Vec
kapuchuRight, still alive folks. At a loss for what to write though. Just... Lucas randomly waking up in a hospital? Anyone there with him?
....help?
....help?
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@Double Capybara I now have this mental image of the gods all as children, and Logos trying to look all big and important as a 'teen' even though he's like.... 10. He's holding up a raggedy Anne doll and glaring ant Illy, whose holding a tea party with all of her stuffed animals.
@Double Capybara I know you did, have yet had the chance to respond unfortunately. Would you prefer to have Meimu held at sword or energy blast point?
Okay, all seriousness, DO need a collab woth a few different gods. Yknow who you are, so hit me up.
Elysium
Level 1 Realta Hero
***===***===***===***===***
The dense jungle canopy made the soil cool and dark. The trees towered a hundred times Elysium’s height, and no grass or brush managed to grow on the forest floor. Trunks shot up from the ground and disappeared into the sky—pillars to hold up the roof of leaves shading the jungle.
Below it all, Elysium walked along the ground, touching her hand to the trees she passed, and checking on their health. The air felt hot and humid, and the air held a slight haze. The forest was only a day’s flight from the sea, and was watered by monsoons which gave it its glory.
It was one of many forests created by her father and nurtured by her, but it by far had the largest trees.
Her father alighted from his perch above and landed softly beside her, tucking his wings into his sides.
“Have you flown high up?” she asks, staring at the forest ceiling. “You’ve made this land green as far as the eye can see. It’s so different from the arctics or the desert.”
“Good,” Logos said. “That is the idea, is it not?”
“I’m just making idle comment.” Elysium huffed and looks away. In an unbefore seen gesture, her father had accompanied her on one of her trips away from the Citadel. “You are harder and harder to talk to these days.”
“Sorry. We’ll be someplace we can rest soon,” Logos said, looking at the nearby trees and checking his bearings. “There is a cave nearby a waterfall just south of here.”
The sound of rushing water reached Elysiums ears, and a small river—almost a stream—lie up ahead. A cliff marked with moss and jagged edges cuts the stream in half, and water crashes and foams, pouring from the cliff into the waiting pool below. On the opposite side of the river, not far from the waterfall, the dark entrance to a cave lay with its bank covered with moss.
Elysium walked to the waters edge and leapt with a few accompanying wingbeats to see her over the river. She landed on the rock on the opposite side, and turned to look back at her father on the opposite bank.
The darker deity mimiced her actions over the river, and landed next to her.
“I must say, I was looking forward to sleeping on something more comfortable than rock,” Elysium says, testing the ground beneath her feet.
Logos shook his head and started towards the cave. “You won’t have to worry about that.”
Elysium followed him, curiously, and stared at the cave mouth. They stepped inside it, and for a while, it is pitch black, and Elysium could not see her own hand infront of her face. The only way she even knew that her father was still with her, was the soft, almost inaudible sound of is feet against the moss.
The darkness was cool, and the cave stone was chilled by the river that ran near it. Elysium strains her eyes to make out any light in the darkness.
“Any reason you have not cast a light spell?” she asked her father ahead of her.
“We won’t need one in a moment,” Logos said, still peering into the dark.
She spotted it, a faint blue glow coming from around a corner up ahead. The walls and moss floor of the cave became visible again, and Elysium and Logos round the corner to see a myriad of color.
The turn opened up to a great cavern, high enough that one could fly around in it. Crystals lined the roof and emit a luminescent blue light, shining down on the moss below and turning it into a sea of turquoise. A pool of water, clear as air, lies in the center of the chamber, and the blue light danced off its surface.
“When did you make this?” Elysium asked, looking around at the crystals on the walls.
“Before the moon, before the sun, before the first Realta became aware,” Logos said as he walks towards the water. “I made this cave centuries ago, when I made all the other crystals and gemstones. The moss spread from the forest to the cave. The pond... I had a little help with.”
“It is like another plane hidden away from the rest of the world!” Elysium exclaims, rushing up to her father’s side, and spinning around to look at all sides of the cavern. “I’d forgotten how wonderful something [i]new[i] could be.”
“I always thought that look was your most beautiful expression,” Logos said, his once hard eyes softening at the way his daughter's were lighting up with glee from looking at the cavern. “This is my gift to you... use it well.”
