No worries! I think we're both waiting for @marxxie to post, or perhaps even @Sanity43217 should we want to see what's happening away from the conflict.
Scratching his chin in thought, Aethel’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the finer details of his future trials. They had been working on said details for days now, focusing on nothing else as their desire to get it perfect compelled them to ignore the many distractions that would get in the way. It was a hellish experience, but at long last the final details slipped into plac-
“Gods and goddesses of the Galbar, you are summoned to the divine palace! Come and seek the truth! Come and seek salvation! Soon, fiends will encircle our world, and so we must fight against them! War has arrived and warriors must answer the calling, lest our home be ravaged by evil. The cycle begins anew, so come to the palace to claim your vigor and your strength!”
Blinking in surprise at the announcement, Aethel glanced around for a moment in confusion… before looking back at the tablet they had intended to write down the details of the trials with slowly amounting horror. They couldn’t remember what they had just been thinking about. It had been there and now, ‘Poof!’, it was gone.
For the first time in their existence, Aethel yelled out “SON OF A-” before pushing themselves off the chair they had been wearing a groove into and flipping the table in a rage.
Stamping his hoof against the wooden floor hard enough to crack it several times, they finally called out “If you’re going to invite me to the palace, you can at least open a portal!”
The words compelled a portal into existence before the deity, beckoning them inside. Beyond the threshold was the familiar sight of the interior within the divine palace, specifically the doorway leading into the throne room.
Taking a deep breath, Aethel accepted the offer and stepped through. “Thank you. Now this had better be important because your little announcement just ruined several days worth of time and effort doing something anathema to my nature that I might have to start from the beginning with.” They spat with clear irritation in their voice as they looked around for Homura.
Through the doorway and in the throne room, a strange sight greeted Aethel: Instead of being seated upon His throne, the Monarch of All lay impaled by a massive sword on the floor, with shifting symbols and swirling patterns staining His entire body - an evident entrapment spell designed to imprison and sap Him of strength. Nearby the Monarch of All awaited the source of the announcement, Homura herself, barely noticeable because of how diminutive she seemed beside the fallen god of creation.
Aethel could also sense that somewhere within the room was Ruina. She was a bit out of sight, but still close enough to hear the conversation, and respond as needed if a fight broke out. An aura of her power lingered around the room, hinting at just how much she had contributed to incapacitating The Monarch of All. Homura set her sight upon Aethel, one eye was the same old burning scarlet while the other unfamiliar eye was an obsidian black without an iris or pupil.
“Welcome Aethel, as before I have no intention of harming you.” She said, still openly wielding her golden spear, as ethereal arms protruded from her back carrying an ornate silver shield and a brazier burning with a fire shaped like a six-winged strange creature. The small red goddess had also claimed many more shards; a frightening number compared to any of the others among the Divine. “Unless you are my enemy, of course.” Homura added, her voice neither friendly nor hostile, ever emotionless as she spoke. She tilted her head as she gazed at Aethel, as if curious whether the current situation changed how this interaction would begin compared to the more cordial nature of their last conversation.
One would have expected any deity freshly arrived to this situation to be all kinds of horrified. Aethel merely looked between Homura and the deposed Monarch with something more akin to minor surprise. “You know, when I first met you dear sister, I had a pretty solid idea that something like this would happen sooner or later. I mean considering that all of us were spawned from the essence of our creator, it was only a matter of time before you started to question just how pure an entity that could create someone like Yesaris could truly be. That being said, I didn’t think we would get to this point for at least a few decades… maybe a century or two.”
Tilting their own head as they morphed into their natural form, the equine deity offered a playful smirk. “I mean you are rather zealous in your crusade against things you consider wrong with the world… including mortality and enjoying life in general. But to answer your question about if we’re friends or foes… Are you intending to take his throne and enforce how you feel the world should be on everyone else?”
Homura turned her attention to the empty throne, much too large for her to take and not look completely comical while doing so, then she spoke. “No, that is not my intention. I am acting now to protect the Galbar from annihilation… I have no desire to enforce others into adhering to my will - The throne shall remain empty until we achieve an era of peace and our Lord makes amends with His elder brother. Until then, I heed the first commandment of our Lord; I will give meaning to this world.” Her gaze returned to Aethel, and the blackened one of her eyes visibly altered, becoming fathomless like the void, endless depths that threatened to swallow those that stared too long into its bleakness. “Would you have attempted to usurp the throne if I had claimed otherwise?” She asked softly.
There was a brief shake of the head. “No. I would have destroyed it myself. After all, once someone claims it via conquest it’s just going to be endless coups and civil war until there’s only one deity left standing.” Having revealed a little of how their mind worked, one of their tendrils started to brush their poofy mane. “However, I’m so glad you’re doing the honorable thing and allowing everyone to access the power that is their birthright without question or demand on what they do with it.”
“Indeed, though I shall be more involved in the distribution of said power.” Homura replied.
“No, you won’t.” Aethel intercepted quickly, ensuring that Homura didn’t try to change the topic too quickly. “In fact, you should have as little to do with the distribution as possible. I am familiar enough with you and your works that you would naturally start to be tempted to distribute according to your own, rather strict sense of morality. Oh, I know it wouldn’t start that way. You just want to protect Galbar and if Yesaris created another form of lifeform that burrows into people's brains and controls their actions to further his goals… Well, sooner or later you’ll be tempted to step in and tell him that he has to use his great power to aid Galbar, likely in a certain manner. Considering you’re also the one who toppled the Monarch…” They let the implications go unsaid.
Homura simply nodded, before she continued. “Your concerns are valid, but I shall be involved in the distribution of power. I have incapacitated our Lord and imprisoned Him, but let it be known it was His negligence and His lies that led to Him being toppled from His throne. I have sworn a blood oath with our sister, Ruina, that I shall speak the truth. Let it also be known that all among the Divine will receive an even portion of the power, to do with what they will, regardless of my strict sense of morality. Lastly, Yesaris is our brother, and I must have faith that he would be of aid, even if I say nothing at all.” With those words, Homura began walking towards Aethel, before suddenly appearing a step away. “I wish to ask you another question; what would you do with this power?”
If Aethel was surprised by the sudden closeness, they didn’t show it. Instead they shrugged at her question. “Pretty much what I’m already doing. Even if I might be inclined to make Astus be polite and say please before he gets his share. That’s not a matter of morality, that’s just because when I talked to him after giving him a hand with his hiveminded fungal infestation he was kind of a jerk. He’ll still get it with no strings attached, but I’m comfortable enough with myself to know I would insist he ask nicely first just to spite him.”
“I do have a question for you though. Those extra shards you’ve got… did you go around murdering a bunch of our kin or are you going to actually give those back now that you’ve overthrown the Monarchy?” He asked somewhat coyly. “Because that buzz of raw power you’re swimming in right now must feel real nice right now.”
“Those that have had their shards claimed shall have their shards returned, should they ask for such. I will also provide power to all among the Divine, regardless of whether they are polite. I would only ask my questions and regardless of the answers, all shall receive their portion. Does this appease you, Aethel?” Homura inquired.
Aethel tilted their head slightly… before simply saying “It will… if you promise me that is the complete truth and that is what you will do… with serious consequences on par with divine retribution if you willingly break that promise.” There was a moment of thought, before an idea came to Aethel as their eyes brightened. “You can grant me enough power to create an enforceable oath with a punishment that can take effect, even with your increased state, correct?”
“If that is what you desire. I promise you the complete truth, and that I shall grant equal power to all deities that come to the palace to receive their portion, this I swear. I am assuming you would ask for additional power to impose this oath upon me, yes?” Homura asked as she began walking back to her original position.
“Under normal circumstances I would happily take you at your word. But considering the amount of personal reward you would gain from subverting your duties and breaking your promises I confess that a safeguard should be put into place.” Aethel admitted as their tendrils settled down. “I also believe this would be a fair punishment. Homura, if you willingly break your promises in regards to your current position as regent and the duties that conveys, you will instantly be stripped of all divinity and cast onto Galbar to life out a mortal life. Do you agree with this condition?”
Homura shook her head and glanced back over her shoulder as she spoke. “You are terrible at oaths. It is too vague and too easily abused. You must be exact, or I will be free to do what I wish. The previous promise was more poignant, more precise, and therefore more binding. Hmm… I promise to distribute the power of the divine in equal portions to all among the divine that come to the divine palace and request such-”
“And grant free, unquestionable access to all who request it without hesitation or arrive at the Palace under their own power. As well as informing all deities that access will always be granted if they ask for it.” Aethel quickly added, eyebrow raised as they gazed at Homura in complete seriousness, clearly showcasing that if they had wanted to rack her across the coals with binding rules, they could have.
“In exchange for a verbal or telepathic answer to a single question I ask them. I shall also speak the truth and inform them that they will always receive their portion if they request it in this manner, and that they are free to use the aforementioned power however they wish. Should I fail to uphold this promise, I shall be stripped of my divinity and cast onto the Galbar to live a mortal life. Do you accept my promise?” Homura inquired, as enough power to enforce the oath poured forth from where the Monarch of All lay stricken, and flowed freely into Aethel.
Aethel nodded their head. “I accept and will hold you to your promise.” With the words granted, there was a stomp of a hoof on the palace floor… and it was done. Offering a small sigh, the equine did say next “Homura, may I have my divine power now? I believe I have already answered your question.”
“You have and you may.” Homura proclaimed, and once more, power came from the Monarch of All, gathering above them before merging with Aethel. “You also have my gratitude, Aethel.” She said as she stood where had been standing when Aethel entered the throne room, then offhandedly added. “I will also inform you that your branch is yours to do with what you will. I have sent word to Pride that she is to give it to you, should you visit Keltra in the future.”
“Oh, she can keep it.” Aethel offered without hesitation. “Personally I never really cared all that much about the branch itself. It was more the fact that our brother stole it from us without even trying to ask. Pride’s a good girl though… but I admit she really should get out of Keltra at some point. Poor girl must be going stir crazy. There was a brief pause… before they added “The Rattus are currently setting up for a festival at the moment. They’re celebrating the creation of an ocean craft able to carry them to a land that’s not connected to their own, as well as holding trials to decide who will succeed Raethel as the next chosen champion of the Rattus people. How does your daughter feel about rats?”
