Crucible of Gods is a divine roleplay inspired in part by Divinus as well as some new original ideas. The setting of the story takes place on the Crucible, an isolated world with a mysterious past. Our gods awaken at the central node, a location owned by a dying God. Scattered across the world of Crucible are these nodes, strange black pillars that stretch endlessly downward and are nigh indestructible. Each node seems to have control over a section of the world, though right now every part of the world is in a veil of destructive chaos save for the central node.
Stabilized by the dying god, in this location you learn that you and the other gods were born of his will. He explains to you the prophecy of the Crucible: in some unknown amount of time, the entire realm will be completely and utterly destroyed with everything in it unless all the nodes are under the touch of a divine -- in which case at this unknown time of destruction, the world will transform to fit the absolute will of the god in control of all the nodes.
Further he explains that he himself was the previous god to complete such a task, though he didn’t want to. He was a member of an alliance that supported the will of a better god than he, but such a god was slain by rivals and so reluctantly the dying god collected the nodes. However, at the end times, his will was shaky and his truest desire was for someone else to have collected the nodes and bring forth a true dream and will, and so the nodes reset the world and birthed a new generation of divine: you.
He is unsure if his crucible was the first and if this was the second, but without that knowledge all he can do is wish you the best of luck. His will thankfully also birthed the first mortals in the central node location, humans. They are plain and without technology or a past, the same as yourselves. With little else, the dying god had completed all he needed to complete and passes on, leaving you to the conquest of the crucible and a world to create and control.
Welcome to the Crucible of Gods.
The aim of this story is to promote an open world divine roleplay with a strong sense of a central story based around an inciting incident (the end of the world/capture of the nodes) where there is little need for GM intervention and a lot of space for creativity. Please read below to understand the different parts of the game.
Nodes: The incentive to capture nodes is not linked to an out of character bonus or even in character bonus so as to remove the possibility of more active players zerg-rushing the nodes from less active players. Instead, the main incentive to capture nodes is for story purposes but also for one big mechanical reason: areas around nodes are too chaotic to support life until the node is stabilized by a claim. After stabilization, the capturer can define the stability.
What this means is that when a node is initially stabilized (it’s first ever stabilization) the god who is imparting their will can then choose a biome and mundane ecosystem to occupy the node’s territory for free. Changing the biome later (by the same god or another) will cost might. Do note that you must be in control of a node to make lasting changes to its biome.
Note: While there are no limits to capturing raw nodes, do note that I will be keeping my eye open in the starting weeks and strongly dissuading people from taking too many unstable nodes all at once to allow other players the opportunity to stabilize starting nodes.
God Nerf (as opposed to Divinus iterations): gods will be much more reliant on mortal supporters due to being weaker than traditional ‘gods’ and more vulnerable. Gods will also have a limit on how small their form can be and how large their form can be (determined at will by GM) as well as the set standard that all forms be solid (not ethereal, gaseous or liquid). Generally speaking, the form of a god will be unnaturally tough, but still vulnerable to damage. Godly Acts: Gods can perform amazing feats of divine activity thanks to the OOC mechanism called might. Each god is awarded five points of might at the start of a cycle. At the end of a cycle, unused might does not carry over. Each cycle will happen at the same time every designated interval, so there is no need to wonder when the next refresh will take place. These might points can be used to perform IC godly actions based on the might catalog. If an action has a 0 next to it in the catalog, it means this can be done for free!
Portfolios/Aspects: Portfolios and Aspects aren’t declared at the time of character creation but rather formed over time. Since we all start anew, each God begins rather with a “Will” or in other words, their goals and what they wish the world to be like as well as their passions and priorities. This will can change as the character develops but their actions performed will eventually give them monikers among mortalkind such as God of Death/Agriculture/Light/ and so on. In other words, a Portfolio is earned via action and reflects the Will of the god. This will be better noted on the character sheet.
Technology: Technology is bought and taught via might using a special tiered system present in the might catalog. Note that mortalkind can advance their own technology without might but require a sufficient amount of IC interaction with the advancement before it takes root in the society.
Despondence: A warning to the wholehearted! A phenomena exists on the Crucible called despondence. It is said that if a divine being gives up all hope and ambition and loses faith, their divine will and energy will slowly falter and eventually they themselves will evaporate. This despondence is said to affect any and all who suddenly go inactive.
Note the black ring marking the central node stabilized by the dying god. I’ll mark nodes as they are captured and maybe even fill in colors for biomes. Biomes do NOT need to grade into each other seamlessly, you can have some wildly different areas next to each other.
Name: (The starting name of your character)
Example: X’ample
Form: (What does your god look like inherently? Remember the rules: the form must be solid and of a reasonable size. If you add some natural resistances, maybe add some natural weaknesses as well!)
Example: A large grey fungus with arms of stone, pocked by fire. X’ample stands at around ten feet and is as wide as three men. Each arm is rippled with stone muscle and a heavy breathy voice echoes from the fungal ribs that cling to their mushroomy head. Though often seen tempering material in flame, their grey fungal body resists the heat and their arms, while scorched, do not feel the pain of the marks.
Due to X’ample’s love of heat and flame, they often steer clear of cold areas or even wide open spaces with too much wind, as frostbite too readily clings to their fungal fringes and sours their body.
Personality: (Who is your character and how do they react to the world around them?)
Example: X’ample is a stoic sort who only explodes with emotion at the mention of craft and work. They despise laziness and creativity, but applaud hard work and benediction through labor. So on and so on…
Will: (This is a bit tricky, but what does your god value and what would a manifestation of their will look like? This can change as the story progresses and your character develops.)
Example: The will of X’ample is one of hardwork. If all the world was ordered simply by gain through work and gain through labor, then all the better. Luck, chance, and charity all weaken the temperance, and only through self-dedication and so on and so on… you get it. Such a will would likely manifest through the collection of the nodes a world of work and a world of labor neverending where rest and enjoyment of fruition were forgotten under the heavy strain.
Favorite Color: (This will be used to mark nodes you own, first come first served.)
Example: Black, and now you can’t have it... You edgelords. But seriously, black is the color for the dying god’s initial node.
Please check the catalog for innate abilities, what you can and cannot do as well as expectations for playing oocly and icly.
A number will follow each item, that number indicates how much might is required to purchase that item. Before you take a look, here is a quick list of universal abilities owned by each god. You MAY forfeit any ability at the time of creation.
Breathe without air Does not starve or dehydrate Super-strength: think punching through metal and breaking boulders rather than razing mountains Super-speed: not going to do laps around the world in seconds or even going from node to node in a matter of minutes or hours, but can move and perceive faster and more acutely than mortalkind. Ageless Fluent in all language Being nice
Notable things NOT included in universal abilities:
Breaking a node Digging to the bottom of a node Creating a new node Creating a new continent Expanding the world Traveling to parallel realms or extra-dimensions Breaking the fourth wall
Expectations
You will interact with the node system You will interact with other players You will not shy away from conflict You will attempt to cooperate with others You will receive consent from other players before altering their work, if consent is not given and you feel like not interacting with the topic at hand would be unrealistic for the narrative, contact the GM You will not gatekeep other players from your plotlines You'll join the discord You are not writing in a vacuum
All that said, feel free to let me know if you see something missing on the catalog that you would like, or if you have ideas on any changes.
This will likely be your most used area of Might, as this covers divine acts done at a whim.
