A dangerous plot one where thousands could meet ill fate. Two Men, Witch hutners seek to unravel a mystery What little they know, could lead them to a greater discovery or their untimely death.
Unknown to these humble hunters, a shadow does wait for them. It beckons and twists at their approach, each time drawing away as they would hope to get closer. Only time will tell if the hunters can discover from whence this dark rot spreads, or if it will consume them first.
Ninke had not been expecting to be told she had... demolished a play-ball? The Felinid who had now introduced herself to be one Corporal Meris Fixun, a rather upset felinid apparently, seemed to be convinced Ninnke had destroyed something of hers and now deserved an apology. She had been respectful, no doubt due to Ninke's newly appointed rank, but she could feel the anger and frustration radiating off of the felinid from her eyes which looked like they wanted to stab Ninke. She gulped a bit and tried to think back through last night. She didn't remember smashing a ball... in fact the only thing she remembered 'destroying' was that ork head, she had crushed it with her cybernetic leg... come to think of it that head had seemed more round than most others Ninke had seen and had alot of extra metal...
She was only more confused when another guarsdman joined the group, insisting it was probably a good idea to apologize. She seemed confused by the situation, not certain how she as an officer was supposed to... deal with this. Was it insubordination? Should she be mad? Should she punish someone?
Ninke's eyes widened in realization that the skull may have been turned into some kind of... macabre sort of ball. She looked quickly to the felinid, here eyes regretful, "I-I ehm so sorry Corporal! I... I vhas... not right at thee time. I did not mean to destroy your ehm... toy.", she gave a smile of apology as others joined the group. One of which was... a beastman. Ninke could not help but cringe away from the beastly man, taking a step back, "uh-ehm... h-hello... trooper., she managed to respond, clearly... at least unsettled by his appearance. "[/color=palevioletrred] v-vhat ees your name... beastman?[/color]", she stammered out.
A familiar sound drifted through the twisted forest of Elkesis, a sound of labored breathing and heavy footfalls. A good creeped between the tress, deep in his own mind pondering the suffering of the world. He thought of those still in bondage he could not save, the wretched lost and alone in the world who payed him homage. He shed tears of blood for the souls he could not lead to his oasis in Elkesis. His footfalls were pain as he focused upon his own as well as others, the cruel spurs and spikes on his bones scratching and cutting his skin inside and out. The feeling of warped bones creaking and bending with stress as his head ached from the cruel helmet fused to it... and yet he walked. Through brambles and vines lined with thorns he stalked, seemingly unaware of their existence.
This was his land after all. No beast would dare harm their God, their caretaker, their creator. Elkesis thrived about him, spined warthogs scurried away from him to find other prey. The largest among them bowed their heads before turning, knowing it was they who must pay homage. He moaned quietly in pain and anguish, listening to the souls in pain in his ears who he only wished to relieve their suffering. Trees seemed to part before him and plants almost bowed to this king of thorns.
Eventualy he heard the sounds of one of his free folk bands in a clearing. They danced about a great fire, singing praise and rejoicing even in this desolate land. Children born here laughed and played, and the oldest among them told stories of their scars and of the great god of pain, of Naqqash who walked amongst them. the living god of the free folk. A smile found its place upon Naqqash as these souls sang to him, reveling in their strength and past their great pains they danced in his image. Through the trees he came, to a great many gasps from his people as they bowed to their god. He walked to a large felled tree, the free folk crowding around him in awe as their god towered before them. The sound of bones creaking and skin tearing could be heard as the pale skinned god sat heavily on the black wood, a sigh of pain escaping his lips. He looked to his people, gesturing for them to sit.
All did, ears and eyes open to their lord, their savior. He was not one to dissapoint. "A tale, good folk, of chains I bring and the lash that sits above. A great old man who withered beneath,and prayed to the stars above. Not for mercy no, for this there was no plea, but for the strngth in his arms and the love in his heart to spred to others like he. He said to sky 'Take not my scars away, for you see good sky it is them that I must thank for the strength in me.' Our scars only make us all the stronger, for without them we would be less. Never forget your scars good folk, for they will never leave.", it was then the call of the guardian rang in his head, and Naqqash sighed once more as he stood and bid his people goodbye. In a flash of the moon he had dissapeared, leaving only the wonderous eyes of his folk, and the story he'd left behind.
