facet that is Death to the starkest and clearest images I can manage and they can comprehend, to images of brass spears and the fires of the Forgeheart. The device has an aperture facing the Dream, and if in the Dream these images reflect without stain or distortion, we can deem the soul as Pure. I shall report on my inevitable success. _____ OOC: Using CREATE, Artifice and Divine Smith to create Theantero fucked around with this message at 13:43 on May 18, 2019 |
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May 18, 2019 11:18
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Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer Ixhisitil puffed up, a move not unlike a human frown, as she contemplated her conversation with her corrupted predecessor. She had been...almost friendly. The bird goddess shook her head, no, she is an abomination and it is a trick. The Goddess of Madness was up to something and was just trying to distract her. "What to do, what to do?" The Sunbeam Quetzal tittered to herself. Ahhhhhh, this realm of the Celestial is without a master, mayhaps a change in that is in order. She beat her wings once, twice, and was then was aloft, her course bearing towards the palace of Luna, to discuss her designs.
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May 18, 2019 19:55
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 Kaladine and Luna-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked, Witch-Princess Of The Moon The moon is a silver majesty, a twirling silent world of light and tranquility. Ash-herons stalk across the surface, plucking the souls of future royals from the soil to be carried down to Wax itself. On the far side, the quetzal finds a great palace cast of electrum, held up with pillars of fine wood. It creaks in the thin atmosphere, almost a greeting. The entryway is like the swooping beak of a heron, filled with great works of Luna and the goddess Kaladine once was. The armor she once wore hangs at the very end, almost like a threat. Next to it stands a nervous blue-green heron wearing a cravat of woven silver. It bows deeply to Ixhisitl, displaying the night sky painted in it's feathers. "Most Exalted Sunbeam, I am terribly sorry but Luna-Aeo'na is taking no visitors today. She is most busy with wor-." Distantly, Ixhisitl can hear laughter and smell her. She can just barely hear a familiar voice. "Oh my darling, my beloved moonlight, your beauty only grows with the centuries." There is another peal of laughter. The heron winces. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 00:07 on May 19, 2019 |
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May 19, 2019 00:04
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Ixhisitl Goddess of the Sun, The Redeemer The Sung Goddess huffed and puffed out her feathers in annoyance. "Fine then, but deliver this message to your master. I have a request of her regarding the Celestial," Of course that vile witch is has her tentacles over the steward of her former realm, Ixhisitl thought to her self as she flapped her wings and departed. Mayhaps I will have to just stake my own claim and be done with the whole corrupted lot. The bird goddess shook her head. "Maybe there is another way" she muttered to herself. She sent her small avatars to the high priests of her cults with a simple message "If any of Her Chosen are to die, their bodies are to be left in the open in the mid day sun to be carried to her by her servants. Edit: Transmute + Sun to try and Psychopomp her followers souls. LunarShadow fucked around with this message at 21:16 on May 25, 2019 |
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May 25, 2019 20:39
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes "Ah yes, Rakhil, this will do quite nicely", Forex said with an appreciative nod. The cedar chest was immaculately finished, the long, curved lines giving it a certain lightness modestly hiding its sturdy construction. The opals it was encrusted with shined opulently in the bright rays of summer sun. As was their precise role in this. "I confess, you have been right about ditching the feathers and the symbolism. We could only assume how she feels about the birds. It is much better for the abstract beauty to speak for itself." For the next day the box was to be ensorcelled and filled to the brim with the finest, delicate tongues of flame, dancing gracefully as they radiate a downright mesmerizing light, bathing all around in their warm glory. A perfect adornment for the great fire in the sky, that proud sphere of light desperate to plant her stake and proudly take what is obviously her birthright. The delicate, tasteful finish to ensure her striking visage is seen all across the world - in all of its unceasing, blinding, scorching glory. - - - I want to give Ix the complimentary house warming gift of fire, like the friendly God I am.