Creating a single plant or animal 0 (increase cost with increase power and area of effect)
Scattering the clouds, causing a normal rainstorm, or regular alterations to the weather pattern 0
Creating a prolonged change to weather such as a drought or rain 1
Creating a weather storm of dangerous levels such as a cyclone or striking lightning storm 2
Creating an isolated divine storm such as a rain of fire 3
Throwing fire, ice, lightning or other simple spells 0 (increase cost with increase power and area of effect)
Making a single or small batch of vegetation grow faster 0 (increase cost with increase power and area of effect)
Healing or curing the ailments of a single or small group of wounded and sick 0 (increase cost with increase power and area of effect)
Raising a single mortal recently deceased and still intact 2
Creating a dangerous beast or creature of power and magic
1 might for minotaur/harpy/fairy equivalent
2 might for Lion of Nemea/chimera equivalent
3 might for St George’s Dragon
4 might for Hydra equivalent
5 might for Godzilla equivalent
Artifacts are physical tools created by gods to do something specific. They do not lose their power but can break. Note that an artifact with a drawback for using it may be able to get away with a slightly better edge than an artifact that is all good.
Examples: 0 might: A single mundane tool or item of no magical property such as clothes or a fancy stick 1 might: A fantastical item of ability such as an ever-sharp sword, a shield that reflects arrows, a fire that reveals your deepest desire, or perhaps a loom that spins straw into gold 2 might: A war-cleaver that gets deadlier the more it kills at the cost of the bearer’s human form, A jacket completely immune to all slashing and piercing damage (though beware a hammer), A totem that lets you speak to a recently fallen comrade, a flute that can quell all beasts’ rage 3 might: A fountain that spouts sparkling water with healing powers, A bow that shoots 100 arrows with every shot, a ring that turns you invisible 4 might: A scepter that commands the wind and can conjure devastating storms, a chariot that can ride the clouds at incredible speeds, 5 might: (SIGNATURE ARTIFACT) Every god can create one signature artifact. Their signature artifact is a tool of immense power and can come in many forms. Check in before you make one!
This customizes your node and the area under the control of your node. Note that to do these, you have to own the area via node capture and be physically touching the node!
0 might:
Create the initial biome and ecosystem of a newly stabilized node (can’t be done on a recaptured node)
Capture a node (requires physical contact with the node for only a brief moment if stabilizing for the first time, and at least several uninterrupted hours if recapturing from a resisting god.)
Remove another God’s permissions to use the node (only the true owner can do this)
1 might:
Node warning (when another divine gets close to your node, you are alerted by the node)
Permanently change weather
Conjure single construction (Bastion, manor, wall)
Grant another god permission to use the power of the node (they can use it to count towards technology tiers, access the nexus’, and utilize this list)
2 might:
Node Nexus (creates a vortex by the node that allows the owner of the node to enter. It must be connected to another nexus under the control of the owner to work)
3 might:
Conjure many constructions (town, city, multifaceted academy or fortress)
Reform biome (not ecology)
4 might:
Quick Nexus (one-time) forces a nexus to send you to either a node under your control without a nexus, or the border of any node territory.
5 might:
Capital Nexus (must have 5 or more nodes under immediate control): You can use the Capital Nexus to travel to any owned node, even if they don’t have a nexus; however, you cannot teleport back without a nexus.
This covers blessings and curses bestowed upon a target.
0 might:
Remove a curse or blessing inflicted by yourself
Inconsequential curse or blessing (ex. change how someone smells)
Swap between forms
1 might:
Basic curse or blessing (ex. Super strong, infertile, blind)
Remove a basic curse or blessing by someone else
Create a new form for yourself (within form parameters)
2 might:
Advanced curse or blessing (ex. Lineage cursed with bad luck, tremendously hard to kill, incredibly skilled)
Remove and advanced curse or blessing by someone else
3 might:
Basic curse or bless a group
Remove a group curse or blessing by someone else
4 might:
Advanced curse or bless a group
Remove an advanced group curse or blessing by someone else
5 might:
Divine punishment (ex. Mutate target into a rodent to be tortured endlessly by the digestive system of an ageless bird) remove a Divine punishment
This covers the cost for advancing technology. Note that you can only make a technology purchase once per might cycle, with the only exception being that tier one does not count as a purchase and can be purchased at will. Realistically, this means tier one and tier two can be purchased in the same cycle.
Three final notes: firstly, I put quotations on either side of familiar phrases such as ‘iron’ or ‘bronze’ age simply because they are being used to conjure an idea of what the technology looks like rather than exist as an exact replica of our own historical bronze age. Secondly, technology level is a background setting and doesn’t affect things like what a god can make or what materials they can use or even magic complexity. It simply serves as the setting. Lastly, technology can spill onto societies nearby that didn’t pay for or develop the new technology themselves.
0 might+1 node: (Tier one)Raise a civilization to the stone age (fire, simple homes, stone knapping) 1 might+1 node: (Tier two)Raise a civilization to the ‘chalcolithic’ age or early metal age (agriculture, domestication, soft metal work (gold, silver, copper, tin)) 2 might+2 nodes: (Tier three)Raise a civilization to the ‘bronze’ age or middle metal age(complex alloys, water power, engineering) 3 might+4 nodes: (Tier four)Raise a civilization to the ‘iron’ age or high metal age(stronger alloys, advanced metal design, chemistry, the romance of a classic age of fantasy) 4 might+6 nodes: (Tier five)Raise a civilization to the transitory age or early fantasy industrial age (cannons and swords, longbows and gears) 5 might+8 nodes: (Tier six)Raise a civilization to the steam age or middle fantasy industrial age (clockwork and steam engines, guns and fixed bayonets)
Deep in the jungle of Mumlo, amid the sprawling green vines and towering trees sat an arc of dark stone. Like the flickering leaves of the heavy palmed ferns that littered the floor, the stone arc was wet and polished with an unending mist of rain. The heavenly spittle drenched everything and turned even the brightest reds of flowers and fruits into a damp kaleidoscope of colors. Despite the rain and the stormy clouds long hidden by the unbroken canopy and floating islands above, the forest was anything but quiet. Monkeys screeched and birds crowed at one another while even the insects screamed and chattered. It was an orchestra of nature, only to be broken as a light flickered and an electric hum crackled in the eye of the stone arc.
For a moment the forest fell silent as a blasting wave of light flashed and boomed, summoning a rift between the stone fingers of the structure, ripping a hole in reality itself. A nimbus of arcane power followed, spewing an incandescent shower of sparks and otherworldly light - and out stepped a pair of towering metal golems, their vaguely man-shaped steel bodies thundering out from the rift, each wielding a halberd crawling with veins of swirling light. The armored things had no eyes, though they did have faces, heads of metal etched into expressions of permanently, unmoving stoicism.
Behind followed a second pair, then a third, wielding massive unstrung crossbows, and between them all, a man-thing the height of a handful of jugheads, its long, pointed ears flicking in response to the sounds of the jungle. A flowing black-gold robe clad its body, and glowing blue eyes stared out from a pale-skilled face rimmed by long hair black as obsidian, flowing as if carried by a breeze.
“Pop!” A small cotton ball of cloud floated right in front of the elf’s face, letting loose curious crackles and pops.The statues froze - and the elf paused, silently reaching up towards the little ball.
"Hello there, little creature," they whispered, speaking in a breathy, sing-song tone.
[/i]”Crackle.”[/i]
“Dumpling?” A hollow, boy-like voice came ringing through the rain. “Dumpling, where did you go!?”
“Zzt…” The tiny cloud zipped away from the elf and spiraled towards the underbrush where it began to pop wildly. As if answering the call, the owner of the hollow voice came tumbling out of the brush, tripping on a root. With a wooden thud, the boy — or rather boy-sized construct consisting of a wooden frame and large claypot head — landed on what might have been a chin. On his back was a plump and overstuffed rucksack, jangling from the impact.
Dazed, the faceless jug-headed thingamajig tilted where a face might have been up at the procession. The tiny cloudling — likely known as Dumpling — swirled around the jughead, popping hysterically. Once again, the hollow voice echoed with a meek curiosity. “Oh, hello.”