“It'll be the perfect spot to relax after dealing with you,” Elysium teased. She waded into the pool of water, and walked to its center. The blues dance off her skin, and the waves she creates in the water send ripples of light down her body.
.
.
.
“Elysium!”
The Realta snapped her eyes open at hearing Logos’s voice cry out. Standing and looking out from the pool, she saw him struggling and sinking into the bed of moss beside the water.
“Father!” Elysium screams, charging into the water. She maked it only halfway, when Logos’s head is dragged underwater. “Father!” she screams again, trudging through the water to see her Father’s wide and frightened eyes, only his head and arms still sticking out of the moss. “Father, hold on!” Elysium shouts, closing her eyes and focusing, calling upon her magic to pull him out.
But her magic is gone.
Elysium gasps, and panic courses through her veins. She reaches her hands down to grab Logos’s. Kicking and flapping her wings, she feels her limbs scream in protest as she pulls as hard as she can to free him out.
Logos looks up at his daughter from the moss and smiles, making Elysium’s blood run cold.
“Don’t give up!” she shouts, but Logos simply smiles, even as the moss swallows him. Elysium grips onto his hand still sticking out, but eventually, even it too disappears into the ground.
Elysium sits, broken, in the water. She combs through the moss with her hands, but all there is below the moss is stone.
A tear falls and splashes the water. And then another. Elysium shudders, and her vision waters as she holds her arms against her chest. She does not know how long she sits there, staring at the spot that swallowed her father whole.
And then someone wading through the water sounds from behind her.
Elysium freezes, her hairs stand on end, and a shiver travels along her spine. She stands and turns to face them, and what she sees causes her to falter.
Her father faces her, but her eyes are blank, not white, but empty and his wings and skin are dull, ashen colors. He says nothing. His face is a stoic mask that doesn’t even register Elysium’s presence. The water does not ripple from where he stands; his body is perfectly still.
“Father?” Elysium asks, but she knows it is not him, only a ghost resembling her. “What happened, you were—” Elysium reaches a hand out to touch Logos, but the hand passes right through her as though she were air. She looks down at her hand, then back up at the ash colored Logos. The apparition remains unmoving, uncaring of her presence.
Elysium looks down at the water. “I... I don’t understand.”
The ashen visage tilts his head, in a curious manner that reminds Elysium of the real Logos. Then, he begins to step forward.
Elysium’s gut reaction is to step back, but the ghost keeps walking towards her, a haunting smile on its visage. Logos’s body begins to crumble into black sand that floats as though caught in a dust devil, but there is no wind.
The black sand sweeps around behind Elysium, and surrounds her, forming a bubble around her. It hisses with the sound of the sand rubbing against itself, grains grinding against one another, and the sound grows louder as the sand spins around her faster and faster. Elysium sits in the water and holds her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sound.
The bubble bursts, and the sand dissipates. Elysium looks around to find herself staring at a flat, gray horizon. She slowly, almost fearfully, looks down at the ground.
White sandstone.
She pushes against it with her hands, not believing it to be real, but it feels as solid as the moss in the save did. The sandstone spans the horizon. There is only her, and every last bit of her is as white as the sandstone around her, and she has no wings.
“How...” Elysium sits and looks around for any sign of anything. “How am I here?” Her voice breaks the absolute silence. Not even wind exists in this barren.
Elysium stands, and she begins to wander for a very long time.
She looks up at the sky, half expecting the moon or sun to show their faces at any time. But time does not exist here. Nothing moves, nothing changes, and nothing casts a shadow. The ground is hard, and leaves no footprints. The air is dry and has no taste.
After what feels like months of wandering, Elysium sees a dark figure in the distance. She pauses, and realizes that they are slowly walking toward her. A ray of hope shines through as the silhouette draws closer. It has the same figure and poise, and even the same walk as her father.
Elysium breaks into a run towards him, wishing she could just fly up to her and hug him with all her strength, but as she draws closer, something seems wrong. Logos is not calling out to her, or rushing out to greet her. He simply walks towards her, at a subdued pace.
Elysium draws closer, and recognizes the figure not to be her father, but the ghost that sent her back. She stops, but the apparition draws closer.
Elysium steels herself, and levels a glare at the approaching thing that wears her father’s guise. “Where is Logos?” she shouts across the wasteland at it. “Why did you bring me here?”