Naqqash arrived in the hall shortly after Ilyona. What a dichotomy it was, for the radiant sun to be followed by grotesque thorns of the lesser god. No longer did he moan in pain or anguish, for now it no longer mattered. He did not ponder suffering and so his strength prevailed, and no pain could be felt by him. He looked about the room to all who had arrived. Oksana, slayer of his father and the one who so vehemently oppsed the return of his center. Ferrum, a man who had stood by war in the rebellion but who Naqqash had met only briefly. Then there was Aesis, the braggart sea god who even now seemed to mock the death of his own father, Naqqash's granfather. He looked... odly peaceful for a dead king, Naqqash thought. Of course Ilyona stood not far from Naqqash, but he had hardly ever met the sun goddess, unsure what to think of her or the Guardian who sat at the head of the table next to the throne.
Naqqash quietly took his stance near thee end of the table, a bit behind his fathers old chair, where he could not sit... another slight for him to bear. He glanced only at Ferrum long wnough to give a nod of acknolwledgement, before finally speaking. His heavy voice carried well, but was strangely subdued nonetheless, "Hello. I am humbled to meet here once more, though the circumstance is... painful. Granfathers loss is another burden to bear, and so I shall bear it, as must we all."
Naqqash was born a grotesque. Were he not a demigod he no doubt what have been born dead. His bones were warped and many fused together, great spiky growths ripped free of his skin and his skeleton was dotted with cruel bone spurs. His skin was rent and torn, tougher than leather by the time he reached adult hood. His face was so rictus and terrible his father had it hidden beneath a thick helm... through which the spines grew and eventually fused it to his skin like the rest of his armour. He stands at about 13 feet tall, and is well muscled despite his twisted form.
Personality: Naqqash is a serious God, he is slow to jest or joke as he believes such things can be distracting. However, despite what you'd expect, Naqqash is neither dowre nor depressed. Indeed, he carries himself with a poised since of hope and determination. He is never idle or lazy, intent on making his hopes and the hopes of his followers a reality. He lets not his pain stop or hinder him, turning it into his strength, a cross to bear turned into tool rather than a crutch or hindrance. He practices what he preaches, he accepts his suffering and moves on, keeping it from hurting him more than it absolutely must. So, while not jovial or seemingly happy, he is kind and understanding. He wishes ill will on very few, only the holders of the lash who do so without thought or remorse. His amiable nature gives way to endless determination when the need arises, stubbornness is a trait he keeps from his father.
Major Domain: None
Minor Domains: Pain and Loss
Your Avatar:
A massive three headed dog,large as many other avatars standing several hundred feet tall.
Stance: Naqqash is yet to declare an alleigance, too afraid of making the same mistake as his father and backing the wrong Gods. But, suffice to say he hopes to find a side to back that gets him his fathers Center of Power, an item he longs for an believes is his by birthright.
Loyalty During the Rebellion: Naqqash sided with his father, the God of Greed, who had sided with War. During the war Naqqash was his fathers principle warrior, being his only child. the Demi god was a talented warrior, said to be able to outlast any opponent in a fight. Some claimed he could not tire, and that no amount of pain could stop him. That his thick skin, dull reaction to pain and thick bones made him nearly un-beatable. While simply a myth made during war, he remained unbested until the very end. Once his father was slain by the Goddess of the storm Oksana, Naqqash immediately surrendered. It was no longer his fight.
After that he bent the knee to the King once more, his stake gone with his fathers death.
Center of Power: Naqqash has no center of power... his father did. But that is lost to him, or rather kept from him, by the King of the gods so he cannot become a full god. This is due to the fear of the King and Oksana that greed is untrustworthy inherently and would inevitable betray them again. Naqqash is convinced he would do no such thing, and deserves his fathers center.
Relations
-a good friend and spiritual son of Sekh, god of pestillence (Obscene) -Under the suspicion of the Goddess of time, andd trying to prove himself to her and others (Kit kat) -enemy of Oksana, slayer of his father and one of the primary people keeping his fathers Center of Power out of his hands -Ahru is a friend and positive influence on Naqqash, who is often happy to see the trickster even when neing the subject of jokes and pranks -
Powers
Naqqash is a dangerous combatant, though his grotesque form could suggest otherwise. Though slower than many other Gods, almost none can match his resilience. In fighting Naqqash relies on his strength and ability to take damage and keep fighting. Though taslented in his own right, the strength he has gained from his life of pain and hardship is his greatest tool. Rare is the fighter who has even a chance to outlast Naqqash.