"Hello." The elf replied, their face stretching into a warm smile. Its escort remained silent and unmoving, other than turning their heads to face the jug-headed creature.
"I - we - mean you no harm," they reassured him. It, perhaps? "I am a traveler. A scholar, if you would.And who might you be?"
“I’m Jasper… wait! Travelers!” The jughead leapt to his feet and clasped his wooden fingers together pleadingly. “Do you know the way to Clearwater?”
"I don't know what Clearwater is, even," they chuckled. "A settlement, I assume?"
Jasper stood tall in front of the group, or as tall as he could manage. Even with his wooden chest puffed out and fists on his hips, he stood maybe just a hair taller than half the height of his unknown guests. He nodded. “Clearwater has the closest eternal waterfall and bigjug, I was heading there but I got lost after last night’s storm…” He paused.
“Can you help me find it? You can see over the bushes better than I can.”
"I can help you find it," they nodded, stepping out from between the towering steel soldiers. Lowering themselves to one knee, they held out a single hand. "If you hold my hand, I will be able to find it faster. I can see the path you took to get here."
“Oh, okay.” Jasper agreed before taking the stranger by the hand.
Briefly surprised by Jasper's willingness, the stranger grasped his hand - and into his mind they looked, delving through his memories in an attempt to divine the location of Clearwater, only to discover that Jasper had never been to such a place, but only had tattered tales of the place told to him by his Grandfather. The Jughead was looking up at the stranger with what one could assume was an excited continence.
"...Hmm." The stranger muttered, releasing their grip as they rose to their feet. "You haven't been to Clearwater, have you, Jasper?" They said, still smiling. Strange as this little one was, he seemed friendly, at least - far friendlier than the stranger expected on the other end of a rift.
“No, I always stayed in Grandfather’s hut.” The answer came expectantly, as if answering this question might reveal Clearwater. A moment lingered too long and the Jughead shuffled.
“You’re still going to help me find it, right?” The boy’s question was punctuated by Dumpling.
“Pop!”
"Of course." They smiled again, pushing themselves to their feet after releasing their grip on the construct's hand. "The wildlife here - it isn't dangerous, is it, Jasper?"
“Well sometimes the small creatures take off with your spare parts,” Jasper admitted. “Not often though.”
”Crackle!”
“Shh!” Jasper hissed.
"...Interesting. Where we come from, there are many dangerous creatures - but it is a beautiful place, too." The mage said, glancing about as they pushed themselves back to their full height, searching for any sign of a path. "It seems... Rather pleasant here."
“And it’ll be better now that you’re here,” Jasper answered almost cryptically. “You’re not from here it sounds like, so I bet the people at Clearwater were waiting for you like Grandpa. We should get going!”
"Let's." The mage nodded, stretching out their hand as they began to walk. "Well tell me more about Clearwater, so that I can... Spot it when I see it."
“Oh… yeah I can do that!” Jasper nodded as he skipped after the mage.
Government Form: Mumlo is a scattering of many different settlements and municipalities, almost always under mayoral supervision. A mayor is often chosen from the populace by democratic vote, but there are some cases of mayors inheriting the position from a close friend.
Demographics: Mumlo is almost exclusively filled with the jugheads, though there are rare denizens of the rainforest that could be considered its citizens, such as the bumble stumps.
Population: Small (1 million or less)
---
Plane Description: Mumlo is a massive island amid an endless ocean. A thick jungle sits upon the island and swathes it in greenery and waterfalls. Above the rainforest and adjacent to any high cliffs are small floating islands with their own little rainforests crowned on top.
The flora and fauna that fill the ocean and forest are notably calm and benign. A few notable creatures beyond the usual happen to be cloudlings, tiny cotton ball sized clouds that seek out sugary treats to saturate themselves with, only to rain and give off tiny crackling pops of electricity. Another creature of similar fun nature is the flufflet, a buzzing ball of wool with big eyes and a curious nature.
History: 500 years ago, a clan of sorcerers and wizards escaped to the island of Mumlo. There they set up their utopian society based on their powerful magic. Massive towers and endless cities pushed the rainforest to the barriers of civilization. To upkeep these massive settlements and feed the pride of the wizards that owned them, the Jugheads were made — simple wooden frame automatons with clay heads and the need to drink water to remain active. The jugheads themselves were unable to conduct magic, but instead did every servile job for their masters — from smithing to farming. They were happy to help.
200 years ago, however, a war broke out between the most powerful factions among the wizards and with an explosive finish, they excused their entire ilk from existence, leaving the jugheads and the rainforest all alone. Quickly their settlements fell to ruin — except where maintained by jugheads who were sure their friends were soon to return.
Since some time had gone by since then and there were no longer any mages to fix, maintain, or create new jugheads, the fear of extinction and mortality became real — leading to the current crisis.
Culture and Society:
Jugheads live in simple societies that are often friendly and democratic in nature. Some live in the same hierarchy from the mage days as if waiting for their old friends to return and for life to pick up where it left off, while others moved on to create their own groups. Either way, the vines of the forest overtook the ancient ruins and the jugheads were forced to live in the rubble.
As mortality became apparent, so did the old words of the magisters, particularly when they were told that they did not have souls and as such were exempt from the afterlife. Particularly distressed by this notion, jugheads took to the tradition of collecting the head gears of any broken or dead jughead and to bring them to massive jugheads known as bigjugs that sat immobile under the waterfalls. There, they would toss the gears into the open head of the bigjug in the hopes that the deceased would live on in some way or another.
---
Governance and Politics: For the most part, the jugheads get along really well with one another, and since the only resources they need is water and magic (and there is no way to get magic), there is not much need for a complex government. Because of this, they’ll assign a mayor as needed to help lead group projects but otherwise act autonomously to each other — but keep each others’ feelings in mind, just in case.
Technology and Magic: The jugheads proudly use the technology of old, including crop rotation and the forging of steel. While they also have saved the tomes that the magicians of yore once wrote their secrets in, the words are useless on the jugheads — unable to use magic. Despite this, some artifacts left behind can be of use to the jugheads, most notably any rare artifact that could create more jugheads… but those are mere rumors and speculation, a veritable holy grail among the jugheads.
Military Overview: Beyond the rare encounter with a disgruntled creature of mystical nature often found in folklore rather than real life, there is not much need for a military — let alone weapons. Though the few and far inbetween jughead explorer or adventurer might have a broadsword strapped to their side, though that’s mostly for the symbol of their lifestyle.
---
Additional Info: Some farming communities have been active for the 200 years since the loss of humankind. Jugheads don’t eat food. They are doing this in case someone stops by for dinner.
Episode: A jollyriffic first contact <3 Starring: The Recusant Army and the Astolanian Remote Forces
I
A low and long groan came from Core-Keon, his face screwed up with disgust. The sun of the Termina’s eastern coastline reflected off his metal-pocked face and outlined the features of his comrades. Most were standing up straight while a few slouched, a long march throughout the night still pulsing in their sore legs and feet. A few Eidolon guides had warily joined the group, but otherwise kept their distance.
The scene all around was nothing short of peaceful. Large rolling hills of emerald grass made up most of the view, with the hillocks hiding various dips and valleys up until it stretched closer to the beach. There it turned into a large berm of coarse soil and sand, slowing abruptly to the water-lapped coast below. Dark blue water — very much unlike the stagnant pools of the All’s End Sea — washed lazily over the saturated sand, pushing a small army of hermit crabs to and fro with each breath.
On the wind was the smell of salt and in the ears of the recusant, the calls of shorebirds and gentle songbirds played alongside the whispers of the eastern ocean — it’s only challenger being Core-Keon’s groan. His legs were throbbing under his greaves and he could barely feel his feet. No matter how much he padded the inside of his leather boots with Xo wool, it never felt like enough. He was just glad he didn’t get hungry anymore.