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Jun 3, 2019 06:51
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It all started with the Sun. First it became hotter, stiflingly and unmercifully so. But that was the least of its evils, as Ixishitl's priesthood quickly discovered when, following their patroness's instructions, they exposed their honored dead to the noon's rays. As promised, the corpses were cleansed, blanched to almost nothingness, leaving behind a luminescent effigy that started to ascend towards the Sun, only to be abruptly stopped, and being left to roam the land, a cruel mockery of the soul it once was. Needless to say, burials and cremations quickly became the norm, to Emoch's great satisfaction. His deal with Kaladine granted him a constant pipeline of souls, and his studies and new instruments gave him unexpectedly clear insights on the nature of his flawed creation. As for the Witch-Empress, the Hour of the Wolf catched to mortal minds like wildfire, siphoning suitable souls to her goblet. Only Gray Willow, patroness of Sorrow, noticed, for her devoted were uniquely suitable to catch the godly illness. And so she wept, and she and her siblings swore up and down to never trust one touched by the Dark. All was grim for mortals, or so it seemed. Looking upwards was a constant reminder of the Dark's corrupting presence, the Sea became hungry and unpredictable, the Sun raised bright undead things. Only the Earth remained same as ever, greedy and malevolent. It was on hearts such as these that Nefretask's plea landed, inspiring love and appreciation... for their mortal condition. And so, those who followed Maladine and Jormgir, and turned upon their brush with the Dark, became the first Pilgrims of the Between Path, preaching for emancipation from meddlesome gods.
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Jun 4, 2019 14:43
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked It is a summer evening, in the rolling countryside where Forex's beloved cottage sits. The sky is pink, orange, powder blue. On the wind there is the smell of apples, mixed with cinnamon and hay. Crickets sing to one another. And on this evening, Forex sits in his cottage and balances his books - a ghostgrass cigarllo letting coils of smoke into the evening light, they dance in the breeze that stirs through an open window. He is deep in a subcolumn detailing cotton options when he senses it. The cigarillo smoke trembles. All the colors of the sky shift, becoming the palette of death and necrosis. In the rotting red sun, there is a smell, a moment. The sensation of letting go. There is a knock at his door. He opens it to find his eldest sister before him. She wears the same smile from her last visit, twisted just a little sharper to give it a cruel, smug cast. "Hello again, Dearest Brother." She looks at him, for the first time since the end of the Second Age. "You changed your beard, may I come in?"
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Jun 4, 2019 15:52
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Nefretask, Paradoxal Deity of Love and Hate The wheels start to turn. Again Nefretask's siblings damned heathens, how I detest them start their atrocities upon the creatures poor, poor sheep which she has pledged to protect. Indeed if she was to... To find a way to stop the dark on her family members destroy the dark and them as well, then the Paradox must find an ally on such a task. Perhaps the new one beloved little sister, so pure. Hopefully the witch hasn't yet managed to spread her filth burn it, burn her towards her yet... A black and white circle appears on the entrance of the newly-ordered Celestial Realms, with the Goddess of Love and Hate emerging from it, her emanations of mercy and cruelty quickly alerting the Sun Deity of her presence. "Now, now. Come here, Little Bird. I need to talk."
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Jun 4, 2019 16:13
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked Earlier, or perhaps later. Time is not reliable around entities such as these. In the forever-dark of the hadopelagic, under thousands of years of ruined ships compacted into something like sandstone and skeletons picked over by morays, there is a monster. The monster sleeps. It dreams, it's dreams are like the forever-dark - filled with motion beyond language and light eyes from other depths could never understand. The forever-dark, within and without, ripples. There is a rush of cold water, and the smell of rotting meat, a feast that drags one of the monsters minds towards wakefulness. It drags the next, and the next. All three open shared eyes. A tentacle gently strokes their slimy hide. Oh Raindrop... Familiar sing-song. Tentacles, heavy with rot and a disease, stroke the monster's jaw. There is a giggle in the darkness. Hello again. It's good to see you. There is a shape in the forever-dark. Mortal minds would shatter like stained glass at the sight. Deities would weep and fall to their knees only to pass into sweet oblivion, when they awoke they would not remember what they tried to fit into their eye sockets. But to Jormgozir, it was merely the face of her beloved. Getting some beauty sleep, are we?