The ghost makes no move to stop, and continues to walk towards her.
Elysium snorts, raises her first, but the ghost is unfazed by her show of aggression, and she wonders if it even knows she’s there. Breaking into a ran, she charges the apparition with her fist lowered to its chest. She breathes deep, panting breaths, and her eyes focus on the ash colored father.
The copy of Logos continues walking forward at a slow pace, uncaring of her charge.
Elysium draws close, and she looks at the blank, dead eyes of the copy, and it gives her pause in her charge. The eyes seem to stare into her very being, and it sends a jolt of panic through her that makes her halt her charge.
The copy continues walking calmly towards her, uncaring of her halting.
Elysium can only stand there, petrified with fear as the ghost approaches her. It walks up to her, and presses its lips to hers.
The Realta’s blood runs cold, and the kiss feels like death. There is no love in it, no joy, no passion, just an emptiness that threatens to swallow her whole. She wants to desperately pull away, but she is rooted to the spot with terror.
Its lips still locked to hers, the apparition begins to dissolve into black sand. The sand travels into Elysoum’s body, and she feels it spreading through her like a poison. She shudders, her lips still pressed against the apparition’s. They remain in a kiss of death until all of the sand is absorbed into her body. The ghost’s head disperses to sand last and goes inside her.
And then, all is quiet.
She is alone in the sea of sandstone once more, and nothing moves, nothing stirs, aside from her.
Elysium lets out a gasp, finally able to breathe. She sits down and raises a hand to her chest, trying to slow her racing heart. The sound of her heartbeat fills her ears, and she swallows, her tongue feeling dry and uncomfortable where it sits in her mouth.
Pain strikes her. It is sharp like a thousand crystals in her bloodstream, and it feels like she is being drowned in arctic water. She falls to the ground, her breath coming in short, raspy gasps, and the world begins to collapse around her.
Like shattered pieces of glass, the world crumbles around her, falling down and disappearing in a dark abyss below. The murky, gray sky leaves, and all that’s left is a black void and Elysium, lying on a floating isle.
The pain fades, and Elysium stands up. She looks around, searching for any sign of the world that once was, but all around her is an endless black that seems to stretch for an eternity in every direction.
Hesitantly, she steps towards the edge of the isle she’s stranded on and looks down, but the void seems to fall for an eternity, and the pieces of the land that fell have already disappeared.
Fear and desperation grip Elysium, and she looks up at the endless void. “Please, let me go back!” she shouts. She shudders as her eyes begin to water, and she looks down at the ground, her tears dripping onto it. “Please...”
An orb of light falls down from the void, and Elysium’s head snaps up to look at it. It floats gently down and stops just in front of her. The orb’s light grows brighter, and its intensity forces Elysium to clench her eyes shut.
.
.
.
“Enough!”
Her father's voice fills her ears, and impossibly strong hands grasp her shoulder. Water rushes around her; then soft moss. Elysium’s eyes shoot open, and she found herself back at the moss and crystal cavern, laying upon the mossy shore. Her father was standing over her and while he did not show it, she could tell he was worried.
The Realta rubbed her eyes, to make sure what she was seeing was real, and looked up at her father. “How long was I asleep?”
“Only for a moment. When I realized what had happened, I pulled you out.”
“Only for a moment?”
Logos looked at her, his brow furrowing in concern. “Is everything alright?”
"...I will be fine." Elysium lied. She avoided looking at her father. The sight of him brought back haunting shadows from the dream. She looked at Logos and she couldn’t help but see his ashen counterpart, whose kiss sucked all the warmth out of the world.
Logos turned away, looking around at the cavern, his eyes searching. “The Waters of Nyvee,” he asks, walking to the edge of the pool, his expression uncertain. “I saw what you lived in the waters."
Elysium shivered, buring her face in a hand. "It seemed so..."
"Real?" Logos reached down to dip his fingers into waters, and the pond rippled. "To another perhaps. It was simply a me that could have been, but never was. Look now," he commanded her and Elysium took a peek over her eyes into the pond.
"It's just my refl-oh!" She made a soft noise of surprise and leaned over to stare down.
She was looking at herself. It could have even been here reflection; it blinked as she did, its wings twitched in excitement, and she But the Elysium that stared back had been given hair as crimson as the rose.