“Damnit Keon,” a tall man known as Core-Faulo quickly snapped. He stood behind Keon, with dark eyes stabbing into the other man’s back. “We all marched the same distance, stop your whining.”
“Yeah?” Keon turned to look over his shoulder, never sure if Faulo was an unlikely friend or just a jerk. “But not all of us have blackmetal feet, you big-mouthed jackass.”
Faulo shot a breath through his nostrils and stabbed a finger against the back of Keon’s cuirass. “It’s not my fault you were given a metal-plated asscheek instead.”
“Core-Faulo!” The bark of Cosi-Werria scattered the bickering as both soldiers stood up perfectly straight. The Cosi stepped beside the two. Like the rest, she was in complete scouting uniform. From leather boots and gloves, to blackmetal greaves, cuirass and pauldrons. Her head was uncovered, letting jet black hair freely fall over her armor. Her hand was ever attached to the hilt of her sheathed blade, a habit a lot of the hard-asses tended to possess.
“Yes, Cosi?” Faulo looked to his officer with as much respect as he could muster.
A small grin cracked on the side of Werria’s lips. “Are you harassing our one-cheeked-wonder once again?”
“Cosi-Werria!” Another voice came bounding onto the scene. The owner was scrambling down one of the grassy hills, an Eidolon guide and another Recusant soldier right behind him. This soldier was wearing his full face-mask, but even so, the excitement in his voice was palpable.
“What is it?” The words were light — Cosi-Werria’s tone seemingly couldn’t help but mirror the excitement.
“Junt-Cailen located the vent, she’s requesting we all meet at her location to begin a full perimeter scan.”
Keon’s face brightened, though he couldn’t help but feel at least a little nervous; he never met the Godstriker before. Faulo shoved a hand against his back, knocking him forward. This time a bubble of anger popped in Keon’s gut and he rolled his eyes. “Hevel’s own, were you always such a dick?”
Faulo simply shrugged, starting his march as if he didn’t do a single thing.
II
Second Generation Prime Days were long. It wasn’t because the work was hard (which it was), or because they worked far from home (which they did), but because they never slept. They never ate. They never relaxed. Second Generation Prime Astalonian platforms had the shared feature of being unable to go into standby mode. This meant that they had to experience every second of their days completely conscious and bored out of their minds.
And bored he was, the Prime who’d taken the name of Biter. You see, he had been assigned to one of the worst types of missions available to the Servant Armada… That of Vent Maintenance.
Vent Maintenance was simple, right? You were given a bunch of system upgrades that allowed you to perform highly skilled tasks and directly control two wings of drones, and then you were sent off on a predetermined route to check up on a given number of vents, to make sure they were working well enough to not cause a catastrophe.
The issue was that expedition-grade drones needed to charge for eight hours a day, and guess who had to wait sitting around doing nothing while the drones soaked in the godlight? Exactly.
His current route had taken him almost an entire year so far, and the next Vent was the last one he had to check before going back home to Astalon to check up on his descendants.
Three hundred and five days of walking and fault finding… It was at times like those that Biter missed having an organic body, one that could sigh.
About time now, he thought as he felt the first of the drones booting up. Full charge, it reported. Before the others woke up from their long nap, Biter squatted down, grabbed a pebble from the ground and stuck it into his mouth. With a powerful bite, he crushed the pebble and caused it to let off a few multicolored sparks. The latest A.F.M. System was really pretty handy and went along with his theme, not just because it gave Biter an actual mouth to bite with, but also allowed him to measure the potency of the Aethelic Flow wherever he was. Useful when one’s job involves tracking Flow Blockages for a living.
AETHELIC FLOW BUILDUP DETECTED. TWO THOUSAND SEVENTY SIX METERS BELOW, SEVEN HUNDRED EIGHTY FIVE NORTH NORTH WEST.
One last fault to fix and then he could go home, Biter thought. Then the rest of the drones came back online and assumed formation. All 7 Guardians formed an arrowhead above the treetops, and all 7 Engineers trailed behind Biter himself as he shifted into a quadruped form, then they shot off towards the Vent nearby.
III
Core-Keon stood in shock. To his left was the half of his scouting squad, and to the right was Faulo and his other half, but in front of him stood the fabled Junt-Cailen, the warriors discussing something with Cosi-Werria. Cailen wore the uniform of the leadership, her entire body covered in plates of blackmetal save for her blazing eyes and oddly enough everything below her elbows. She was unique in that she didn’t carry a blade on her, instead being renowned for the use of her fists, that of which were naturally plated in metal by her infection.
The spectacle of seeing Cailen for the first time almost overshadowed the discovery of the vent for Keon, but in the end he couldn’t help but notice the strange metallic grate, a hot hiss of air ripping through it and causing the wild moss that dressed it’s perimeter to shake with life. Already, the logistics core had placed several large wooden crates by the vent, and Keon could only assume the parts for the tabular dial were enclosed within.
As exciting as meeting the Junt was, the realization that this would be the easternmost vent in current Recusar territory was not lost on Keon, his mind already piecing together what the tabular dial would look like hovering above the vent — not that he had any idea what it looked like. He frowned. Or did.
His observation of the Logistics Core ended abruptly as he caught sight of his comrades pointing up at the sky. As soon as Keon himself craned his head up he saw seven identical trails of white smoke painting the sky. They weren’t clouds.
Muffled, hurried whispers came from the group around Cosi-Werria. The Cosi herself stared up at the skies, as if expecting something to come crashing down. Keon’s hands started to sweat and without realizing it, he rested his left hand on the hilt of his blade.
Then a sound like thunder rolled over the land.
Many flinched and covered their ears, while others like Cosi-Werria and the famous Godstriker held fast. In his entire career, he’d never seen his superiors as tense as now. He had never seen them holding so tightly onto the hilts of their sheathed weapons, or seen the subtle way their fingers shook in the case of Junt-Cailen. Though Keon couldn’t tell if the Godstriker’s fingers were shaking in fear or excitement.
A distant hum grew closer and closer, until even Keon could tell that it wasn’t just one hum, but seven. Closer and closer, until he heard both the hums and the whirring.
“Do not move a muscle.” Called out the Godstriker.
Seven figures burst forth from the canopies of the trees to the southwest. They were made of metal, they were loud, they floated, and they all trained their sights on different members of the expedition. Their shapes all differed slightly but they all had a single round eye at their front, which glowed a bright and angry red.
Keon froze, his eye meeting one of the flying automatons’ as it observed him closely. That gaze made his legs feel like they were made of stone. The smoke that began to trail out of the holes of both barrels that lined the flying automaton’s undercarriage lit up all the warning signs in his brain. Do not move, Keon thought as hard as he could, for Hevel’s sake do not move!
His peripheral vision caught movement. All the automatons caught it too.
The sound of a blade being unsheathed. A hiss of smoke. An intense hum as the automatons all turned. It was Core-Faulo.
“NO ONE THREATENS US! ATTA-”
It was as if the very air shattered. A deafening cacophony of thunder after thunder, explosion after explosion rang out. Keon’s eardrums nearly popped. Most of the Logistics Cores’ screamed. Keon himself took a step back, stumbled, and fell onto his backside.
A foot hit someone in the face. An arm shot up and entangled itself in a tree. Rotten organs splattered and covered Keon and three others in their blackened juices. A dented metal skull fell through the grates of the vent.
All that remained of Core-Faulo were pieces, his anchor ripped apart. A stray bullet had taken a piece of Cosi-Werria’s face off, but the hiss of her smoke was already slowly repairing her fractured skull and relining her face — the Cosi not even flinching.