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Jun 5, 2019 01:51
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 JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR How long has it been since tsIhheTey fed? Forex came, tsIhheTey vaguely remembers, but tsIhheTey did not respond, and he departed soon after. Something is wrong with tsIhheTey head, and no matter how deep tsIhheTey dives to escape, the light pursues thIheeTrm. So, attempting to find rest, tsIhheTey has fled from the matters of the surface world, of the mortals and the gods, of the Light and the Dark. Here, in the deepest depths of the oceans, where the day has never touched, the place where tsIhheTey has hibernated away entire ages, this is where tsIhheTey will go to sleep. IT WILL HUNGER. A problem for later. We will be missed. A problem for later. The world will change without us. A problem for later. Sleep. All tsIhheTey wants is sleep, solitude. And yet, tsIhheTey is being disturbed. How? Who? TSIhheTey comes very close to devouring this intruder, before it speaks, with her voice. "Compatriot.My love.WITCH." Some small measure of unity has been found for the triumvirate serpent, at least, as the speak in turns rather than all at once, though they still each do so from a different mouth. That much is to be expected. None of them would deign to sully their lips with the words of the others. "HowHowWHY are you here?"
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Jun 5, 2019 04:59
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked My love, I could fit through a keyhole if it was the only way to your side. She giggles through her rancid beak. I am an octopus, afterall. I can get so many places. Dozens of eyes wink at the eel-serpent. Tentacles pull her rotten flesh closer to the monster. She alone knows she is safe here, in this moment. It is the kind of power Kaladine craves. I've come because things have gotten terribly bad up there. The sun is an impudent little goddess who thinks herself wise enough to step into the role I abandoned. Kaladine laughs, it is a rich hearty sound. The caves shake and eel attendants flit into the dark. You can feel it, can't you? The poison she poured into the sun. It's strangling all the life with it's toxic radiance... She waits a beat, for the implication to sink in. ...all your precious food. The tentacles curl against Jormgozir's gills, trace the shape of her head fins. And I wouldn't want my beloved to starve, never ever. So I came to warn you, and ask you to help hide the world from the toxic sun with your wonderfully hideous Stormheart. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 05:17 on Jun 5, 2019 |
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Jun 5, 2019 05:13
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR In any other situation, on any other day, tsIhheTey would have followed this suggestion eagerly, without question. One third for the words, two thirds for the goddess speaking them. This is not a normal day, however, and tsIhheTey is uncharacteristically irritable, which is quite a high bar. "It's too bright.Too different.ITS EYES HURT. Let us sleep. Until night.Five more minutes.HUNGRY SOON."
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Jun 5, 2019 05:29
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked The night barely comes anymore, Raindrop. All thanks to her incompetence. But I can see you need rest. Kaladine flicks one of her head fins playfully. She marvels at the spines in it, dripping with horrific venom. How about another month? She plucks a spine from the serpent's head, and hides it between her thousands of tentacles. When she puts her mask back on she will keep it close, a keepsake. And maybe...your nest has room for two? The sun is dreadful for my spongy skin.