“I am afraid I would not know. Aside from the curse placed upon rats by Tuku so that their kind would be perceived as revolting by others, I know of no other reason why she would be ill disposed to them. However, considering Keltra is filled with large mute rodents at the moment, perhaps I am wrong and she would become rather irked by the presence of more.” Homura answered.
…There was a blink as Aethel tilted his head. “Keltra is filled with large, mute rodents?” This was honestly the most surprised they had sounded this whole conversation.
“I am teaching mortals how to become warriors. Humans and maramodas alike. As I have said before, war has arrived. Fiends are coming that hunger for the eradication of existence, an end. Annihilation. We must be ready to fight.” Homura replied, remaining impassive.
There was a moment of silence… before Aethel simply said “You know what? I don’t know enough about the situation to have an opinion on it and I don’t really care enough to investigate. So I’m just going to get going and leave you too… whatever it is you do when no one else is around. Take care sister.”
“You as well.” Homura intoned, bidding Aethel farewell.
Aethel is figuring out a plan for the future trials of the rattus that will determine who shall succeed Raethel when they are interrupted, hearing Homura’s announcement, and pass through a portal to arrive at the divine palace. Aethel sees the results of Homura’s coup, and converses with her to ascertain how Vigor will be distributed among the divine, along with mentions of morality, the arriving annihilation, etiquette, and recent events on the Galbar. After making Homura agree to a binding oath, and peacefully collecting their Vigor, Aethel takes their leave.
Homura bestows 10 Vigor to Aethel to empower the oath that binds her to her promise of providing power to any of the Divine that requests it.
Homura bestows another 10 Vigor to Aethel, for the deity to do with it what they will.
There was the realization that something had gone awry, as the princess gathered her remaining soldiers to her side during the last moments of their flight through the mountains before the coming of dawn. The sight of how few warriors she had left among her company, combined with the fatigue she felt after moving through this difficult terrain for hours on end while the storm continued to rage above, both left her disheartened, but she refused to surrender to despair. She needed to devise another course of action now because the enemy had relented in their chase, somehow aware of the awaiting ambush ahead perhaps... Saoirse shook her head in ire as she heavily breathed with exhaustion. In her mind, she analyzed the situation and attempted to see it from the view of her enemies: It was evident that her attack was helplessly desperate, and they did not truly have to chase after her forces in order to defeat her...
Yet they left themselves vulnerable to further attacks by letting their assailants survive for now, not that Saoirse's future plans had much chance of a success either. She had failed to lure the beast out of its cave and into her trap, as it seemed this beast possessed more cunning than she had thought it had, which had proven to a grave mistake considering her current predicament. In truth, she had few other ways of dealing significant damage to the enemy aside from the danger of the mountains themselves, but the illusions her magicians had summoned would disperse with the arrival of daylight, rendering the trap useless. Lastly, though the storm helped hid them from their pursuers, it continued to batter at morale. Saoirse did not know how long her soldiers would continue to fight, when all hope seemed lost and the weather killed them before the enemy does. There was no shelter they could find that offered protection from the howling winds and endless rain.
She spoke with her knights as they sought further commands to relay to their own soldiers, hearing what they have to say as well. "We must harass our foes, compel them into chasing us. Our arrows are not enough, so we must sabotage anything and everything we can: False attacks and illusions. Disruptions to their supply lines. Infiltrate their camp and spread chaos. We will force them to suffer our wrath until their own fires of rage are blazing and they come hounding after us like the infernal dogs they are. Then we will deliver our retribution, a crushing blow to remind them of our strength." Saoirse proclaimed.
Saoirse hated how hollow her voice sounded, almost suppressed by the presence of the violent storm, but at least her words were heard. One of her knights held up a hand as he spoke: "I'm afraid we're lacking the numbers, your grace. The common folk all fled, and we lost too many in our retreat." He hesitated before he continued. "The odds would be against us even in normal circumstances, but our enemy is led by the devil himself. Mere men are not enough, and its seems the gods have forsaken us... Besides, what happens when they choose to march upon our homes? We can't stop them. I have to protect my family..."
The princess wanted to curse her fate aloud, but instead remained silent as she pondered his words. More of her knights joined in their brother's disposition, while others advocated on her behalf and insisted she would find a way to win in the end. "Enough." She said, bringing their fruitless bickering to an end, waiting until they all turned their attention back to her and were listening. "The gods are watching us, weighing our worthiness - Let them have mercy when judging our loved ones, should our hated enemies seek to strike our home and families as opposed to facing us in battle, may the gods be gentle to the innocent and eternally curse the cruel and cowardly! For now, we must steel our hearts, and endure the hardships ahead of us. We must remain strong and faithful! We will find a weakness in our foes, and we can attain victory if we do not give in to fear! I am your princess, and I ask you to fight with me!"
"Have you come up with a new strategy then?" There was a mixture of oxymoronic admiration and scorn in the voice of the one who questioned her, but Saoirse embraced the insinuated challenge with newfound vigor and resolve. Before she answered, another voice interrupted as one of the scouts returned and came to her. The scout was frightened and frantic, looking behind him as if terrified he was being followed, but there was nothing. Swiftly he told them what he had seen, and Saoirse felt her sudden strength wane upon hearing his words: "My princess, they have the king! They've captured him and spirited him away!"
I'm going to write a post tomorrow where Saoirse learns that her father has been captured and tries to figure out what to do next, however feel free to continue any interactions between the king and the emperor.
Dark riders on dark steeds rode through a land that made them look radiant by comparison. At the center of the tight formation Finley, Anak'thas’ messenger, rode with little experience made up for by a high degree of fear. All that stood between him and the dead lands beyond the road were five nomads and a horned priestess who were putting on brave faces.
Their steeds were weighed down by saddle bags stuffed with food, as well as plentiful arrows and at least one spear each, which slowed them some, but if there was one upside to this land, it was that the road that pierced through it was a marvel that entirely made up for the speed lost from their food stores.
As such they were making good time through the wastes, their steeds having allowed them to either out run or skirmish to death the odd giant insect that had wandered into their path, and their ignorance to the value of the crystalline flora having meant there had been no temptation to stray from the path. Now, however, their pace slowed as they approached the node, they slowed, for there was a presence there. It was towering, wisps of darkness that their minds took in as a whole and read as strangely human shaped, though it was so vague that none could say if it were just a trick of the light or the mind.
So they found themselves stopped in their tracks, unsure if they should push on and risk whatever the presence was, or turn back and renege on their oaths. Eventually the horned priest cursed and put herself forwards as the one to test the waters, the cloaked and hooded woman urging her steed forwards at a nervous trot towards the node while the rest hung back with their bows (likely futilely) held at the ready.
Monica stepped out of the shadows, as though she had been traversing another unseen realm closely beside the horned priest for an unknown period of time. The light of the golden path slowly introduced her, as sections of her shape appeared piece by piece, a deep darkness alive with reverence and curiosity, clinging to her like a child, reluctant to let go. The lone goddess revealed herself akin to the way the moon and stars, gentle and glowing with pale peacefulness, revealing their sacred selves when night descends upon a forlorn world seeking illumination. Her eyes seemed to shimmer as she gazed upon the riders, and so she presented herself with a delicate smile and soft words. “I am Monica, the Mother of Maelite, and a protector of the pilgrims upon the Golden Path. There is no need to be afraid when in my presence.”
Both human and horse were startled by her sudden appearance from the gloom, but her words soothed the fear of the mortals, who in turn quickly soothed that of beasts. The horned one slipped off of her steed and onto the golden rode, before bowing and saying “We are honored by your presence and protection” as the other riders put away their weapons. Then she stood upright once more, flipping back her dark hood to reveal raven hair, rosy skin and a warm smile.
“And I am sure I speak for all of the 12th realm when I say that it is a relief to find you alive and well” she said, which got a few nods from the others as they rode over and joined the priestess on the ground. She made a quick round of introductions, ending with “and I am Lilly, disciple of Xavior.”
“I am seeking my brother. Do you know where I may find him now?” Monica asked, ever exuding a polite and yet awkward aura around even the very small number of humans. She stood before them as a kind and gentle goddess, but retained an eternally ethereal quality that alienated herself from the rest of them, separated as a source of visible comfort yet so distantly out of reach akin to the moon and stars. She was otherworldly; an aspect of the divine, and to be divided from mortals in such a non-subtle, but still insidious fashion, evoked grief which painfully grasped her heart, so frail, and strangled it. There was cruel irony in how she seemed to be the more haunting visage among their number, how she must have appeared akin to a ghost returning from death, however it was these humans in her eyes which were mortal and would eventually die regardless of her efforts to save them that seemed much more macabre.
She startled herself with the sudden feeling of wet streaks trailing down her cheeks, as obsidian tears fell from her eyes. Monica averted her gaze from Lilly and the other mortals, hiding her tears of mourning for her sake and for the sake of the humans. Her sorrow should burden others, and she wished that others would not heed her crying for she sensed the looming presence of the Shepherd come closer. The dark colossus had vanished from view when she had greeted the riders, but it had yet to actually move until now. Even with her divine sight, she could not see its shape, but she knew it was kneeling right beside them, head almost pressed against the ground to better see her. The shifting shadows were long and hazy around them, slowly easing the boundaries between the endless black and finite bright path they stood upon, warning those that dwelled in the light of their limited life, dreadful evidence of an awaiting inevitable demise.
The human’s for which she moved were confused by the brief flash of emotion she displayed before hiding it, and ignorant to the source of it too “When we left he still resided in the temple around the 12th node” Lilly explained, and then added “If you travel back the way we came, you will no doubt find him there still, safe and sound” misplacing the source of that glimpse of sorrow.
“We ourselves seek Benea, and, to an extent knowledge of what happened here and to the people that followed you. Are they safe? Did they continue down this road to another land?” she then asked, as the others humans and their steeds closed ranks instinctively as the darkness played at the edge of their senses.