“First protocol!” The order went up. Keon could hear his old training Cosi’s words, Protocol One: no quarter. A silence that lasted only a fraction of a second punctuated the change — ending with the cacophony of blades being drawn and battlecries rattling the ground. Metallic boots slammed down and recusant soldiers launched through the air towards their prey. The wind hissed by Keon’s own eyes as he followed behind the Junt.
Streaks of fire followed bullets and flashes of metal blinded the periphery as the two vanguard’s clashed. Smoke hissed for every bullet that punched through the flesh of a recusant and the scream of tearing metal followed every sword strike against the drones. One such drone flew by Keon, but he was quicker and managed to stab out with his blade, knocking it off course and putting a heavy dent into it. The machine wobbled, guns firing haphazardly into the sky — only to stop as a blackmetal fist came plowing through it’s form, launching sparks in every direction.
The ominously steady gaze of Junt-Cailen burned into Keon’s memory as she stood there with a drone impaled on her right arm, the fire of battle raging behind her. In his astonishment, Keon barely noticed Cosi-Werria spinning wildly behind the Junt, her twin blades whirring through enemy after enemy — until reaching a taller robot in a humanoid form; a prime.
IV
GUARDIAN 6 OFFLINE
GUARDIAN 3 OFFLINE
CRITICAL DAMAGE INCOMING.
Sparks flew and explosions ensued. The smoke momentarily enveloped the leaping Recusant’s body and when she finally emerged closer to him, her body was covered in grievous burns and cuts.
Both cooling fans on his back spewed forth fire as he forcefully engaged all the vitae in his body. He shot his left arm up. One of the twin blades sunk into his reinforced metallic chassis and with a single step he threw the homuran off balance. He parried the second blade and with a single move he unsheathed his own blade and cleaved off both of the Recusant’s arms.
The smoke-flesh fell to the ground and smoke hissed out of the Recusant’s stumps.
Only two of his Guardians remained… In a moment of respite, he caught a glimpse of a heavily battered Guardian on the other side of the clearing. With a single thought, all seven Engineers under his control rushed out of hiding and towards that drone. Four of them crashed into the Recusant soldiers, and the other three retrieved the drone. There’s no need for you to die a second time, boy.
A male Recusant jumped down from a tree, landing on Biter’s back and nearly knocking him down. A long dagger dug deep into his thorax. He let out a demon-like wail as he felt the tip getting stuck on his core’s shielding. The last Guardian drone, rather than continuing to defend itself, turned and shot a single explosive bullet at the Recusant on Biter’s back.
The Recusant’s stabbing hand exploded in a shower of smoke and Biter’s visor cracked under the shockwave. In that instant, he turned his head around completely and bit half of the Recusant’s neck out.
The stealthy Recusant fell to the death-stained ground with a gurgle and wide bloodshot eyes, until Biter stomped on his chest, crushing his Anchor.
The buzz of electricity and an ensuing explosion alerted Biter to the destruction of his last Guardian, and so he stood straight up and stared at the approaching Recusant soldiers.
Biter had been keeping count. With just himself and seven Guardians, they had managed to reduce the Recusant squadron to one third strength. He felt nothing as he looked at the carnage spread all over the area. There was no blood, only smoke and rotting bodies.The Recusant were not truly alive, and therefore deserved no empathy.
His Central Pump roared as he fired his Vitae up once more, this time to push the blade stuck in his left arm. It shot out and buried itself in the Twin bladed Recusant’s torso.
His grip tightened around the hilt of his long blade.
“Seventeen down, ten to go.” He said, his voice box distorted. Out of the ten remaining Recusant, only one was confident enough to approach. She was a fist-fighter, capable of punching through reinforced metal plating, and something about the way she walked seemed familiar…
V
Cosi-Werria fell off to the Prime’s side, arms severed and a blade sticking out of her stomach, but otherwise completely alive and unharmed. Junt-Cailen could see that there was the energy of health still in the Cosi’s eyes, but between her and the Godstriker herself was the final enemy, a prime. Without wasting any time, Junt-Cailen fell into her stance.
She shifted her feet and squared her shoulders, cocking her elbows and bringing her fists up in a martial pose. Fire still scorched the wild grasses around her, making the final battlefield a charred and burning valley between two helpless hillocks.
The prime seemed to hesitate once Godstriker fell into her pose, but instead of thinking too much on it — Cailen let loose a fist. Biter went to dodge, but the fist Cailen threw froze halfway — a feint — her other arm came in a wide arc, giving the prime just enough time to leap back from the strike… or so he thought.
A third punch was thrown, this one straight and bearing the Junt’s entire weight behind it as she stepped forward and gave a powerful shout. Thrusting like a piston, her fist plowed into the Prime’s chest and blasted through every layer of circuitry and shielding with a disarray of sparks until her metal hand came exploding out the back of the robot.
Cailen’s face was mere inches from Biter’s as she held her final stance — but his body was unresponsive, his core clutched in the fingers of the fist that had impaled him, wires rattling with excess energy. Godstriker could feel the metallic body go limp against her arm — it was over.
Recusant Date 1.2.13 Initial battle report Eastern expeditionary lands Junt-Cailen in opposition of Biter
Auxiliary fragment of the 1st logistic core successfully locate the vents designated V3 on the Eastern Coast by the hillocks designated S1. Auxiliary fragment successfully deliver their tabular dial to the site under the supervision of Junt-Cailen the Godstriker.
Shortly after delivery, the second generation Prime known as Biter (an engineering prime) and his squadron stumble upon the expedition and a skirmish broke out. Sixteen of the twenty-seven recusants were killed in action (a seventeenth lost their anchor to a blast, but remained intact outside of the body, their anchor is being shipped back to Leadership for proper regeneration) while the entire Prime escort, including Biter, were neutralized. The vent location has been secured and set up of the dial is underway.
Suggested retraining of forces to better handle explosive rounds and reconfiguring chest blast shields to prevent penetration.
Request reinforcements for proper settlement.
Biter’s core to be relocated to Leadership control.
Witnessed, written, authorized, Cosi-Werria of the 1st Logistics
Outside the main keep of Keltra but still behind the exterior walls, the ten recusant soldiers that made up the Keltra Vanguard Garrison were scattered. Two sat off to the corner, eyes closed and a gentle hum on their throats. Their masks were removed, revealing metal scarred faces. With hands outstretched towards each other, a pool of recusar smoke hazed above them, metal fragments moving in the swirls like liquid. One was Core-Garren, a fit young man trained in wisp-welding, the other was Core-Ophi, his twin and fellow welder. Though they were first generation recusants, their homuran mold ended up being identical except for gender, making them one of the first recusant twins.
In front of them, armed and masked, was Core-Naulty, his weapon drawn. Across the way from Naulty were most of the others being led by Cosi-Dern. They were marking areas of grass with notches made into the ground by sword. Apostate was nowhere to be seen, as well as Core-Xan and Core-Soth, the three allegedly out for a walk.
“We can use stone to lay the foundation,” Dern was saying to Core-Veldin. The woman’s mask hung off of her hip as she listened, showcasing that she was missing her left eye to a rash of blackmetal, her bottom lip cleaved with a strip of the same material. He pointed to the outer wall of Keltra, it’s interior face right next to them. “We’ll use the existing wall as a backing to save resources.”
“Understood,” Veldin answered, a slight lisp in her serious tone. Dern pinched the bottom of his mask and thought for a moment.
“Can you measure the paces along the far wall? Maybe we could save even more resources by making the barracks long and curving along with the wall.”
“Of course.” Veldin nodded before spinning on her heel. With purpose she walked off from Dern and the others, her working eye settled on the far side, a good fifty feet away from everyone else. A small pool of sky lilies sat at her destination, fluttering to life whenever a small breeze sank into the area. Instinctively, and mirroring a common trait of Apostate, she rested her hand on the hilt of her blade as she walked.