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Jun 5, 2019 05:41
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JJJooOrrRmmMggGooOzzZiiIrrR, the ADSwEeaVrkOpeUenRneEtdR "One more month." Irri speaks from her central mouth, the mouth with the silver tongue, and the rest of the triumvirate, reluctantly, agree. TSIhheTey will rest a bit longer. "Then, we will interveneassistWAKE. And as for your company?" Jormguar rests, dreaming of its next meal. Oz rests, closing their eyes and subsuming themselves in the dark. Only Irri remains awake, and she smiles. "There is always room for the finite within the infinite." ------------------ A month and a day later (tsIhheTey slept in a bit), Jormgozir rises from the deep, back into the dry world, the world of mortals and gods and too-bright suns. Our worshippers are lesser now! is this the Sun's doing? HURTS. HATE. Something must be done. Oz, for their part, have reservations, but when Irri insists that they trust Kaladine, and Jormguar demands something be done quickly, they reluctantly concede. Indeed, something must be done. In unison, tsIhheTey speak to the seas, to the clouds, to the rain. More than half of Wax's surface is water, and when tsIhheTey commands it, it obeys. "Clouds!Rain!THUNDER. Gather!Fall!CRASH." There is an old saying, though, that Irri invented long ago. Give a mortal a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a mortal to fish, you feed him for life. Perhaps the same will hold true here... I'd like to Empower people living on islands and beaches to summon Storms directly from The Seas. TL;DR: Delete another move to teach Humanity Rain Dance? > Yes No
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Jun 5, 2019 06:23
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked And from the sea the octopus disappears into the heart of the world, where the echoes are long and the shadows deep. She seeps through bedrock, past fossils and dead civilizations of the second age compacted into dust. She remembers their names. She remembers being the Paladin to them. What a fool she was. How much greater she is now. For the first time in aeons, she is at peace with herself. This was the way she was meant to be, yes. It had to be true if this felt so right for her. The sludge forms a smile as it drips from the cave ceiling outside the Vaults of Emoch. Moments later the Witch-Empress blooms from it. Her throne of tentacles follows. "Worldshaper." She says, barely above a whisper. "It is your associate, one who studies the arts of the soul with you. The Witch-Empress of the Wicked, and I request for an audience on feathered matters." Kaladine reclines, and watches the light flicker off the crystal stalactites. A wine glass appears in her hand, unbidden. She takes a long sip. Nothing like a good vintage of bitter recriminations to get her in the right mood to discuss matters with the Worldshaper.
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Jun 8, 2019 18:47
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper With a now-familiar trundle, the Golden Gates swung open as Emoch made his way outside, Soulhammer hanging from his hip. "Feathers are indeed troublesome. Mere pretenders to beauty, chaff masquerading as art", Emoch regarded his metal quill between his fingers, every vane an example of opalescent splendor, every barb a masterwork, "INFERIOR echoes of my design." "Bringers of a FALSE radiance." Emoch put his quill away and crossed his arms. "On the back of this agreement I grant you your audience, Witch-Empress." "SPEAK."
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Jun 8, 2019 19:01
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "She seeks to assert her claim over what is yours - the souls of the damned." She swirls her glass, and the the tentacle at the end of her hat twitches like a bored cat. "I have already taken steps to show how her assumptions are incorrect and make sure the current crop of souls has the time it requires for proper ripening. But she is still stealing from us, and that is where I seek your assistance." The tentacle pulls a rolled up map from some unknown space, then unfolds it for her. "Her scheme is fueled by the sun's light, and if something were to obscure the sun - perhaps a great quantity of volcanic ash..." The tentacles squirts ink all over the map. It dissolves. "...her scheme would, of course, falter. So I would ask you to provide that ash, and weaken her hold upon this world."
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Jun 8, 2019 19:07
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper "A PRESUMPTUOUS demand", Emoch's voice rumbled like a tectonic fault line, "But not an inherently unreasonable one." A beat, a small moment of silence, as Emoch gave the matter thought. Soon he began anew. "The ashes of the Forgeheart will blacken the sky and pepper the land with wrathful cinders. The Sun will be denied its petulant theft and be put to its place." "But if this be my move to combat our common enemy, then what shall be yours, other than what has already been achieved?" "I shall not be left in the dark alongside Wax." "SPEAK."
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Jun 8, 2019 19:18
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Kaladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Wicked "I will be the one to publicly humiliate her. The lesser deities are frothing mad at her, and I can use that as a weapon against her. If I am the one to pronounce her punishment - harsh, but moderated against the angriest voices, it will do much to assert our control over Wax - for to accept this judgement of her is accept our right to judge her implicitly." The tentacle grins, somehow. "And her political power will be strangled in the crib, isolating her and leaving us stronger." Kaladine matches the grin. The smell of rot and grime intensifies. "Of course if you'd like your own personal recompense I will be glad to help you at a future date. Consider it a favor owed."
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Jun 8, 2019 19:32
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| # ? May 19, 2024 01:12 |
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper Another moment of silence, a weightier one this time, one ended as Emoch offered the slightest nod. "You fight with your words, I fight with my means. I find these terms acceptable." "Now begone Witch-Empress, for I have actual work to commit to." "I shall ask for my favor later on." With that, the Worldshaper turned on his heels, and made his way back to The Vaults.
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Jun 8, 2019 19:46
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