Monica merely nodded as she cleansed herself of teary stains, before turning to face them once more and gesturing along the glittering golden path that traveled north beyond the stout black pillar that could be seen ahead. “Benea went farther onward to claim a node. Her intention was to reconnect with Anak’thas and Dzallitsunya before reconvening at another node to discuss the future of the Crucible. Unfortunately I do not know her exact location, but I believe the others that traveled with her remain safe.” She explained, and her words were accompanied by the arrival of numerous umbral specks drifting languidly through the air like blackened ashes carried by the wind - the textureless dark inviting itself onto the golden path, aimless and ambivalent as it swirls around the goddess and hovers among the riders.
“That is heartening to hear” Lilly replied, letting out a breath she had not known she had been holding before continuing “and I am sure everyone back home will be glad to know it too, once we return from our journey there.”
While she stayed focused the others found their eyes, ears and curiosities drifting to the dark motes, with one of them eventually plucking up the courage to attempt to scoop one out of the air into her hands. The small speck was chilling to touch, poking pinpricks of the frigid cold that left lingering traces upon the bodies as more motes descended upon the others, but the stains were quick to disperse as well, leaving no remnant of themselves behind.
“Make haste… Never stray from the golden path on your journey, and should you encounter any of the lost denizens of Maelite upon the road, ride past them or please push them back into the darkness, as the light will protect you.” Monica proclaimed, and her words stirred the shadows once more; pulsing before turning into a sudden vista of swirling, twirling, tenebrous terrain which appeared across the black realm, though whether it was the true shape of the land or just an illusion created by the dancing darkness was difficult for the mortals to discern. It was a combination of haunting beauty and agile horror, graceful like an unknown hunter in the night; swiftly surprising and passionately attentive as if alive and aware. The hypnotic patterns that appeared the longer the mortals looked seemed to stare back, conveying cryptic and enigmatic expressions that creeped into their minds.
“It will be as you say” Lilly replied before giving a short bow and a “thank you for your guidance” while the others muttered much of the same, with one having to be physically nudged into doing so after being caught by the spirals. What had been relief had set in upon the arrival of Monica discontent had begun to set in more and more, which meant that when the mote catcher asked: “If I might ask goddess … Why did you make this place the way it is?” She was elbowed in the side by Lilly.
“Heed not her words. You have already blessed us with your guidance, we should ask nothing more of you when we already cannot repay your kindness” she the priestess insisted, her eyes betraying the cautious fear she felt in her heart.
“Were we blind before being born? Were we once empty vessels before becoming ourselves? Deprived of sensation and safety, will we regain what we lost, I wonder? Maelite makes us blind and empty so that we can learn to perceive the world around us, and be instilled with new purpose, new understanding. Darkness gives shape to light, and light gives shape to darkness. They define each other. Akin to darkness and light, I made this place with both the love and hatred in my heart. Perhaps after you leave and return home, you will understand.” Monica answered with a combination of musing aloud and esoteric platitudes seemingly harmless, which starkly contrasted with the otherworldly sight of the white winged goddess standing before the precipice where the protective path of light and the profuse presence of the black fathomless abyss encountered each other.
The mortals certainly didn’t know what to make of it, not collectively anyway. As the asker of the question committed the words to memory and would eventually write them down, the priestess simply smiled and thanked her for her words of wisdom and finally asked “Is there anything we can do for you, goddess? Provisions? A steed? An Escort? Anything we can do to ease your own journey and repay you for your protection and wisdom?”
“Your generosity is much appreciated, but I cannot accept such gifts. Our brief conversation has been more than enough to ease my mind, and my protection comes freely to the kind and curious like yourselves, so do not concern yourself with repayment. I only wish for all of you to find peace and joy in this world wrought with sorrow. Hmm… should you find Benea, would you please give this to her for me? Let her know I will seek her out after I have spoken with Xavior.” Instead of receiving anything from the riders, Monica conjured forth a large crystal carved to look like a pair of wings; a crystal which fit in the palm of her hands, then she offered it to Lilly as she made her request. She gave another subtle smile to them, conveying her content and her faith in their conviction.
“Of course goddess” Lilly replied, a touch relieved it seemed at being able to do something in turn for the goddess, as she reached out and took the crystal as requested “we’ll make sure it she gets it, and let her know your will as well of course”
Monica remained silent as she ascended, disappearing in the clouds of darkness as though she were a figment of one’s imagination or simply a dream they all had shared. Then without warning, the path of light upon which the riders stood rumbled slightly, but became quickly still soon after without an explanation. Aside from themselves, nothing else stayed in sight, nothing except for the observant shadows that preoccupied themselves with swallowing the rest of the world leaving loneliness like a companion to walk beside them throughout the rest of their travels in the susurrating void. It was only the apathetic abyss all around, alone and clamorous, contemptful of the light and those that walk within its confines, always threatening to tear down the last source of illumination in this shadowy land.
The mortals, once more bereft of divine protection in this misbegotten land, collectively shivered and then, after the gift for Benea was hastily stashed, quickly remounted and raced one more towards the other side, still not knowing quite what they would find there.
Anak'thas’ messenger and his escorts, a few nomads and a priest, are riding through node 11 when they come across Monica. They are glad to know she is alive and that the humans that had been with her traveled on into Benea’s territory. From the goddess they also learn a bit about the land and receive some esoteric platitudes and a vague understanding of why the land is the way it is (an understanding that does not involve “I hit it real hard and made this unintentionally”) and then promise to deliver a winged crystal to Benea on Monica’s behalf.
Then they continue on their journey while Monica travels back the way they came, heading to meet up with Xavior.
She awoke from her horrors that haunted her in her dreams, and found herself in a new nightmare where fathomless shadows shrouded all, there was nothing except her broken body surrounded by shifting shadows whispering into her ears and creeping upon her skin. She could not flee, wracked with agony when she attempted to move even slightly. Every breath she drew was excruciating, and cold enough it seemed to choke her with ice coalescing in her throat. She felt as though she were sinking into the depths of darkness, where the chilling embrace of death awaited her.
Undulating pressure built upon her, the swarm of shadows nudging her into an upright position as though they were solid enough to support her. She could hear hissing, humming, and buzzing, but she could not see the sources of these eerie sounds which came from everywhere all at once. There was no shape or form to the world around her, yet the darkness distorted itself, and personified itself. It was curious and cunning, creeping forth as it seeped into the mind, strangling and suffocating thoughts, then smuggling such outside the shelter of the self. Monica could feel the slow shattering of her sanity, sundered and divided amongst the unseen.
The darkness became more and more languid as it devoured her, a sluggish gluttony that she could not fight against as frosty pain mingled with senseless fear caused her to ceaselessly spasm and shiver. There was no light, it seemed. There was no way to witness the passage of time, and so it felt like an eternity of torture, blind and alone in this dark and desolate realm that was the result of her efforts towards saving those she loved. Not knowing whether she had succeeded in her endeavor inflicted the most devastating damage to her heart, more brutal than being lost in darkness and torn apart. Monica cried, as more and more of her shape became blackened and she sensed the terrifying presence of something looming over her.
The clamor quieted, the hissing and buzzing all around hurried away, the horde of dissonant whispers abated by the immense dreadful aura that had now arrived. Monica awaited with held breath, attempting to discern what was happening through her hearing: Discrete clicks and clacks of numerous small skeletal feet scuttling about upon stone. The freezing air seemed to crack and hiss as an unseen vapor coalesced into ice only to break into tiny fragments upon becoming too large to sustain itself. Far away was the continual sound of rushing water, splashing against stone and crashing down ravines and along rivers. Unfortunately the colossus lingering close to her had become silent and still, undetectable to all of her senses.
Then she heard a voice, soft and soothing, as she was cradled in the gentle grasp of a giant creature, and carried away. She could not see that which held her, lifting her higher and higher until it came to a halt again, but she could feel its strength and sensed a connection to it as it murmured to her that she was found, and no longer alone. Together they traversed the umbral realm, through the oppressive darkness and hungry shadows, swift and silent like a specter in the night. Monica was aware they were traveling towards the node she had touched, the conduit of immense divine power that allowed a deity to shape and alter the land.
Upon reaching the location of the node, Monica saw the path of light that passed through the node itself, made of shimmering stones that were becoming stained with specks of black. It was evident that Benea had come through this way, surviving the encounter with the monstrosity and the following journey afterward, and though Monica could not discern which way Benea had gone, the sight of the luminous road brought forth an incredible amount of relief to her knowing now that her companion lived. Certain that Benea would return to find her, Monica thought it would be wisest to simply wait for either Benea, Xavior, or another to eventually appear and inform her of the most recent happenings in the world.
The giant ghost laid her upon the node itself, letting Monica see the silhouette of its hand. Tenderly placed down, Monica noticed that the parts of her body that had been consumed by shadows were regurgitated when the hand retracted, as if she were shedding a black layer to reveal her previous self underneath, whole and not molested, only harmed through her own foolish incident. She did not know how much time had passed, but her body had begun healing, her wings and arms mending themselves slowly but surely, and all throughout that time the unseen colossus remained nearby. They had spoken more, but both of them were rather reticent, and little was said. Monica had introduced herself, and expressed her gratitude. The colossus had introduced itself as The Shepherd of Shadows, and then it sang a sorrowful song that had lulled her into a peaceful slumber.
Monica awakes in isolation, suffering from her severe injuries and a frightening environment. As her mind is on the verge of madness, she is saved by a dark giant and brought to the node where she safely rests and recovers, awaiting the arrival of anyone else.
Monica expends 5 Might to create The Shepherd of Shadows. A massive creature that dwells in the “darkness” created by Umbrium, it possesses the unique ability of suppressing sound around it, and acts as the living embodiment of Umbrium itself, granted sentience though the power of Monica.
Monica’s remaining Might: 0
A depiction of what the Shepherd of Shadows is thought to look like...
Within the Divine Palace, a brief battle had raged fiercely through the opulent halls wherein the Protector of the Vestibule, Tlanextic, fought with immense strength and magic to hinder the passage of the crimson-veiled goddess, Homura, for she trespassed now in this sacred realm. There were no proper summons, no announcements, no warning at all of her sudden arrival and a proclamation that she would see His Imperial Majesty at once, however her intrusion would have to be addressed first before any meeting with the Monarch of all could be arranged, so the brightly burning Tlanextic barred her passage and requested an immediate explanation. Swiftly words between them had shifted to combat, and Homura continued her disruption of peace in the heavenly palace as she began to besiege the home of the Monarch.