"Now that's something,” Elysium remarked, idly playing with her own blonde strands as the image mimiced her motion.
"It is a tool of great power. Not an outlet for something as insignificant as vanity."
Elysium lets out a sigh and rested her chin on the moss bed, its tendrils tickling her nose. “Why do you always hunger for more? When will it be enough?”
"When the War is over."
Her eyes flicked up to him, furrowing in confusion. "What war? The humans don't even have the numbers for combat yet."
"Not here. Not on Arcon." Logos dipped a finger into the pool, and the scene changed. Vast hordes of... creatures that Elysium had never seen before marched across an almost alien landscape. Great hulking behemoths of flesh and scars, gangly warriors of and cold and ice, rolling tornados of dust and wind, and foot soldiers of... a white material foreign to her. In their wake, the world burn and turned to ash and through the visions she saw a god laughing with mirth as though it was all good sport.
"Vestec. Even now he assembles his host and marches on the other gods." He gave a nod to the pond. "I have seen where he is victorious and all of reality burns. And I have seen where the gods kneel before me at last. Both of these outcomes, and more, are available to us should I act. Or not. But the path there is clouded, and I know not the way." Logos aswered truthfully, and with a wave of his hand he banished the images from the surface, turning once more to his daughter. "What do you think should I do?" Logos asked.
Elysium blinked in surprised, absolutely floored the question. Her father never, never asked her for advice. "Me?"
Logos nodded, and suddenly Elysium felt very small. Her mind raced as she looked at the pool, uncertain as ever as she realized that her father had probably seen every possible outcome. Why ask her, when he had only just shown her the-
Oh. That was why.
"It can all be rebuilt," she told him softly, and repressed a shudder as the memory of her Not-Father came to her. That could never happen. That would never happen.
She believed every word.
She had too.
"But if He trully does grow in strength, he could march upon us. We cannot let that happen."
“Very well.” Logos rose before her and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the cave air in through his nostrils. He walked forward, eyes closed, to the waters edge.
Elysium fixed him with a confused look, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow at him, but her father ignored it. He dips his arms down to the water, his palms floating just off its surface and beginning to glow. The light coming from his hands hummed with energy, and despite not touching the water, it begins to send small ripples along the surface.
Logos focused on the power in his hands, and shaped it into heat and light and raw energy that makes the air feel alive with magic. It glowed, not unlike the sun, but in a softer, more intimate manner.
Beside him, Elysium took a step back, both to give her room, and to create some small distance between her and the power her father was emitting. The entire cave was illuminated by the light, and the fainter light of the crystals was overwhelmed and smothered by the radiant light coming from Logos's eyes, and it painted the water into a white sheet as the surface continues to ripple.
Something in the way the magic was moving suddenly changed. The heavy, oppressive feel of it saturating the air retracted back into Logos, and the magic moves from the tip of his wings and spread back to him, giving her entire body an aura of white magic, but it is thin, and controlled.
Logos’s eyes snapped open, and they were full and glow with her magic. Elysium took a step back before she could stop herself, watching Logos's control over his power with a bit of awe. In a trance-like state, Logos walked out into the center of the pool in calm, confident strides. Water parted away from him like it was afraid, and the hum of his might bounces around the cave, coming from every direction.
A small orb of solid light the size of a pea appears floating over the water. Logos wrapped his magic around it, adding layers to the orb and slowly making it grow, until it was the size of her head.
The magic died down, and the solid orb, now like glass—floats down to the surface of the water, and lies there. The moment it skimmed the surface of the water, it unraveled, revealing the many layered petals of a flower. Pristine beyond the dreams of any mortals, it drifted on the surface as if it was a fraction of the weight it should have been.
Elysium was the first to take any sort of action. She walked out into the water to stand next to her father, and stared at the flower intently. They stood there for a while, but nothing happened. Giving a sigh of defeat, she turned to him.
“What exactly is it?” she asks, gesturing to the flower. Her father carefully scooped up an orb of water with his magic, the crystal flower floating in its center.
"A pre-emptive strike."
@Cyclone Well, he IS the God of Laws and Justice.
In the Galbarian justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In Arcon, the dedicated Realta who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Logosian Fan Club. These are their stories.
In the Galbarian justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In Arcon, the dedicated Realta who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Logosian Fan Club. These are their stories.