Scuffing to a stop, Veldin pushed the lilies with her boot. She cleared her throat and gave the pile of flowers a serious look. Her working eye rolled to the side and she glanced over her shoulder — her comrades were deep in their own work, too busy to be looking her way. Looking back at the small pile of pink petals, Veldin quickly kicked them up into a plume, smiling at the display.
The petals caught the breeze and started to flutter away, taking Veldin’s short enjoyment along with it. With the area mostly clear of the funny little flowers, Veldin put her hand on the cold wall of Keltra and set her boots along its side. Clicking her front front heel to her back foot toe she started to pace out the steps of the wall.
“Core-Veldin!” Dern’s voice called out.
“Yes?”
“We misewell get a full measurement, mark were you started and head the other way until you loop back to us.”
Veldin looked down at her feet, only four paces in. The prospect of walking the entire outer wall suddenly felt daunting, but she looked up with resolve — not that Dern was looking at her. “Very well.”
The soldier turned around and started pacing in the opposite direction, one hand brushing the wall as she walked.
“One…”
“Two…”
….
“One-hundred and Seventy.”
It was monotone at the start and now without the view of her comrades, it was even more monotone. The interior grass was all the same, and the sky lilies were too far and inbetween to provide too much entertainment. Verdin almost felt like she had been walking in place this entire time, and if the keep itself hadn’t been cube but rather circular, she figured there would have been little to tell her otherwise. That is, with the exception of the miniature encampment that was slowly coming to view further up ahead consisting of a tiny canopy nestled up against the wall and a set of ropes heading up onto the ledges above.
“... Two-hundred and Ninety Three.” She muttered as she finally reached the canopy, held up by flimsy wooden sticks and made up of several large red leaves. Below it laid a small figure curled into an even smaller ball. It was a young, olive-skinned girl who wore a spotless white and gold dress, with a long furry cat tail and a pair of twitchy feline-like ears on top of her head. She slept peacefully, the only sound coming from her being that of her slow breathing and the occasional murmur, squeak or whimper.
“Oh,” Verdin said, curious. She recognized the little girl from description. Thoughtfully, she was about to step around the canopy but then froze — that would ruin her pace count. She needed to walk under the structure. “Shit.”
She marked the ground where she stood with a quick notch of her sword. “Two-hundred and Ninety Three.” She named the mark before stepping away from it and putting her weapon away. Gulping, she crouched next to the sleeping girl.
“Erm. Lorelei.” Her lisp made the name come out peculiar, almost as ‘low-ah-lay.’ She tried saying it slower. “Lorelei.”
“Hhrmmm…” Lorelei groaned softly, rolling onto her other side with a yawn and a quick wipe at the corner of her mouth. She shivered a little and muttered, her left eyebrow twitching a couple times. “... Gray...”
“Lorelei.” Verdin hesitated a moment before prodding the girl with her bandaged finger, making her jump a little before opening her eyes. “Excuse me.”
Lorelei yawned again and rubbed at her eyes. Her hair was disheveled, her ears pointed in completely different directions and drool stained one of her grass-marked cheeks. Groggily, she sat up and squinted her eyes at the mask dangling off of Verdin’s hip.
“I need to step through here,” Verdin said. “I’ll only be a few seconds, then you can go back to napping, deal?”
The girl’s squinty eyes darted back and forth several times between the mask and Verdin’s face. “Y… You’re not P-Primes?”
“No, I’m Core-Verdin, a recusant soldier.” Verdin stabbed a thumb into her chest, punctuating her introduction.
“Mm…” Lorelei nodded after a moment and stepped out from under her canopy. “What’re you d-doing?”
“Measuring the wall.” Verdin answered as she swapped places with Lorelei, hunching under the canopy. She realigned her feet with her mark from earlier and started again. She got seven paces through the canopy before she was out on the other side. Kicking the ground with her boot, she marked the 200 pace mark and turned to Lorelei. “Thank you.”
“Would you like some assistance then?” Pride asked, as she announced her presence from behind Verdin, where she had stood silent and still until speaking.
Verdin flinched, her fingers clenching and unclenching. Stiff, the soldier turned to Pride. She blinked her working eye. “Do you already have a circumference measured out?”
“I have walked across the entirety of Keltra. I’d be happy to share its measurement, if you’d like.” Pride answered, offering the soldier a small bow - before looking past her and at Lorelei with a content smile.
“That would be great,” Verdin answered. Folding her arms behind her back she awaited the measurements. “I assume this is at your pace?”
Pride tilted her head as she considered the question, even resting her chin on one hand while she hummed. “Hmm… I’ve counted my steps as I walked, which seem equal to your own divided by two and a half, so through simple mathematics we can ascertain how many of your paces I’ve walked. You’re seeking the perimeter of the keep’s exterior which is twenty one thousand, one hundred and twenty of my steps. If we divide that number by two and a half, we come to eight thousand, four hundred and forty-eight paces.”
“Are you sure?” Verdin couldn’t help but raise a skeptical brow. “Maybe it would be safer if I just finished my pacing.”
“You’re currently at two percent completion regarding your task then. There are still eight thousand, two hundred and forty-eight paces to go. I also wouldn’t recommend keeping track of the doors; Mother often changes their locations and sizes.” The small champion said, as she walked past Verdin and stood next to Lorelei, who seemed unsure on who to look at.
Crossing her arms, Verdin stood up perfectly straight. “I’m getting the feeling like this is going to be a pain in the ass. Do the perimeter sizes ever change or just the doors?”
Pride crossed her arms as she pondered again. “Hmm… I’ve never seen the keep itself alter its size, but the outer wall has opened and closed before. I’m afraid the shape of Keltra isn’t something I get to decide. Speaking of which, did Apostate bring you all this?”
Pride then turned to Lorelei, and gestured with a hint of bemusement to the small encampment that had been setup. “Oh!” Lorelei perked up, “No. I made it all. Dead sticks, l-leaves, y’know!” She said with a sheepish smile.
“One of life’s greatest mysteries is how you always keep finding so many things to build here. I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me come up with ideas on what to build in the future. I’m no architect, but it’s my intention that Keltra would have a great many sights and wonders to behold.” Pride proceeded to ask, with a meek mixture of modesty and excitement, and then holding out her hand towards Lorelei, which Lorelei grabbed with a grin of her own.
“Cosi-Dern and the others are mapping out the fore area for barracks, armory and welding locations,” Core-Verdin stated with a puff of smoke. “Well, I suppose it’s only the fore area for now… We’ll have to ask Homura for her plans, so we can build stable structures.” A thought occurred to Verdin.
“But while I have you both here, I ask that you stay away from any welding.”
Pride glanced at Verdin with a raised brow. “When you say welding, what exactly do you mean?”
“Making metal hot and pushing it together, p-probably.” Lorelei explained, her grip on Pride’s hand loosening a little as she started to clean her face and fix her hair.
Verdin nodded her head. “The manipulation of metals, correct.”
“So be it. Are you still planning to continue your task now?” Pride inquired, turning her attention primarily upon Verdin to avoid chuckling at the sight of Lorelei.
“Not with the knowledge that the fortress can change at whim, I’ll have to report the findings to Cosi-Dern before deciding our next steps.” Verdin paused, hesitating with a finger poised. “I just really want to go over this one more time, just to make sure both of you understand for posterity. Please do not approach any welders or be present at any welding stations. It’s not a simple ‘so be it’ situation, your presence around the recusar smoke could chance infection. This is your formal notice.”
“C-Can I watch if I wear my suit? It filters the air.” Lorelei asked hopefully.