Though the great Head of the Palace Guard was mighty, having slain terrible demons and created the most powerful empire of mortals found on the Galbar, his attacks and spells did no harm to Homura who loudly called out to the Monarch of All, demanding an audience. She simply strode forth through the waves of magical energy which dispersed all around her, and she deftly deflected all of his strikes with a single hand, pushing him away with ease. Their conflict had reached deeper into the halls of the palace, steadily approaching the throne room where the Monarch of All could be found, and then Homura altered her aggression towards Tlanextic, engaging him directly.
She carried no weapons or artifacts with her, and her visage remained concealed behind her shroud, but she shone with a haunting aura that felt akin to the foul presence of the fiends Tlanextic had fought when he was alive, and the pressure of that aura pushed him like the weight of world itself. He had vanquished such vile foes before, so he would do so again. The immortal warrior-king surged forward once more, like a miniature sun unleashing effulgent and righteous retribution, ready to strike with all of his gathered divine might and fury, but before his blow could land upon her, his form; the shape of his soul, what remnants of his existence had vanished, and then Tlanextic was no more. Afterwards, Homura turned her attention back to the colossal door which would lead into the throne room, where the Monarch of All would await her.
Having been spending some time idle in the palace, Ruina was able to sense the newly arrived presence of Homura easily, and Homura could likely sense her as well. This did not matter, at least not immediately, until Homura entered into a one-sided combat with one of the guardians that had been placed around the palace. This conflict brought many questions to Ruina’s mind. They had never bothered her during her frequent visits to the palace, so why now did one engage Homura? Was it possible that she was now considered a threat to The Monarch of All? To the rest of the divines? Was this another scheme of Iqelis? The two were not on the best of terms as far as Ruina knew, and perhaps Iqelis had spread a rumor that Homura was going to do something? These questions demanded answers, and Ruina would find them.
As Tlanextic was vanquished Homura would feel a presence bring itself behind her. A distinct voice called out towards the goddess of honor with a loaded question. ”I would question what brings one to destroy the guardians of the palace. I have never had one confront me so during my visits so why do they now confront you, Homura? Do you come with fire and war, or is there more at play here?”
Ruina stepped gently into the hall before the grand door of the throne room, folding her arms across her chest as she waited for an answer. Ruina’s tail flicked idly side to side, providing a more visual indication to her impatience regarding an answer from Homura.
“I have always been Fire and War, yet I do not come to bring destruction. It is the Monarch of All whom must answer for His crimes. Indeed, it is for the sake of peace that I march upon the palace now… I have no desire to quarrel with you, sister.” Homura replied, coming closer to Ruina, with neither hostile intent or friendly warmth - her voice was impassive yet instilled with resonating otherworldly power, and her face remained obscured behind the blood-red veil she wore. At such a close proximity, Ruina could sense that something was missing… Homura no longer carried the shard of Honor, or any shard.
Ruina’s eyes narrowed a bit at the otherworldly power that resonated throughout Homura’s voice. Something was at play, for sure. But this was not Iqelis, not unless things had changed dramatically when she had not been looking. Homura had been in contact with something… Else. And then there was the matter of the new veil that Homura wore, along with the fact that her shard of Honor was now missing. To say that Ruina was concerned was an understatement.
In fact, the feeling that she had now was one that she had only felt once before, in the brief time she had been mangled and left for dead by her sister. A sense of anxiety gripped Ruina, though she hid it well. What had Homura done? What had been done to Homura? Something was wrong… Very wrong.
Ruina’s suit prickled with anticipation as she spoke again, her tail ceasing its impatient swaying and instead bracing itself. Muscles coiled to strike or to defend, whatever was needed. This otherness wasn’t something Ruina found herself fond of. Speaking firmly to assure herself of her prowess, Ruina probed the being before her for answers. ”You call me Sister and take upon the form of Homura, but I sense no shard upon you, and you conceal yourself with this veil of crimson. Who are you? What have you done? Or if it is still truly you, what has been done to you, Homura? And if you truly seek to come in peace, why is it that you are confronted by the guardians here? And along with this, what crimes do you speak of? I have neither witnessed nor heard of any such thing.”
It took an immense amount of effort for Ruina to not bring forth her blades, but the temptation to arm herself was quite strong. It would at least be reassuring, if not effective.
“I have touched upon the truth and uncovered the treachery of our hollow Lord, He who seats Himself upon a throne that does not belong to Him. I am Anath Homura, and I shall bring salvation to the Galbar and its denizens.” Homura proclaimed, gesturing with her arms and hands outstretched. “Would you walk beside me upon the Sacred Path, sister, or must I restrain you as well? Though… it would grieve me, to do so.” She asked, letting her arms drop back down to her sides.
Ruina’s eyes had relaxed some in the few moments since she had spoken but now, as Homura talked about having touched upon the truth, they hardened once more. Anath Homura? So something had been done… At the mention of being restrained Ruina felt a chord of violence awaken in her soul. Restrain the incarnation of destruction? The one being who could sunder all before her with impunity? That was surely something that would be impossible…
But Ruina’s reason tempered her violence. Homura had been changed, and whatever had been done might be something that even she could not contend with. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps allowing violence to be her answer would not be wise, but still something tugged at her mind. Why the deception of this veil? Ruina pressed for an answer. ”It is within my instincts to resist and bite back at the idea of being restrained, but my reason tells me that even though I can sunder any and all before me with impunity that whatever has been done to you would grant you some form of advantage against even my capabilities. Very well, I will walk with you to hear your arguments, but I would pose a question that demands an answer: Why this veil? What secrets does your form now hold? If you wish for me to believe your so-called truths then I would know what has been done to render you this way.”
“Hmm… I apologize, this veil conceals my presence from the gaze of our empty Lord. It is necessary in order to approach Him. Know that I have spoken with our Lord’s Elder Brother, and I witnessed the truth with my own eyes, felt it in my own heart. The Galbar will face annihilation if the Monarch’s reign does not come to an end. There is much that must be done, and little time, for our enemies would encroach upon us even now. I would like to believe that there are a few among my kin that would stand with me against this threat.” Homura answered, stepping closer and closer to Ruina without halting. The veiled goddess made no move to defend herself, merely striding forward either into her sister or around her - it seemed the choice belonged to Ruina.
As Homura explained what had happened, Ruina’s mind churned as she considered what was being said. Perhaps there was something to what Homura was saying? At the very least, if there was to be a threat to Galbar she wanted to be ready to defend it. Resigning herself to listen and observe what happened within the throne room, Ruina nodded.
But as Homura made to walk past her, Ruina brought a hand to rest firmly upon the goddesses shoulder. Kneeling down so that she was at a closer level to Homura, Ruina spoke firmly. ”I will hear this out for the sake of being able to rise in defense of Galbar, for there can be no tests if there is nothing to test. But I ask of you an oath bound by blood.”
Ruina would hold up her left hand, palm up, and willed a small spike to grow within the middle of her palm. It wouldn’t be more than a minor flesh wound, but blood would be drawn regardless, and that would be enough. ”If what you say is true, and He has been deceiving us all, I will stand aside and allow you to do as you must… But no deception. No misguidance. The truth, at least to me, from now on. Do you agree?”
Homura placed her hand upon the spike, and Ruina could see that the appendage was already wrapped in bloodstained ribbons, as the small spike pierced Homura’s palm and soaked itself in divine ichor. “I agree, and so bind myself to this oath by blood, I will not deceive you.”
As the handshake occured, Ruina could not help but notice the bandages covering Homura’s hands. What had been done? Many questions rolled in her mind, but the answers would not be gained here. They lay inward, and so Ruina rose to her feet, stepping behind Homura and waiting to see what happened within the throne room.
—
The monolithic doors opened to reveal the resplendent glory of the throne room wherein the Monarch of All rested upon His throne, watching as Homura entered, followed by Ruina. A myriad of colors emanated from the great crystalline wound from which the dazzling shards all coalesced and gathered in, providing a prismatic source of light that illuminated the entirety of their surroundings, yet their rainbow radiance was dwarfed by the blank canvas that was the Monarch’s face, desolate aside from two glowing orbs that peered at the two goddess which seemed diminutive in comparison.
“You once asked me if I understood that some mortals would wish to cast themselves away from your gaze forever, to live in the dark wallowing in their own desires. I believed it was malicious machinations from an external evil, but I was wrong. I thought the beauty of light and all life came from you, my Maker, but I was wrong. I thought that you would give us purpose, and that we could be united by such purpose, but I was wrong. You have misled us, Throne-Thief and Usurper, and you have allowed us to succumb to despair! Let there be no more lies! Speak now and know that you are being judged.” Homura announced, shedding her veil and revealing herself.
Her appearance had changed very little, only one eye had altered its color; becoming entirely black like an obsidian embedded where her eye had been. It was what she carried with her that caused the Monarch of All to exude an aura of anger far greater than what any among the Divine had seen before. Homura possessed the shards of Honor, Earth, Crafting, and the Soul, and all four shards had been influenced by some otherworldly power that had tainted them. The red goddess also wielded four potent artifacts held in ethereal limbs that sprouted from her back: Daybringer; her familiar golden spear, a hefty steel sword with a ruby set in the blade, an ornate shield of silver and sapphire, and a burning brazier in which a miniscule six-winged creature dwelt.
“So you have betrayed me… Homura.” The Monarch said, His deep and echoing voice stirring the entirety of the celestial palace as though waking it from a slumber. The gargantuan form of the Monarch of All arose from His seat, but before He could speak further or act, Homura thrust out with Daybringer and the golden spear extended forth and flew around the vast perimeter of the throne room, the length of the weapon alit with radiant flames and transforming into chains that completely enclosed the hall and prevented any attempts at escape. “And you dare to defy me! To judge me! To insult me!” The Lord of Creation shouted, creating fissures in the floor beneath their feet and across the walls around them with His thunderous voice. The Monarch of All stood enraged, yet He did not attack.
