Dawnscroll — Roleplayer Guild

Elysium

Level 1 Realta Hero
14 Khookies

The frozen night air swirled around him. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck were standing frigidly as the wind blew gently over his skin. He lifted a handful of snow and placed it into his mouth to hide his warm, fogging breath. His eyes, which had only seen fourteen winters in the world, were wide and alert in the blackness of the near dawning hour. They were trained unblinkingly on his prey: A solitary stag standing quietly in the snow, brushing back the white powder to nibble on the grass hidden beneath. The sheer deafening silence of the night filled his ears as he watched the peaceful sight. This was one of the reasons he so enjoyed hunting at this hour. Everything, all of the world, seemed at peace. He could feel everything breathe and hear every life. It gave him such an intimate connection with the world. But there was also another reason.

The most beautiful gem in all of the celestial heavens looked down upon him at this hour. The moon. All of his life he could remember being completely enthralled by its beauty. Maybe that was his reason for his desire to hunt. The Elders claimed the goddess of the moon was the goddess of the hunt as well after all.

He drew a spear from its place on his back and readied his arm. His eye traced the spear’s path from his hand to its target. The stag lifted its head and stared in his direction, but he was well hidden among the growth of the forest. The stag glanced around for another moment, then continued its grazing. He drew his arm back till the fire-hardened tip of the spear grazed to his ear. It would be the perfect shot. He took in a breath and held it to steady the throw. That was when he saw her.

She sat just inside his field of vision. If it had not been but for the grace of the moon's light upon her hair, sunlit hair, he might not have ever seen her at all. 

No, not might not. Would not. For all he knew, she had been there the whole time, perfectly still. What was a young girl doing out during this hour? When she rose the strange tool on her hands he had his answer. A splint of wood, curved with sinew. But where had the tool come from? A burning sensation shocked his arm as he realized that he still had his arrow aimed at the stag. With as much care and silence as he could manage, he relaxed his arm and continued to watch as the girl took aim.

He had thought that his own shot would be perfect, but he felt as though he were a mere babe lifting a spear for the first time as he watched her. She was a still as the night itself, not making a single movement that his eyes could detect. He could not feel her as he felt the rest of the world around them. Had his eyes not been locked directly onto the young girl's face, he would not have believed that she was even there. Such a sweet face with a look of utmost seriousness upon it. He was mesmerized by her presence. When she released her arrow, it flew silently through the air and pierced its target. The stag did not make a sound, save for its weight falling against the cool, soft blanket of snow beneath it.

As she rose from her place among the trees, his eyes continued to follow her. She was only a youth like him, but her practice with that was flawless. Her blonde hair was pulled back away from her face with eyes as pale as the moon. The color of her skin matched that of the snow, but somehow shimmered in the moonlight. No, it did not shimmer. It was as though the moonlight danced within it. She knelt down beside her prize and gracefully stroked its fur and bowed her head as she did so.

He did not know how long she knelt, nor when he had risen, but he found himself drawn towards her. Before he had even realized that he had stepped into the clearing, her eyes turned on him. While she stared into his eyes he felt as though she was looking into his very soul. Something about her was beyond him. Far beyond him. When she stood, even though he stood taller than her by nearly a full head, he could feel her looking down upon him.

"I am Elysium." Her voice was just as mystifying as she was, and it played in his ears like a song long forgotten. She was the Hunter. She was the Mother. She was the Great Spirit the Elders spoke of. His heart nearly stopped as he realized that she was the embodiment of everything that he knew and loved in this world. She raised her hand before him and spoke once more. "By my fathers decree, no mortal may witness my hunt."

He bowed his head before her and sank to his knees. He pulled his spears from his back and laid them on the snow in front of him along with his head. Though he did not look up, he could still feel the eyes of Elysium upon him, and he waited.

Nothing. Nothing happened. Slowly, he rose his gaze to find her still standing over him.

"You are not going to run?" she asked. "You are not going to beg for your life?"

He did not speak. He only stared into her eyes and tried to fathom their depth. Everything about her captivated his senses. It was only when her brow furrowed that he realized she was expecting him to answer.

"My mother," he said. "I could live to see a thousand thousand suns and never witness anything as perfect as what I have just seen. Knowing that, I can face my end feeling fulfilled."

The goddess regarded him with a look that he could not discern the meaning of. Her eyes wavered back and forth between each of his own. He did not know what she was seeing, nor what she was thinking as she did so, but he found himself praying that what she saw did not disappoint her. Finally, she lowered her hand, turned her back to him, and returned to her prize.

"My mother?" he asked.

"Go," she commanded.

He was unable to do as she ordered. His legs felt weak and his arms were heavy. All he could do was stare at her in awe and admiration. She was everything. She was the Birth. She was the Hunt. She was all that he had ever loved. Though he knew he should, his body would not allow him to part from her. All that he could do was bow his head respectfully once more as she turned and faced him again. She did not speak. She did not bid him to speak. She did not even acknowledge him again. When he found the courage to raise his eyes, she and the stag were nowhere to be seen. 

There he sat, alone in the snow, with no proof that he had truly seen the goddess of the Hunt herself except for the impression in the snow of a stag he had not slain.

And the weapon that she had left behind.

Elysium gives the give of Archery to her children - 2 Khookies
Elysium levels to level 2 - 2 Khookies

<Snipped quote by Double Capybara>

Actually, Reathos and Illunbar were the only two gods to not make any mark in the Codex. I suppose, by virtue of the Shattering Disunity, there would be traces of their essence in there, but since they didn't write anything in it you wouldn't be able to identify them, even if you could detect and distinguish those faint traces...@BBeast

If... if Reathos didn't make his mark... then thay rams that death ISN'T apart of Creation. O_o Which means the gods that put forth power have a little more claim than those who didnt.

*glances at Reathos* Even Logos must concede to the fact that, despite his wishes or opinions, Change, Corruption and Jvanic Beauty are apart of the world they created. He despises them and wishes to erase them, but must acknowledge they exist.

Death... death ISN'T natural here

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