“I can’t guarantee your safety, but that might be enough,” Verdin answered honestly. “Just note that you’re watching at your own risk.” The soldier tapped her left eye, finger panging against the blackmetal that grew over the mutilated area. “You could lose an eye.”
“Eeeh!” Lorelei took a step back while scrunching up her face, “T-That’s some really intense welding!”
“Indeed it is.” Verdin looked at Pride. “Do you also understand?”
“I’m well aware of the dangers you’ve brought here. You needn’t concern yourself with me, Core-Verdin.” The small champion answered, before she simply sighed, and looked back at Lorelei and casually shrugged.
Verdin frowned and stepped back into Pride’s line of sight. “Not to be stubborn, but we are supposed to be working together. I just need confirmation that you understand what I’m telling you.”
The smaller girl nodded and stole a sideways glance at Pride. “S-She does! She’s just being…” Lorelei chuckled, “Y’know.”
It was Verdin’s turn to let loose a long sigh. Tucking a frown into her cheek, she nodded. “I know…”
Pride shook her head with frustration in response. “Hmph, how amusing. As I’ve said, I understand. And, now my sister advocates such, so will you continue to pester me with the same question until Mother or Uncle comes and tells you the same?”
“You’re just a very mean person, aren’t you?” The words were more of a statement than a question. Verdin’s frown grew and she turned away from the Champion. “Well, either way it was nice meeting you, Lorelei. I’m sorry for disturbing your nap.” She started to walk away, and held up a hand.
“If either of you have any questions, feel free to ask any one of us.” There was a pause. “We are at least willing to work with others.”
“I remember when they were all just nice, quiet, and sleeping. They also weren’t so rude back then.” Pride remarked, looking past Verdin to the corner where hidden on the other side soldiers gathered and did their work, marking various locations and spewing forth their smoke. She was most uncertain how she felt about their presence.
“You’re being mean, Pride. Keltra is supposed to be a S-Sanctuary, isn’t it? How can it be a Sanctuary if tall people aren’t allowed in?” She asked with a pout.
“They didn’t come here seeking shelter… Lorelei. Hmm… you’re right, I’m being mean. I can’t help it, these fools have come here acting like this is their home when everything they do seems to bring Keltra closer and closer to destruction. I’d rather they leave, but I’m not so mean as to just banish them all of a sudden.” Pride answered, eyes shifting back and forth with thoughts as she explained herself before she became overwhelmed by both pondering too much and fatigue.
Lorelei huffed and shrugged, flicking her tail violently a couple times. “Wanna go p-plan out the things we want to add to Keltra?”
“I think I’d like that very much.” Pride replied with a small smile.
The soldiers are building welding and barrack stations. We meet Core-Verdin more intimately and find out that Pride is still a stuck up ho about everything. Lorelei backs Verdin up like a homie and the post ends with Pride and Lorelei talking about interior design.
Oh also high levels of recusar smoke (such as during welding) is contagious.
When Hevel awakened the sleeping humans that Homura had gifted him, he empowered and kickstarted their waking lives with his divine energy; however, while doing so, the God forgot about the infectious nature of his presence. Unbeknownst to Hevel at the time, he had infected every last human with a phenomena later deemed the recusar infection.
Hevel himself didn’t notice the infection starting to take hold until the day he met Arvum, when under the pressures of the god of agriculture, the humans reacted independently against Arvum’s grasp whilst showcasing the basic symptoms of the infection: such as exhaling black smoke, and aggressively defiant behaviour. While this concerned the god, it wasn’t until after his meeting with Homura that the limits of the infection became clear.
An unknown interloper had come and went, undetected by any — but left a lasting mark on the infected. Whatever this divine rogue had done, it greatly pushed forward the rate of infection, making it impossible for the humans to ignore it any longer. One day, they started feeling bolder and more confident. Their need to drink or even eat faded away alongside any notions of sleep. On top of that, lacerations from a long day at work stopped drawing blood — in fact no one could bleed anymore. Any injury would hiss that black smoke and close up on its own. What was more alarming was that different people started to age at drastically different speeds, with pregnancies changing in gestation. Even only being alive for a matter of weeks, already a baby had been born in full health, just as mutated as the others.
As concerned as Hevel, some of the humans consented to harmless observations and anatomy studies. The god used his divine senses to analyse the slowly changing creations of Homura and discovered a startling fact. Indeed, every organ in the bodies of the humans was now vestigial and dead, in fact the very flesh had changed composition — each cell was made of that black smoke, cleverly mimicking flesh and not so cleverly replacing bone with the blackmetal of Hevel. While the god found every organ dead, he couldn’t help but notice one organ was missing entirely — the heart.
Instead of finding a beating heart, Hevel found something much more concerning. In the chest of every human of the garden he found a beating shard of twisted metal akin to his own. Each had its own rhythm, some slow and some fast — some quickly deteriorating and thus causing age, others taking an extremely slow pace. He quickly surmised that this was the sole source of energy in these humans, their only vital spot. Through hypotheticals and divine visions, Hevel further observed that because of this, the infected creatures before him would no longer suffer the fatality of exsanguination or loss of limbs — with each appendage slowly hissing back together. Not even beheadings stopped this fact, no, this meant that the only vital and fatal blow left for these people was their anchor.
It was no longer right to call them human, Hevel and his people thought the same. They were no longer the creation of Homura, but creatures of the smoke — they had become the Recusant.
At first, Hevel was mortified and guilty, but little did he know that the Recusant also inherited pieces of his personality and desires. Intrigued, he listened to them speak and soon learned that they didn’t hate him for their mutations, nor did they despise how it turned out. Most notably, the woman who had punched Arvum spoke out and told him that she, along with her friends, didn’t wish to simply survive on the Galbar at the whims of whatever powers that be, but to take the fight to the front like Hevel himself alongside him. Quickly, the god rectified such an organization of the Recusant by applying a loose style of peer-leadership, and allowed any willing soul to join the movement — or leave — as desired… thus the Recusant Army was born.
Of course, every army needs equipment, and as fortune favored, the infection brought along a little bit of Hevel’s own ability to manipulate the smoke within and create the dark metal. He named the ones skilled in the manipulation of the smoke, Wispwelders, and taught them to forge a massive anvil on which to work it. While it took many Recusant to make only a single blade of dark metal manually, Hevel gave the Army leadership plans before he left to check in on Lorelei, plans for a factory powered by…
“Junt-Cailen.” A slim looking man stood at the entrance to the Junt’s home. He held a big smile on his face, the creases of his grin moving a sea of metallic freckles on his right cheek. Inside the soil walled home sat Junt-Cailen the God-puncher. She was sitting on a wooden stool by her open hearth. Both her hands glistened a metallic sheen against the fire and her eyes flared with ambition.
“Core-Indel” She greeted with a nod.
“We found a vent.”
It was Cailen’s turn to smile, showcasing her blackmetal teeth. She rose to her feet and gave a groaning stretch. “Well, let’s go secure it then. This war won’t supply itself.”
Quickly put, the Humans that Hevel woke up were infected with the recusar infection. This infection eventually melded into their very cells and transformed them into the Recusant. The Recusant don’t bleed, eat, drink, or sleep. They can only be destroyed by rupturing their anchor, or metallic hearts. Their hearts age at different speeds, with some aging incredibly rapid and others not so much. They retained their human personalities, but also now share many personality traits with Hevel himself. As such, they requested to be organized into a military force, birthing the Recusant Army.
The Recusant army was tasked with finding a vent so they could construct their first blackmetal factory, and here with have Junt-Cailen (Junts are the highest tiered peer leader) being informed by Core-Indel (the most common tier peer) that they have successfully discovered the location of a vent.
Check vigor summary for a breakdown of the recusant’s abilities.