“You imprisoned your brother after you betrayed Him! You stole all of His shards, and claimed lordship over Creation with devilish deceit, and arranged alliances with the perverse and profane! What were you promised in exchange? How much time were you given to stroke your ego and call yourself the Emperor of Reality before the inevitable demise of everything in this world comes for us? It sickens me; you whom would be our executioner for the sake of your own vanity!” Homura rebuked, her whole body becoming engulfed in flames as her true form began to free itself from her material vessel and she became a colossal fire burning before the Monarch of All, thousands of spears rising from the depths of her spirit and poised to strike.
The Monarch of All did not cower, and rather turned His attention to the goddess in the back. “Ruina, see how my slanderous servant has deluded herself and now attempts to pathetically intimidate me, I ask that you dispose of her now. Destroy her, and end this farce.” His request, no, His command reached Ruina over the cacophony of the roaring, hissing, cackling fire that was Anath Homura - He spoke firm and calmly with complete clarity, serene and imbued with regal authority - unbothered by his predicament. To handle such an irksome hassle was beneath Him, delegating the duty to the Goddess of Destruction instead.
As she was addressed, Ruina remained silent. Once again she was being put to the test, and what a test it was. Loyalty or Truth? But what if the truth was a lie? What if her loyalty was a lie? What if everything was true? What if nothing was? Was she just being used as a pawn? Ruina clenched her fists in frustration. There was no way to know what was true or what was false among the many layers that were present here.
Ruina’s base instincts wanted to erupt. To look at the chessboard with disdain and disgust before smashing it all to bits. Then the game would be over, and no one would ever attempt to use her as a pawn again. But her rationality disagreed. These things that Homura spoke of surely had to come from somewhere? Why spend so much time weaving a story of brothers and betrayal for a simple coup attempt?
And further than that, if Homura was indeed lying, how would she have gained the otherworldly power she possessed? Did that itself not come from somewhere? There were so many things that demanded answers… And only one who could give them. Finally, Ruina spoke. ”There are many things that I do not know, and for each of these things an answer is demanded. What is this brother that is spoken of? What is this inevitable demise? Where would Homura have gone to acquire this power she now has? What secrets have you kept? I have a blood oath from Homura that there will be no deception placed upon me, but from you I do not have the same. I want truth and answers, only then will my loyalty be truly found.”
Ruina affixed her gaze to The Monarch, waiting to see what would come from her demand. As she waited, she summoned her power. It was nothing in the face of The Monarch, but Ruina would choose to be defiant nonetheless. Still, it was an impressive amount she was able to muster. It had been so long since she had expended effort that her reserves of divine vigor were some of the largest among the deities. Large enough that perhaps even The Monarch might be given pause in the face of Ruina’s willingness to shatter the fabric of reality in defiance of her own demise, should it come to that.
“I find your lack of faith… disturbing, little destroyer. I expected more from you. This doubt you possess displeases me, as I expected everlasting loyalty when you said you would do your best to satisfy my desires, my will, my decree. Aid me now, and you will receive the answers you seek. Fail me, and I shall take back all that I have given you.” The Monarch of All said, clasping all four his hands before him, and watching with His keen gaze that bore intensely into the Goddess of Destruction. Though he concealed his wrath with his controlled voice and stoic stance, the air simmered hot with cosmic rage, threatening to set everything all around aflame.
“Sister… We may not have much time left. If we do not strike now, He will only gain more power to defend Himself, and neither of us may survive the aftermath. I can seal him now, and we can question Him later.” Homura forewarned, a hint of impatience and apprehension in her voice as the colossal flame flickered back and forth while the four artifacts and multitude of serpentine spears levitated anxiously awaiting whatever would come next. Her words evoked a pulse of otherworldly power from the Monarch as He began channeling the strength of the shards within Him. Slowly the crystallizations of different aspects drifted out from the great wound, humming and quivering as they arranged themselves into an intricate formation before the Monarch.
Ruina was silent once more as her loyalty was pressured. Raising a hand, she held aloft an orb of raw destruction to gaze into its deep red core. For a few moments Ruina was still, seemingly entranced by the core of her orb. In truth, she thought to herself that something was wrong. If The Monarch could explain everything with Homura gone, why could He not explain everything with Homura present? What if the explanation caused Homura to stop her efforts altogether? What if he explained that Homura was correct? Why then would he only explain once Homura was destroyed?
The Monarch’s lack of an answer was more telling than any answer he could’ve given. Ruina focused now, using her seeming trance as a front, and easily found the stream of power that was flowing into The Monarch. It was a beautiful river of pure energy. There was so much that Ruina could do if she possessed even a faction of it… But what she could do now was disrupt it.
Viewing the river of power flowing into The Monarch through her orb, Ruina gripped it with a shocking intensity, and The Monarch would feel this river of power shatter like glass. This would only ever be a temporary disruption, but still. Ruina had managed to give Homura a moment, and perhaps that would be all she needed.
The effects of such an expense were felt by more than just The Monarch. Red lightning crackled across the surface of Ruina’s suit, and the floor beneath her feet cracked as the wave of energy reached it, kicking up a notable cloud of dust and pebbles as a gust of wind blew outward from Ruina.
Shouting, Ruina informed Homura of what she had done. ”Homura! Go! I have stopped his flow of power, even if only for a moment! Seize this chance!”
Releasing the broken orb of destruction from her hand, Ruina allowed it to crumble into dust. Taking another moment, she removed the artifact that The Monarch had given her so long ago. The circlet of vision was useful for observing Galbar but for now she had no need of it, and it provided too useful a vector for The Monarch to latch onto her. Thus, it was tossed aside, clattering to the floor without much fanfare.
“You shall suffer the consequences of your betrayal!” The Monarch of All began, attempting to regain his strength, severely weakened after such a devastating attack to the power he wielded.
There had been no elaboration to how Homura would seal the Monarch, only her prior words which conveyed the urgency at that time, but now the red goddess acted upon Ruina’s shout, as she surged forward with the large sword thrusting it into the Monarch’s chest beside the wound containing all of the shimmering shards. He had been weakened and vulnerable, and dealt a fatal blow which caused Him to stagger backwards like a toppled mountain. All of the dancing inferno that was Homura crashed into Him as well, leaving lingering burns across His body and trails a fire that formed patterns like glyphs upon His shape. The immense sword remained left in His torn torso while Homura herself retreated and reformed into her mortal visage beside Ruina with a pensive look.
“I have not slain our heartless Lord, for I am still loyal to Him in the end. He is now trapped here, incapable of harnessing His power or leaving this place lest He succumb to His injuries and perishes. I am also grateful for your aid, sister, as we were able to preserve the palace, mostly.” Homura explained, recalling Daybringer into its standard small spear shape which she held in one hand, while another held onto the ornate silver shield. A combination of relief and fatigue was visible in her scarlet eyes as she looked at Ruina, as though ascertaining how to further explain what comes next in a concise manner. “We can consider this a victory, yet as I have said before, there remains much to do if we are to prevent the annihilation of the Galbar. The war has only begun, and we must unite our Lord and His brother before the end, if we wish to win. I have further need of you, Ruina. Will you continue your role as She Whom Tests, for we must become stronger in order to survive the coming season of strife.”
Ruina stood silently for a moment before nodding and answering. ”I am, and will always be, She Who Tests and The Lady of Pain. I will lend my aid as I am required.”
Ruina took a moment to move over to where the circlet she had discarded had fallen, and moved to pick it back up. Though just before her fingers made contact there was a moment of hesitation. Perhaps caution should be observed? Ruina used a minor speck of power to hoist it and have the circlet hover nearby. Perhaps later it would adorn her head again, but for right now it would remain separate from her.
Returning to Homura, Ruina posed another question. ”Though I wish for an explanation: Why has your form been scarred so? Your eye is gone, and your arms are bandaged. Do you need time to heal? Or is this just how you are now? And where did you get all of the shards from? Have our other brothers and sisters been slain in secrecy?”
Folding her arms, Ruina waited to see what Homura would say. In truth, this itself was a test: Would Homura remember the oath made just moments before, or would she prove that such an oath was only made to gain Ruina’s trust?
“I have been afflicted with an ailment known as the stigma. That is why my body is breaking apart and rusting away even as we speak now. I sacrificed my eye to our Lord’s brother, allowing me to commune with Him and access a fragment of His power. No amount of time shall cure my affliction, and this is how I am now until the symptoms gradually worsen and the stigma kills me. Lastly, I have acquired the shards from her catatonic kin, those whom also suffer from the stigma. You are fortunate you have been spared so far, though that likely originates from your limited interactions with other deities. I have seen it manifest in a myriad of ways though, some more subtle than scars. I digress, we must summon our kin.” Homura answered in a lengthy explanation, as she removed the ribbons that covered her hands, showing the skin marred by decaying flesh, blackened as though it had been terribly burnt.
Ruina’s eyes widened at the revelation of Homura’s decaying limbs. Frowning, Ruina nodded at the answer before speaking again. ”This curse… I lack the words to express my sympathies and condolences. Given what I can do, I will see if there is a way for me to erase this plague from existence, or at least buy you more time.”
There was an instinct to place a reassuring hand on Homura, but another instinct blocked her from touching the goddess. Instead she asked another question, thinking back to the handshake that they had shared a few moments ago. ”How does it spread? Just from being in close contact, or is there more?”
“Fortunately, it is not physical contact that seems to spread such an affliction... I am afraid I do not have a complete answer, I only know that the symptoms worsen when we fight among ourselves and alienate each other. It seems despair or ennui is the most common characteristic in those that are afflicted, aside from myself. I suppose we will find out more depending on how many of our kin heed the summons to the palace. When we determine a means of restraining our Lord while we work without leaving Him in His current state, perhaps we could ask Him. I have reason to believe He knows the cause.” Homura replied, marching towards the colossal form of the Monarch as He struggled just to breathe, still impaled by Homura’s blade.