<Snipped quote by Vec>
Thanks for actually taking the time to read it; I had this sinking feeling that nobody would.
<Snipped quote by Vec>
My guessing goes:
God + hero = demigod
God + demigod = demigod
Demigod + hero = nothing because demigods are just gods that haven't hit puberty yet.
So you're saying that all demigods are just shooting blanks?
Oh my god... does that mean Logos is Chris Hanson?
TOBIA
The One By Immortals Altered, The First Formica, The Primordial Ant, The Ancient Xeno, The First Among Creation, Bane of Jvankind, The First Exile
Level 2 Hero of Vowzra
5 Khookies
***===***===***===***===***
And so it was that TOBIA’s tremendous, and only, trek came to its horrific conclusion: the resolute hero of Time, the relentless Bane of Jvankind, was sent hurtling through the Universe by that self-same cancer she had declared total war upon. Perhaps the Deformed Flesh thought that, in doing what it did, it had rid itself of this pestilent killer of its profane creations. But TOBIA had merely done as her mighty master willed.
And her mighty master had declared complete, unceasing, relentless and perpetual war against the Deformed Flesh.
The grave implications of this war had yet to surface, but grave indeed were they. As it were, TOBIA now found herself hurtling through the atmosphere of a planet very different from Galbar. It eased her pain very little to know that she was the first interstellar traveller – indeed, being first had slowly begun to lose its glisten after becoming the first to do so many things. The first to be created was she, the first to enter The Gap and the first to return, the first to traverse the girth of Galbar, and now the first to travel across the Universe toward a planet not hers. Had she not been torn from her home for rolling millennia before? Was she to undergo that same pain yet again? She, the First Exile, and now the Second Exile also.
‘Woe am I,’ she lamented, as she pierced the atmosphere of Arcon and hurtled on towards its surface. Yet it seemed that this planet had guardians grim and brave who even now launched themselves towards TOBIA, having already destroyed the Jvanic eye that had followed her across the Universe.
‘It is most unseemly for a being who has suffered so to meet only with an unsightly death at long journey’s end,’ she stridulated angrily, ‘and more so when long journey has only just begun! So forgive me Grim Guardians, for I have many promises to keep and miles to trek before I sleep – long, long miles to trek before I sleep,’ and with that, she released a mighty wave of energy, creating an escape from the Jvanic prison which had protected her from the vast void of the endless spaces, but which now only served as a moving target for beings whom mere flesh could not repel. They would not notice a creature so small as her – in comparison to this great Jvanic thing that she had been imprisoned in – leap away. Nor would they notice that this creature, as it fell, sprouted glorious wings and stridulated her determination and fury to the Arconian skies.
‘You may be leagues and galaxies away from me, but know this, great defiler, Jvanic entity, nothing shall spare you from my red fury, when my mandibles next strike, there will no mercy be. And oh Great Tormenter! Think not that you have rid the world of me! ‘tis but Time and Space that separates you and my just severity,’ her wings whirred and she flew swiftly, her perceptive eyes searching for a place of safety where she could hide from the grim guardians. They settled upon a cave. And there she flew, and she went as deep as she could, and she dug herself into the ground, and there she thought and planned, even as the Realta ahead twinkled in the black sky above.
The fall of TOBIA had not gone unnoticed by the ever watching heavens, for as the great Hero of Time submerged herself in the loamy soil of Arcon, a trio of lights plucked themselves. Across the celestial firmament they fell, in arcing lights and the many tribes of Man looked up in wonder.
In fire and light landed the first, a figure of terrible beauty and power. It struck the earth with a shattering crack, throwing up great tummults of soil and stone. In a moment came its siblings, likewise tarnishing the one pristine landscape with their blinding beauty. The One By Immortals Altered felt their coming as the earth she hid within trembled with their landing.
The Realta dutiously approached the mouth of the cavern, piercing through the darkness and into the dark beady eyes of The One By Immortals Altered. Flames licked from their metals shells and hands, kissing the cold air around them, even as The One By Immortals began clicking her mandibles and preparing for a battle she had done all to avoid.
"Enough."
The air trembled with the command, shaking the foundation of the mountain itself, and the Realta lowered their hands with machine-like obedience. The air in the mouth of the hole shimmered as Logos, Lord of Order appeared. The fallen stars bent a knee in acknowledgement, a fist planted on the soil as they bowed their heads. If their Light bothered their Lord, he did not acknowledge it.