Godly Equipment
Golden thorn: Naqqash's personal weapon, it is a fusion of his own old blade and his father's Gods-bane sword.
Fused armour: His armor has long since fused with his body, meaning unlike many others who wear armour he is far less slowed down by it. In addition, the armour is nearly impossible to seperate from his body.
Bone Spines: His body is covered in cruel, sharp protrusions that torment his form, and are extremely sharp and make fighting him up close exrtremely hazardous.
Demi Gods:
Naqqash's one and only child, his daughter Scylla is quite young compared to many other demigods having been sired and born shortly after the rebellion. She, like her father, was born a monstrosity though in quite a different way. She is composed of two bodies, one of a monstrous beast below, and her more human but still warped half placed atop its shoulders. Her face is rumoured to carry the marks of a beast as well. She dotes on her father, even taking a mask like his own to cover he face, and seeks to support him in all endeavours.
Name of your Land: The followers of Naqqash and indeed Naqqash himself have no lands, being the dispossessed and enslaved. His worshippers are the cults beneath the lash, the gatherings of slaves in the night and the grotesques in the gutters. Those who are lost, in pain, who see no end to their own suffering.
These are his worshippers. The young god has far less than others, but thhey are truly fanatical. His priests are the ones who whisper frantically in the night about hope, about freedom and prosperity. He likes it this way. To help the desperate and destitute, and give them hope when it seems there is none. The closest to a land he has are the wilds of Elkesis, a place of deep gnarled woods and disturbing beasts. The beasts and wilds like their creator are twisted and warped and in much pain. Some shoulder it like their master, others are cruel and ornery predators. Also in these woods are his only 'organized' churches. Escaped slaves and grotesque pilgrims dance amongst the trees, embracing their pain and celebrating it together.
It is their home, and Naqqash loves it this way.
Lands: The Wilds of Elkesis are like something out of a terrifying tale or painting. The trees are blackened and twisted, their trunks gnarled and made up of extremely tough wood. The branches have deep red leaves or no leaves at all, creating a desditute and dark look. The beasts are little better, often large and as disturbing in appearance they prowl the woods fighting eachother or seeking food and always in pain or with some other suffering. Massive hairless dogs with black and cracked skin and a mouth filled with rock like teeth seemingly placed happhazardly along their jaws. Long reptiles with wrinkled scales and pained expressions, beasts stranger still prowl the thick woods with dead foliage that seems to always grow.
Gnarled roots and vines seem to try and drag the inhabitants down... but still people live here. The free folk as they call themselves are all quite alike. All have suffered greatly in one way or another, and bear their scars happily. Former slaves and grotesques, shunned children and bastards, victims of abuse at the hands of loved ones or others, prisoners unjustly imprisoned and tortured. All have suffered in their own way, and live together now in the great cults of their lord. They walk through the wilds, often armed and armoured to survive, but exalting their freedom. At night they will build great pyres and dance about them, the scars of life apparent on their flesh in all their own unique ways. Sometimes one of the cults will be visited by their god, whi will join them in revelry, or tell great stories of his suffering, or even set them on a mission to bring more like themselves to this holy land.
Here all are free.
People: The people of Elkesis were by and large not born their. Most are runaways and wanderers, pilgrims and oasis seekers. They say in order to find his land as a mortal you must have experienced a great pain in their life, and that the gnawing ache will lead there as scars throb and even bleed as they get closer. They are from everywhere and it shows, sking colors of every range are seen and members of many different races find salvation here. And all kinds are welcome, for we all seek a place where we suffer no longer.
Culture: Nomadic, the people of Elkesis move where the food is in the wilds, unable to farm the top soil. But they do not do so with frowns, and complain very little. they are stoic and determined to survive in their new lives of freedom, free from thie old pains. All worship Naqqash here, for only his worshippers would ever stay in such a place, let alone find it.
Technology: The technology is largely primitive or mix and matched as the populace simply brings whatever they can with them to this oasis.
Capital: The closest thing to a capital is the great thicket. A massive patch of briars, thorns, and downed trees. Its said if you can get to the middle it is where Naqqash lives when he is not travelling.
BoundToPlay
Gisk