She stepped over and leapt across the cracks and crevices that had spread throughout the throne room, before she came to halt beside the fallen king. Homura looked over her shoulder and spoke again. “Will you remain here and wait with me for the others, or will you begin testing the mortals for the hardships to come?” She inquired, seeming so small and insignificant before the immobilized Monarch left choking on His blood, yet tapping into His power and already calling forth the energy to make her voice heard across the world, she seemed to cling onto some significant simulacrum of strength.
Ruina’s answer came easily. ”I will wait here with you for the others. The mortals will be tested in time, but I would not want our efforts to be undone if there is trickery at play.”
Homura nodded, a slight smile appearing for a second on her face, before she closed her one red eye and concentrated on the spell that would send her voice across the cosmos. “Gods and goddesses of the Galbar, you are summoned to the divine palace! Come and seek the truth! Come and seek salvation! Soon, fiends will encircle our world, and so we must fight against them! War has arrived and warriors must answer the calling, lest our home be ravaged by evil. The cycle begins anew, so come to the palace to claim your vigor and your strength!” Her words echoed throughout the threads of reality, heard across all of the Galbar and even the void beyond. She hoped history would remember her words as a defiant rallying cry against annihilation as opposed to the last hopeless cry of one among the inevitably doomed.
Homura appears in the divine palace and defeats its guardian, Tlanextic, before pressing onward to the doors before the throne room where she encounters Ruina. Ruina asks why Homura has brought violence to the palace, and Homura explains that the Monarch has been deceiving the rest of the pantheon and He needs to be stopped before the world comes to an end. Ruina makes Homura swear to be honest in a blood-oath, and the two enter the throne room to confront the Monarch of All.
Homura reveals that she has aligned herself with the Monarch’s elder brother, and Ruina offers her aid in defeating the Monarch of All after His answers regarding the truth do not appease her. Afterwards, Homura binds the fallen Monarch with a spell and Warbreaker, then calls upon the Divine to come to the palace and prepare for a new war. A new cycle begins, and a new system shall rise to replace the old.
Ruina starting: 21 Expenditures: 10 - Block TMoA’s power up. End total: 11.
I was thinking that king Hanequin is captured by the emperor's forces, coercing Saoirse into surrendering and allowing for interaction between the king and emperor again. What do you guys think?
A cool, moonlit night watched over the plains. There was a chill in the air, but the Lion didn’t shiver.
Tall grass rustled gently all around. That was just the wind; the Lion crept silently through the growth, so quiet that his breaths were softer than the gentlest of sighs. Others followed close behind and low to the ground… advancing up even this little mound took the better part of two hours, but the lookouts never saw them coming.
Above the maramoda den, there were small holes gouged into the ground. That was how the beasts got air and circulation through their warrens even when the entrances were firmly shut. When the nights grew too cold or the rains came and gave the earth a chilling damp, they sometimes lit fires down there, and these holes likewise let out smoke. But this was a fireless, smokeless night just as they’d counted on.
As quietly as they could, one of the warriors took out a few hot embers from a small hide pouch, pressed them against an unlit torch, and blew. Once the fire had started, they quickly lit the other torches, and then (before they were discovered by the weary sentries!) they squeezed down the air holes, barely fitting through and halfway collapsing one or two of them, and then they fell into the warren with soft thuds. Even while under attack in the dead of night, the maramoda were disciplined enough in their convictions to not cry out or make any sound louder than a sharp whisper, but that was their own stupidity. Grunts, gurgled, and muffled gasps of pain followed as the human attackers poured through the labyrinthine tunnels and began massacring the sleeping and dazed maramoda.
Atash the Lion only broke his silence when he came before the greatest den and beheld a hulking brute in the torchlight, the maramoda gripping a spear in one hand and a club in the other. Atash had only his one spear for his other hand held the torch – without its light, he would stand no chance of fighting these rats inside their own tunnels – but he still met the challenge with a ferocious roar that seemed to shake the tunnels. It could have woken a sleeping god, if the gods truly did sleep. It could have woken the whole tribe of warriors, if the freshly slain could be roused from their slumber.
Instead the sound only drove that brute into a wild frenzy. He lunged forward with his spear and his body barreled forward not far behind the point of the spear even as Atash leaped to the side. The cramped tunnels left little room for evasion or maneuvering. A crazed close-quarters swing of the barbarian’s club almost cracked the Lion’s skull as he ducked down to barely dodge it. As Atash tried to adjust his grip on the spear to hold it further up so that its length wouldn’t be such a hindrance in the cramped duel, the end of its haft brushed against the earthen wall. There was no space!
A quick swing of the club caught him on the shoulder and fiery pain radiated through the whole of his arm, though he hardly felt or registered it in the moment. The maramoda drew back his own short spear and tried to ram it through Atash’s chest, only for the human to wave the torch in his snarling face and blind his night-eyes with the brightness, heat, and smoke. With his spear thrust into the wall with enough force to make quickly pulling it out futile, the maramoda abandoned it and spun around to face his adversary.
“I am Harga Flat-tooth,” the brute spat in a panting whisper, “and I will silence you!”
Atash bellowed and cackled from where he’d darted down the tunnel. “Your tribesmen sleep with your god now, forever. The dirt drinks their blood. I am the Lion of the Night, and I swear that before you die, you shall scream!”
Their duel was a vicious one. Orange glows and echoing shouts came from tunnels back behind where Atash’s human warriors continued their butchery, while the tunnel behind Harga had a thick door from which came the faintest sounds of mewling… the nursery.
The fevered barbarian struck a glancing blow upon Atash’s ribs with that big club of his, but even as the Lion fell down to gasp his spear shot forth at his foe’s legs like a striking snake, and its point bit into the meat of a calf. Harga winced and tried to grab at the haft of the spear, but Atash brought it back too quickly and then lunged again. This time he missed, and when Harga exploited the chance to stumble forward on his wounded leg and close the distance, he brought the club down towards the Lion’s open head. Atash swung his torch and barely deflected the blow, but then the light sputtered into nothingness as the fiery brand was knocked out of his hand and sent rolling across the dirt floor.
Darkness. But they had fought for long enough that the maramoda’s eyes had likewise grown accustomed to the torchlight, and though they would quickly adjust again, Atash still had at least a few moments to find his bearings before he would be doomed.
He scurried in a random direction to create space, then slowed his breathing even as he was exhausted. Oh, if only he could also slow his heart – it pounded like a drum, loud enough to betray his place if the maramoda’s sensitive ears could discern its sound among the tumult coming from further down.
From a short distance away in the darkness, Atash thought he just barely heard the maramoda chortle. They both knew that he was almost certainly finished now. Thoughts raced through his mind – perhaps some of his companions would come charging down the tunnel, torches in hand, to his salvation… but they all sounded preoccupied. Still, they surely would at least avenge him.
But then he smelt the stench of iron, though he did not know of iron – the Lion knew it for what it truly was: blood. It was Harga and his bleeding leg, that was what Atash’s gut screamed, and so he trusted in it. With all his might, he gripped his spear in both hinds and blindly pushed it through the thick darkness. Its tip found meaty flesh, and then there was a sharp gasp and the smell of more blood. The club of Harga Flat-tooth fell onto the floor with a soft thud, and Atash roared in triumph as he pushed his impaled enemy onto the ground.
The once-hulking Harga looked frail when his shadow wasn’t so ground, lit as the tunnel was by a dozen torches. Or maybe it was just that he was resting helplessly against the rounded curve where floor met with wall, entrails spilling out of his wound.
They shouted, prodded, and threatened him as they demanded the answers to questions: Where is Garza the Frown? How many warriors fight in his confederation now? Where will he attack next?
Harga laughed at them, spat out one or two last insults, and then bit off his own tongue and spat that out too. Such was the way of the maramoda.
“Start slaying the captives before this chief, then,” the Lion of the Night decreed, and his bloodthirsty warriors were all too eager to knock down the doors of the nursery, the storerooms, and everywhere else where the young, the old, the wives, and the weak had been hiding. One by one, surviving maramoda were dragged into that tunnel and brutalized before him, but he did nothing but glare with defiance and hatred.
Atash grabbed Harga by the hair. Still fighting, the dying brute tried to bite at the Lion’s hand and claw at his chest, but it was futile. “Yes, we know that you can still talk with your hands. So tell us about Garza, or we will flay your children alive.”
Desperation flashed through those beady black eyes for a brief instant, and some choking wail escaped from the chieftain’s throat, distorted as it was by the ruined tongue. There was the screaming that the Lion had promised. There was a pregnant pause, and then Harga offered a few strange gestures and hand-signs, but Atash no longer liked the look in those eyes.
“What did that mean?” one of the warriors sharply demanded from a marawoman. When she gasped and didn’t answer quick enough, she was struck by the blunted end of a spear. “He curses you, and says that you will learn nothing from him, for we are all already dead,” she half cried, half whispered.
Atash answered with an enraged roar that made them all wince in terror, but no sleeping god woke up at the sound and came to save the maramoda from his wrath.
---
It wasn’t long before they found where Garza the Frown had been. Atash and his warband had ventured far to the west, deep into maramoda territory, seeking to find the demon who had united all the disparate bickering tribes against mankind and led the most vicious of their campaigns. If they had found and slain him in his hole rather than that petty chieftain Harga, perhaps the war could have been over if no other warlord rose up to fill that void, but by sheer coincidence Garza had been ranging far away on some attempt to bring yet more tribes into the fold.
When news spread, he had quickly turned around and brought his band back to defend his allies, but the local maramoda had not been idle while Atash rampaged through their lands either. Some other brute of a chieftain had assembled his own host and began trailing after the marauding humans, so now they were trapped, encircled in unknown and enemy territory with two warbands coming to soon combine and then finish them off.
Some suggested that they try to move by night and cover of darkness to make it back to their own lands, but they were too distant now, and so Atash had instead ordered them to quickly occupy a place where there were some rolling hills bestride a small stream that cut through the otherwise flat grasslands. Atop the steepest of those small rises they made camp; that was the most advantageous place they could make a stand, and they would need every advantage and good fortune besides to have any hope at all. They were perhaps outnumbered three or four to one, the Lion reckoned.
“The moon goddess has led us to this place,” Atash the Night-Lion proclaimed to his warriors, “And the Great Sun decrees that we fight and water the grass with blood. So it shall be! Sharpen your spears! The beasts are coming, but we are not afraid – let them fear us and learn to cower in their silent holes!”