Logos folded his wings against his back and stared down into the dark hole, eyes unblinking as the god stood long in thought. The Realta, unspeaking and ever patient guardians, waited for their Lord's judgement.
At last, Logos tore away the surface of the cave with a dismissive gesture. Another fissured the soil and drew the squirming appendaged creature from its hiding, into the Realta's light. He held The One By Immortals Altered before him, pinned to the ether with but the infintisimal fraction of his will, examining her as one would a particularly interesting specimen.
"Vowzra."
The Universe rumbled with the summons. And Logos did not need to look behind him to know that he had been answered. Indeed, behind Logos the Fabric of Existence had begun to shimmer and a strange black mist emerged from it, whipping around the Realta and forcing them to retreat from the forming essence of the god. The mist coagulated upon itself and [url=bear_warrior__1p_clr__by_uchider.jpg]a powerful being[/url] appeared before Logos and the First Exile.
'It appears that my Chosen has been stolen, Eternal One. Why have you chased her here and frightened her so? And why do you threaten her thus with Guardians Grim and divine powers?' he slowly circled around Logos and pulled the ant towards him, freeing her of the grip of Logos. Upon landing on her feet before her master, she swiftly made her way behind him and hid from the gaze of Logos. Vowzra turned his head towards the god of Order.
[color=black][/i]'You target an innocent, Adjudicator,'[/i][/color] the words left the bear-like mouth in the form of a growl, [color=black][/i]'while the Deformed Criminal fills the Universe with its ugliness. Even now it spurns the Will of Fate and does as it so desires. Has the Time not come, Eternal One, for you to step forth with me and rid the Universe of that most malignant cancer?'[/i][/color]
"Twas she who came and she who awoke my servants," Logos stated without emotion. He spared not the faintest glance further towards the insect, having seen all that he had desired too. "She trespasses, intent or none, upon the soils of my world."
Here Logos gestured with a hand to the cool summer night about them. Wind swayed through trees flush with leaves, insects that chirped and buzz in the Realta-lit shadows, the rushing of the mountain streams. It was a world full of sight and sound: something that Galbar itself had not yet become.
"When you did not join with me in the Beginning, when All was maleable, you consigned yourself to the inevitable," the God of Order judged his brethren. "A universe full of Change, Chaos, and Perversion."
Each word was like a drop of acid upon Logos's tongue, though he did not spit them out. The pain of its realization reminded him of their poison: he would never allow himself to forget their taste.
"But there is but one corner of this accursed plane that the Natural Order... my Order stands. Fate and you gave the universe to the Engineer: let her claim it. But this world is mine, and it will remain free," here Logos gave a piercing glare at TOBIA, "...of anomalies incapable of obedience."
Vowzra was silent for a long while, looking deep into Logos' eyes.
'Anomalies incapable of obedience...you say,' with his heavy words, full of meaning, hanging between them, Vowzra turned to his Chosen and gathered her up in his arms. Fate had sent her here for a reason, but he knew not what this reason was for his Sight was yet tainted by his recent experiences.
'Far be it for me to bend the knee and acquiesce to your authority, Eternal One, but I do get the impression that I must bend the knee to a being much greater than you. It only do I obey. And so do you, I must say, and all others. But you all realise very little,' he put the ant down between the god of Order and himself, 'what is it that you wish of me that this being, whom Fate Most-Glorious has placed at your door-step, may remain?'
It took Logos a moment to consider.
"All the yesterdays that never were, and the tomorrow's that could have been. These will be my daughter's, for this world is for her."
Logos gave the faintest of nods, and the three Realta took position around TOBIA. The white flame of their essence stretched out to lick her carapace. Where before had been the heat to turn stone to slag, was but now a gentle warmth.
"Her design is... acceptable. She is free in her wildness, she is a wanderess, a drop of free water. She knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for Time or customs. 'Fate' for her isn’t something to bend to. Her life flows clean, with passion, like fresh water."
"Child of Time," Logos adressed TOBIA directly now. "Here there is but law: mine. Drink from clear springs if you thirst, kill if you must if you hunger, and rest within the deep woods. But disrupt not the balance of my Natural Order. The Engineer will not harm you here."