Then came the arrival of the dawn, earlier than expected and accompanied by a cascading wave of euphonious music filling a brightening sky now painted with a myriad of colors. Rivers of light danced in rhythm to a great and tremendous melody that thundered across the lands, and was the only warning before three titans suddenly appeared in the sky, led by a shimmering streak that became a bejeweled vessel with four fiery haired girls standing upon the prow looking down upon those that kept to the earth.
Spectacular as that sight was, it didn’t entrance the men on that hill so thoroughly that they failed to witness the great hordes of maramoda. Hundreds of the beasts had been approaching the high ground under cover of night and dead silence, but when this divine radiance burnt away the darkness, they were left to just simmer, covering their ears at the unholy din and cursing the sky-demons with every obscene gesture that their fingers could contort into.
The three titans danced languidly in the sky - their immense shapes seemed untethered to the weight of the world, unfazed by the wind or any known weather, as those that descended from the heavens were beyond mortal phenomena. The two stone-covered, metallic colossi were each the size of a mountain, and each had another burning maiden standing atop their crowns. The third giant was larger than the other two combined, possessing six vast wings and covered in scales and feathers as opposed to rock and metal. They reared their legs and beat their wings as the otherworldly song was heard throughout the rolling hills and the far away plains.
“I am Anath Homura, Goddess of War, and I have come to test the mettle of those that wish to become true warriors!” An echoing voice called out from everywhere at once, shaking the world with its power and authority. “Cease this farce of a conflict, and gather before me! Else, know the ire of the Divine, She Who Carries the Radiant Flames of Heaven!” Homura proclaimed, and the water of the nearby steam became red like blood, and arose like steps leading towards a great glittering platform of silver and gold that had manifested.
The souls who glowed brightest, leaders of each pack in the knotted fray, heard her words. Unlike those around them, however, they found their resistance lowered. Homura was not magically compelling other than her Divine might, but nonetheless, those who might otherwise have foolishly resisted found themselves persuaded. A small musical note, beyond the reaches of mortal hearing, in each of their ears. Why should they fight and die? War is hell, and the intervention of a Goddess of War to solve their conflict in an orderly and honorable fashion could only be good.
Desire sagged, exhausted by her workings. Never had she used her aspect so quickly on so many individuals. Looking at her sisters, she flashed a weak thumbs up, the signal that she had done her part. The plan could proceed and the mortals should listen to reason, logic, and Honor. As Desire looked away, however, Wanderer saw a flash of green among the red. The kind of tell that one would miss by blinking. But Homura’s champion was a cut above mere mortals and did not blink.
Without further word, Courage and her Reflection leapt from Skydancer, falling from the sky - a height that no man could survive - and alighted gracefully upon the platform where they stood on the edges and peered out towards the men encamped upon the hill, and the horde that had been approaching. Courage II strode to the point where the red waters reached them, and began walking down the crimson steps, as though the water were earth beneath her feet. As she descended, she beckoned to those closest to her, the humans upon the hill, inviting them with open arms and a warm smile, though strange were the swirling markings upon her skin that acted as though they were alive.
Silence.
“We do not know you, Anath Homura, or any of the rest of you,” one of the impious warriors eventually stated. No vitriol hid in those words, but it was the plain truth. The Great Sun, the Watching Moon, and the occasional tales of the River Spirit or Voligan the Earthheart dwelled within the minds and hearts of Nalusites, but they knew nothing of their maker Homura. Had she not borne the dawn to herald her arrival, they might have questioned whether she could even speak on behalf of that Great Sun that had bid them fight.
“That is why I have come, as the Emissary of our Lords, the Kings in Heaven, those whom rule over reality. Come forth, Children of the Sun and Moon, and receive enlightenment, or remain blinded by ignorance… Let it be known I shall not allow heresy in my presence to continue.” As the goddess spoke from everywhere and nowhere, massive red pillars slowly emerged from edges of the vast and glistening golden dais, reaching higher and higher until their peaks were close to the three titans suspended in the sky, and the luminous vessel carrying its blazing passengers.
The silver and gold platform continued to swiftly expand, becoming larger and larger until it was extensive enough to easily hold both of the two smaller gigantic creatures. When the expanding of the dais and pillars came to a halt, Skydancer and its entourage descended to the base of the newly created colossal temple wherein the titans occupied the north and southern sections, leaving a spacious center where the soaring vessel finally alighted. The skyborne structure hung between the humans and the majority of the maramodas, suspended higher than the tallest hill, with endless stairs of scarlet water leading up to its central entrance.
With a single leap, Courage flew from where she stood on the first step, and landed among the warriors of the Nalusites. “Walk with me brothers, if you truly wish to live.” She exclaimed with an excited grin, her skin dancing with the marks of sorcery, and her eyes burning with cosmic lucidity. She pointed back towards the temple, to where Courage II on the platform’s precipice was gesturing for them to approach; to climb the beginning steps of ascension. The massive six-winged being that dwelled above roared in response, and its bellow shook the land once more.
Cowed into obeisance by the splendor and awed by the sights, the men did as they were told. One by one they filed towards that temple hewn from magic, mounting the staircase and beginning the long climb. None among them were prophets, for under Atash, the prophets of Kartar’s ilk had been cast down from their revered roles. Still, they did not need the Sight when they could Feel the radiant power… but also the seething rage of all the maramoda around the hillock’s base. This was salvation from what would have been death – glorious but certain death.
Atop the steps, before the site wherein the goddess awaited them. They were greeted by the motionless and eerily silent sentinels that were the two colossi on each side of the entrance, and then by a gathering of six scarlet daughters of the divine whom welcomed them with a mingling of aloof and friendly faces - the bejeweled Skydancer floating just beyond them. As the last of the men reached the dais with plenty of room to move freely, the steps behind them fell back to the earth, severing their connection to the material plane… there would have to be another means of leaving this sacred space.
The daughter wielding the golden spear spoke, and from her came the voice of Anath Homura. “Who among you leads? Who among you wishes to wield the blade and become royalty? Who among you is worthy?” The fiery maiden asked, approaching them with blazing eyes and otherworldly grace, their minds touched with the unknown and profound by her mere presence.
Atash knew not what a blade was, but he understood what it meant to lead, and certainly had ideas about what made a man worthy. “I have led warriors across rivers, through the high grass, and into the depths of maramoda lairs. None are stronger than I!”
“Tell me then, why do your people continually clash with those that now seek your demise? The creatures outside this temple would have overrun you and your brothers, had I not intervened.” She directly addressed Atash, voice and visage burning like a hot flame as she came near, yet his skin was never seared. Her eyes then glittered like inquisitive rubies where he could see his reflection watching him, as the voice and avatar of Anath Homura received its answer in the next breath.
“We have hunted them in their own lands for weeks and overran many of their lairs. Never has my band been scattered! Who are you, of little faith, to say that we would have been scattered? Have you the Sight of the moon? I say that were the darkness not peeled back, then in the night I would have found Garza and smote him with mine own hand, and so won this war.”
With a flick of her hand, she lifted Atash into the air and slowly spun him around, letting all of those gathered around to observe him from every angle. “By your own hand, hmm…” She murmured, as she held out her own hand and pulled upon his limbs with unseen forces. Splashes of scarlet energy spread along the Nalusite, as his hand was severed from the rest of him and brought to the maiden where she carefully examined it. Despite the loss of his hand, no blood or viscera seeped from the fleshy stump at the end of his arm, while he remained suspended and silenced above his companions.
“Water and wind and earth melded so freely together, miring the flames. How grotesque. I am curious, I do not know this Garza, but the true enemies beyond this temple cannot be slain with your meager strength and weak weapons. You are losing this war, and I find that I cannot simply watch from afar as my creations are led astray.” Homura remarked before returning the thoroughly studied hand back to Atash, reattaching the appendage where it belonged and lowering the man back to the floor.
“You are not winning, and have yet to prove you are worthy of leadership. I wish for you to become true warriors, and that requires you to train yourselves further, to transcend your limitations. This farce with the maramoda wastes time and effort. I shall end it, and discipline both sides for this mockery in view of the Divine.” As she spoke, it began to reverse-rain; bloody droplets rising from all around and ascending towards the heavens where many luminous clouds coalesced and gathered rainrise. Anath Homura strode towards the edge of the temple and stared out across the landscape bloody tears soared skyward while the earth wept.
“Courage and Desire. Bring me the leader of the maramoda, and any among their number who seek enlightenment.” Homura ordained, and though the men of Nalusa could not see her true veiled form which still stood upon the prow of Skydancer, her two named champions saw past the illusion to the actual location their mother was - where she pointed outwards and awaited for the deliverance of what she asked for.
Desire stood, hopping down and speeding unerringly in the direction of the leader of the maramoda. Courage followed with her, the plan exchanged mentally in mere moments. Though the heavy use of her aspect earlier had taken much out of her, Desire was still a champion of Homura. The two of them could easily locate and persuade any number of mortal creatures, humans or maramoda.
Landing before the maramoda, the mismatched sisters addressed the gathered crowd, voices booming out. “Leader of the maramoda and any of you who seek to walk the Sacred Path! The temple of Anath Homura soars above you! Come forth and be enlightened! Come forth and become more than you are now! Come forth and claim your place beneath the Chosen!”
Green eyes and gold gauntlet flashing, the two stood implacable before the angered masses. Their arrogance stemmed from Divine right, and they bore no heed to the maramodan preference for quiet.
The maramoda recoiled collectively and thrust their heads down, wincing and covering their ears or stuffing them with grass. Between the low groans, pained glances and frenzied gestures coursed through the hordes. The undulating din was just loud enough, and the grass underfoot just dampening enough, that the pounding footsteps of Garza’s charge were muffled until the last second. There was no warcry or bellow as he leapt into the air, club in hand, ready to maul Desire.
Unfortunately for Garza the Frown, Desire was a trained champion of Homura. In the blink of an eye, he was disarmed and facedown in the dirt before her. Not so much as a scratch marred her clothes, nor a single strand of hair astray. “Your leader has fallen! Stop your fight and pledge yourselves to the Sacred Path! There is no victory or honor in senseless bloodshed. Submit to the honorable Path, decide the victor in a better way!”
They hurled stones and sticks and clods of dirt at her in response, even as Garza’s muddied chin broke its characteristic scowl just long enough for him to open his mouth and bite at her ankle. Desire’s sole response was a spine-shattering reverse kick, coupled with a continued glower at the rebellious people before her. Couldn’t they tell that they were being unreasonable?
“Courage, take him back. He shouldn’t cause trouble. I’ll deal with the rest of them.”
Courage and Courage II had preoccupied themselves with attempting to communicate while also striking the myriad of maramoda all around them. They gently poked and prodded their foes with incredible precision, causing many to lose all strength in their limbs, or to just collapse entirely. Wanderer and Wanderer II fired arrows of light aimed to hit nearby their sisters, manifesting into glittering golden chains that entangled the numerous maramoda attempting to encircle those on the ground, though such support seemed unnecessary. The shifting symbols of the Gnosis shielded their skin as they internally cast the Incantation of Warding, and all sharpened stone and wooden spears, along with hurled rocks, simply bounced away from their bodies.
Leaping on the masses, Courage jumped to where Desire was, and lifted the paralyzed Garza above her before making her retreat. In a few swift strides and mighty bounds, she had flown over the horde and soared upwards to where the temple hung above. Courage II made her way to Desire, shoving and pushing maramoda out of her path before coming to a brief halt in front of her sister. “I don't think they're interested in coming with us, ya.” She said as she struck four maramoda in the blink of an eye, and tossed them back beyond those that still assailed them.
“No, I guess not,” Desire agreed, covering Courage’s retreat while following along herself. What a tragedy. An entire people, ungrateful for their creation and refusing to follow in the steps of the Divine. Desire allowed herself another moment of maudlin reflection before putting the maramoda’s plight out of her head for the time being. There was a war to adjudicate, after all, and she was there to learn from the best.
Courage laid out the broken Garza before Skydancer, where both the true veiled visage of Homura stood, as well as the illusion of Anath Homura that the Nalusites saw. The leader of the maramoda found that the pain he felt suddenly vanished, as white light poured forth from the palms of Courage, Wanderer, and Wanderer II, which seeped into him and was accompanied by the sharp and crunchy sounds of his spine being restored. However, now he stood before the self-proclaimed goddess of war, and her small form stared down on him, wielding a golden spear in one hand.
“Why do you continually clash with these men? I see no evil in your eyes… What is your name, one who would oppose me?” Homura inquired, scrutinizing Garza with her piercing gaze.
Not even a goddess could make that baleful glower bend; it was chiseled forever onto Garza’s visage. He pointed at it. She probably still didn’t understand. Loud, idiot of a sky-demon!
He grabbed his upper for emphasis and tugged at it, baring the sight of the yellowed teeth within his maw for a second – ’this is I, the Frown.’
A stubby finger pointed accusingly at her, and then at Atash, and then around in a great big circle – ‘you, you, all of you…’ He held a fist close to his mouth and opened it, splaying the fingers out of his hand and throwing it forward into the air, a few twists and sharp turns mingling with the motion, ’are too damn loud!’
His head tilted and his eyes closed for a moment, then they seemed to burst open with a hatred that wasn’t even half mimery – ’and you will awaken the Magnificent Sleeper!’
Homura held up her hands, gesturing to all of the great and golden pillars that pierced the heavens that she erected with her power. She gestured to herself and then her shape shimmered like water beneath the majestic sun, before becoming translucent, and Garza could see that beneath the surface of her mien, there blazed a primordial flame - for her body was only an illusion and the truth of her form would be too much for any mortal to perceive. Languidly, the flames approached and engulfed the maramoda, before harmlessly passing over him, yet Homura had not moved.
Then she peered away, and held out a hand to the side, gently caressing the nothingness beside her, before stepping back and beginning a swirling stride around where Garza stood, her ethereal motions like the distant sands following the wind along the many ridges of the dune-filled desert, like the light of the receding sun bathing the land in a bloody, feverish, and dreamlike beauty that was the last vestiges of warmth before the coming of the cold night, and so she too left him, and that same coldness descended upon the maramoda.
She came to halt in front of him once more, her eyes closed and her stance very still. When she opened her eyes, tongues of pale flames came out and danced like vipers in the tall grass. Her hand reached out with fingers curled like claws, and surged towards Garza before he could move, and she spoke, but no words came from her lips. Her clawed hand became delicate, fingers straightened outwards and beside each other, as she passed the appendage over her face, and her eyes were returned to their previous state.
The gesticulations were all recondite to Garza, whose frown only seemed to deepen as he snorted. At least she was being quiet now. She paced and forth, contemplating for a moment before she held up a hand and spoke softly. “Your people have been defeated, and are hereby claimed as my prisoners, including yourself. In shadows and silence you will dwell, until I have a reason to bring you back into the light.”
Outside the temple, the land rumbled and churned as a beastial burden was lifted from it - the horde of maramodas no longer rampaged across the earth, instead the entirety of their vast assembly had been lifted into the bloody sky, and held there imprisoned by an unseen power. All of them could do nothing more than flail helplessly, as the immense Phoenix stirred and set forth into the maelstrom of mortals with the thunderous beating of her six wings. The colossal spirit began burning brightly, too intensely vivid for even those that had closed their eyes to possess any protection against being blinded, and then she was among them.
Though they could no longer see, and were deafened by both the otherworldly music and the clamorous presence of Charis, all of the maramodas could feel the Umati as she passed through them and murmured her chthonic melody. She never pushed or tossed any of them, intangible in her true shape, but nonetheless she guided them towards the temple where the two other colossi emerged from, akin to a mother directing her children back to home where their elder siblings awaited.
“I shall bring these slaves back to Keltra. My Heralds; Courage and Desire, I leave you in command of this site. I will return swiftly.” Anath Homura proclaimed, as the glamor of the goddess vanished, and Skydancer carrying the hidden veiled Homura arose into the air. As she spoke, thousands upon thousands of the maramodas fell unconscious and were gently lulled into the two colossi, reminiscent of the times when humanity had been transported in such a manner. Garza himself was levitated upwards, and there was a crack in the air as even the fierce leader among the horde fell into a peaceful slumber, that menacing frown gouged into his face even in sleep.
With grace and fluidity, the two colossi were laden with their captured cargo, and led by both the goddess and the Phoenix back from whence they came. The far reaching heavenly music, and the light of day left with them, leaving the temple and its populace in the quiet of night once again. Courage had gathered with her sisters and the Reflections, speaking telepathically through their bond. “Well, that was easier than expected… I reckon we should speak to our brothers, ya?” Her gaze drifted towards the Nalusites still present as she shared her thoughts.
War rages in western Nalusa where men fight maramoda. Atash the lion and his warriors assail a maramoda den, and emerge victorious. Garza the Frown gathers his much larger number of warriors and marches upon where Atash has positioned his forces, and the two sides are about to engage in a great battle which would certainly lead to the demise of Atash and those with him.
Homura and her heralds arrive on the scene, pulling the humans out before they could die, and explaining that she will deal with this conflict and educate mortals on the way of warfare. She moves onto the maramodas, capturing and questioning Garza, but comes to the decision that the maramodas should just remain in Keltra for the time being. She takes the maramodas after putting them all to sleep, and leaves her heralds to deal with the humans.
Homura spends 3 Vigor to create the monument: Temple of War, which is resilient building that protects its inhabitants, and lets them conjure tools to train and practice with. Homura has 0 Vigor remaining.
Desire doesn't expend any Vigor.
Courage, Courage II, Wanderer, Wanderer II, and Charis all gain 4 Spirit.
The Holy Quintet and the Order of the Phoenix both gain 2 Prestige.
She ran through the woods, careful not to fall to her demise for one slip would certainly result in a terrible injury if not a gruesome death. So far, she had succeeded in luring the devil and his forces towards her location, as her own soldiers relied upon the cover of the numerous trees and uneven slopes of the mountain to assist their retreat. It seemed as thought their tactics were working (aside from losing more than she had hoped for when many among her ranks had fled at the thunderous voice of the dark emperor) but Saoirse knew the more difficult task lay ahead - this was only the first step of the first battle in this cruel war that would be most likely lead to a sorrowful end for the kingdom of Seanate.
The princess thought she heard her father calling out, shouting over the storm, warning her and commanding her to cease this foolish endeavor. She even thought she saw him among the foliage once, riding his horse like a lunatic desperate to save her from her own folly. The mind played many strange tricks in the heat of battle, and she ignored her imagination, for what else could it be? Her father remained safe back at the castle after all. She prayed for his safety, and for his forgiveness, but she could not allow the embodiment of evil to reign over the land like a looming cloud of darkness. She had to fight!
The arrows they shot were not terribly effective, but hopefully they continued to draw the ire of their enemy, hopefully enraging them by constantly assailing them with an endless barrage and the few small sacrifices of men that stayed behind to ambush their pursuers, whenever the opportunity had arisen. Her forces just had endure their trek across the mountain while goading the enemy to chase after them until they reached their destination.
She heard her soldiers call back and taunt their foes, cursing and mocking them, before bravely fighting and being defeated by overwhelming numbers. Though Saoirse was not inclined to employ such crude and bawdy vernacular, she listened to the insults that came from dying men, and kept them in her memories for later use - both to honor the fallen, and to harass the enemy. They called out:
"Mangled, craven, mongrels! Come at me!"
"Ill-breeding, unmuzzled, whoresons! You'll never claim Seanate!
"It reeks of vile, weather-bitten surly sods, begone villainous fiends! Back to the infernal realm from whence you came!"
Saoirse had heard their insults, and shook her head with forlorn mirth while she rushed onwards to the next destination. Perhaps such profanity should never grace the ears of a princess, but it would bring a modicum joy to invoke as much anger in the invaders as possible, for the kingdom of Seanate would not succumb to tyranny without showing their mettle and fighting to their very last breath.
Vampiretwilight,
Lord Zee,
Fetzen,
Timemaster,
DracoLunaris,
DX3214,
CFProxy