The ant looked towards her Master, and a small smile spread across the huge bear's face. He waved her forward, telling her to go forth and explore this brave new world. She clicked her mandibles, almost sadly, before turning to Logos and lowering her head in respect. With that, she rushed away from the gathered gods. With her gone, the smile faded from the Lord of Time's face and he turned back to Logos.
'All the yestardays that could have been, and the tomorrows that could be,' he said coldly, his Eye Seeing quite clearly what it was that Logos wanted. Even as he spoke, his form faded and coalesced upon itself, and his familiar form of bark stood before the other divine. Behind him, the cave that had been destroyed in Logos' pursuit of the ant re-formed upon itself and Vowzra turned and disappeared within it. A single command rang out within Logos' mind.
'Come,' the Lord of Time made his way through the cave until he reached its end, and there he carved a small hole in the ground which gret until it was a perfect circle with a fifty centimetre radius. He extended an arm forward and waited a while.
Dew had slowly begun to form on his arm of bark, and water began to drip from it. Soon enough there was a rather forceful flow coming down his arm and resting in the waiting hole. As the water rose, its strange properties caused it to erode away at the perfect circle Vowzra had carved until it became twice as big. The waters bubbled and foamed, and Vowzra bent down and placed one wooden finger into the pool. It was immediately still. Rather than his reflection in it, one could see the sky in the pool, and closer still, one seemed to be looking up at a fruitful cherry tree.
Even as the Timeless One looked into it, the pond overflowed and began slowly gushing up the cave, filling its width and length until it reached the entrance half a mile back. TOBIA had chosen a deep cave indeed, but it had not saved her from the Realta or Logos' piercing sight. It only stopped its relentless flooding when it reached the mouth of the cave. Below them the image disappeared and the waters were still.
Logos stood on the shores of the still, his gaze lingering upon the still waters of the pool.
"It will suffice." He intoned at last, as he bent a knee down into the mud of the pool. He placed a hand within the mire and closed his eyes, bending the soil and the elements to his will. The subtlest of nudges, the gentlest of movements: the beginning of a long and tenuous process for it to be perfect upon its presentation.
His power infused into the work, the Lord of Order rose and stole a glance at the silent face of bark. "You will lose." Logos surmised with all the chalance of one remarking about the weather. "The foe you fight is many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting Her will be like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."
He turned and left for the cool night of Arcon, feet traversing over the stone and sand of the cavern rather than flight. "Something of mine was stolen recently. Soon, I will seek recompense," he informed the Lord of Time, casting a backward stare at his brother deity. His eyes shone bright with eternity. "I will strike what blow I can while I am there."
Though Vowzra's face remained deadpan, a smile wormed its way into his eyes. Even as Logos spoke and proclaimed that he would not aid him in his war, he nonchalantly declared that he would aid him simply because circumstance would allow him to. Circumstance would allow him to. He did not comment on the matter however. Gods were proud beings, they enjoyed feeling free and independent - feeling that all things depended and rotated around them. It was not his place to proclaim, be ye ever so high, still you bend the knee.
Which wise being was it who once, seeing the darkness and falsehood which prevailed, declared that the truth may indeed be puzzling, that it may take great effort to grapple with? That it may be counterintuitive or contradict deeply held prejudices. Indeed, it may not be in line with what one desperately wants to be true. But in the end, one's preferences do not determine what is true. The Truth is the Truth, though Worlds cry out and shun it. A wise man was he, who pierced the falsehoods, the lies.
'I may well lose,' Vowzra stated simply, 'and I may not. It is for the safety of all, the True Timeline, that I struggle and fight, it shall suffice that I did struggle, breathe and die that all may flourish and delight,' he took a few steps from the cave before he melted away into the Fabric of Existence, and his voice rang out once more in Logos' mind, 'but strike bravely strike, it shall suffice.'
Necessary Edit.... DISHONOR ON MY FAMIRY!
Elementals are literally everywhere on Galbar (probably more numerous than all other sentients, though their numbers are more or less fixed) and they simply spawn in the presence of magic, especially that of Astarte or Zephyrion.
They might actually start appearing on Arcon.
...and then they might actually start disappearing from Arcon. I mean, it's not like there's a plasma task force orbiting the planet.... nope!
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