Yesaris and Apostate, total spent: 6 (4 from Apostate, 2 from Yesaris)
Recusar infection, stage 1: 0 vigor (discounted): The humans of Hevel by accidental association with the God of Defiance have laced some of his smoke into their systems. As a result, the population has a tendency for defiance and aggressive emotion. On top of that, when repressed, they can summon a tiny pool of strength to defy the odds .
Recusar infection, stage 2: 2 vigor: The Recusant no longer need to eat, sleep, or drink — their organs having died and their cells converted to condensed smoke and blackmetal mimicking bone and flesh. Smoke exhales from their lungs with each breath.
Recusar infection stage 3: 2 vigor: Metal mottles their skin, they no longer bleed, and their body reconstructs itself around a single anchor (metallic heart). As long as the anchor is intact, the Recusant is alive and able to regenerate missing parts
Recusar infection stage 4: 1 vigor: the lapses of their anchors have chaotically varied times, making some recusant age or even gestate rapidly, while others take much longer. This has resulted in one case of a pregnancy lasting a week before producing a healthy infant infected with the recusar mutations.
Wispwelding: 1 vigor: Recusant are able to concentrate their smoke into objects made of blackmetal, similar to Apostate. This takes a lot of time and strain, usually requiring a lot of Recusants to make a single blade.
Just past the foothills that caressed the Garden’s western border was a veritable range of mountains and crags. Among this range was a clade of ancient spires that were named the Frawkian Mountains by a small kingdom of Dwarves some odd centuries ago — but that’s not important right now. What is important is that among these sister mountains, defined by their wind-scarred heights and sparse vegetation, was a lonely cliff face that faced the dangerous sea to the north.
Broken into the cliff face was a window, a symptom of the vast burrows and tunnels long since bored into the body of the mountain, and from this window, one could watch the crashing waves and witness the churning mists of the darkest and deadliest sea the Galbar had to offer. Though anyone else might feel a sense of dread or even doom at the sight of the infamous sea, one particular man felt no such thing, but rather used it as a pleasant view for his morning tea.
This man was more of a dwarf than a man, and was named Frawk — not to be confused with the great hero that founded the kingdom this cliff sat in — Frawk (this Frawk) was a hermit. He lived alone, or so any other dwarf would tell you. They would also say he spends all his hours and all his minutes crafting simple arts that were useless to the pragmatic, but he always did so with a gentle smile.
His face was about square, his nose was pocked with age, and his cheeks were rashed. In total, he looked more like the face of a fruit than a man — or dwarf. While his visage might be considered homely, whatever his hands created was anything but.
Frawk sat at his dining room table. It was carved of stone and yet it was done so fancifully, it could have been mistaken for wood — as could his chair. Simple runes decorated the edges of the furniture, black as if it was burned into it — but again, that was simply the trick of his skill. On the table was a kettle of glass, which was actually once again just stone, shaved to such a small width that it was translucent. It matched his tea cup, but not his tea plate — which he had curiously carved his own bubbling smile onto.
He sat by his window, feeling the ocean air coming pushing in and out of his small little home, but he didn’t sit alone. Across from him sat his wife — an identical cup of tea cradled in her hands, though the liquid was untouched and cold. One might wonder how a hermit who lives alone could have a wife, but this one did — if not with a catch. Oh no, nothing disturbing or dangerous or uncomfortable — his wife was very much alive and very much inlove with Frawk, and by her own will, I’ll add.
To get back to the story, she sat there across from him, a simple content smile on her face — and what a face it was. She was the definition of beautiful. Frawk’s wife was the most stunning Eidolon woman anyone might have ever seen. Her body was curvaceous and her face marked with freckles in all right spots so as to highlight her gentle cheeks and coaxing eyes. She wore a gown that seemed half as graceful as she was whenever she moved, despite its superior quality. One might notice though, after hours upon hours of study and after hours upon hours of being lost in her beauty, that she too was of stone — another artwork set by Frawk’s own hand.
Despite all this, she loved him just the same and he loved her. Her name was Gala, and while she herself couldn’t open her mouth to enjoy the tea along with her husband, she very much liked to hold the cup and pretend. Gala found it much more intimate if she could at least make believe she had certain capabilities she didn’t have, and oftentimes it was as simple as holding a cup.
“Have you heard about what’s been happening in the valley?” Frawk asked Gala, knowing very well she rarely went that far from home. The stone woman was silent for a moment, before reaching out with a hand.
“Could you hand me my thoughtful face, dear?” Her voice was liquid silk.
Frawk slapped a pile of stone masks onto the table and began to hastily filter through them, until he found one that mimicked Gala’s face if not adding a cocked brow and thoughtful purse of the lips. He handed it over and the woman gently placed it over her visage.
“Hmm,” she thought out loud. “No, I can’t say I have.”
Frawk sipped at his tea and leaned back in his chair. “They say an entirely new group of people have arrived.”
“Ah yes!” Gala dropped her thoughtful mask, opting for her natural gentle smile. “The Ekotone.”
“No, no!” Frawk waved a hand, and Gala quickly slapped on a mask of surprise. “Newer than Eidolons, even! They were brought in on giant machines and now dwell in the garden with the brooding warrior.”
“Oh my,” Gala swapped back to her thinking mask. “That certainly is a big change. I didn’t know the brooding man was interested in any company.”
“Other than the small child that he had brought there that one time.”
“I believe that was his daughter, dear.” Gala corrected.
Frawk tilted his head in suspicion. “That’s merely our assumption, of course.”
“Of course.” Gala agreed, making sure to wear a mask that contained an eye roll.
“There’s more though,” Frawk continued. “I took it upon myself to take a stroll down there the other day.”
“Was that three days ago?” Gala sat up straight. “I had wondered where you went off too for so long, and when the dishes needed to be done as well!”
“Dear, please,” guilt etched on Frawk’s face.
Gala crossed her arms, but not before putting on a stern mask. “Dear, please, nothing! You’re doing the dishes tonight, then!”
“Fine, fine, but can I finish my story?”
The stern mask dropped and Gala sat back in her chair, bringing her cup to her stone lips with a clank. “Of course, dear.”
“Infection!” Frawk all but blurted, not sure how to enter this part of his story.
A confused mask found Gala’s face. “Infection?”
“There are rumors jumbling about, that the people there are infected with some sort of incredible disease. I heard it from one of them while I was sulking about, looking for stones by the shore.” Frawk placed his empty cup down. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but from the sounds of it, a lot of the people are feeling strange pains in their stomachs and hearts — and their skin itches. Some are saying that they stopped feeling the pain altogether, but are feeling something else, something new.”
Gala fumbled her pile of masks. “Oh, shit.” she cursed as she sorted through them all to find one struck in suspense. Clearing her throat (well you get what I mean) she slapped the suspenseful mask on. “Something new!?”
Frawk held his mouth open, but no words came out. The sly smile of a storyteller found his plum cheeks and he sat back in his seat. “I guess we will just have to wait and see.”
Oh boy. I’m actually very disappointed you’re reading this for a post like this. But anyway, the only important bit here is that there are rumors spreading around the Garden of Hevel that the humans there are infected with a strange disease that is potentially causing pains in various organs only to suddenly stop hurting in the more developed patients.
Also we meet Frawk and Gala, a lovely husband and wife — dwarf and golem.
Farwaen walked behind Hafface, his eyes studying her intently. She was rather weak looking and though she walked with purpose through the forest, he couldn’t help but notice her clumsy footfalls. He could only assume her parents were of a weaker stock — and noticing the abundance of lumber all around and the lack of the danger of the plains, he could think of why. Even still, he knew she was his guide to his quest, and beyond his judgement all he could feel was appreciation for her humble acceptance of his presence.
“Thank you once again,” He called out to her, causing her to flinch. The spattering of greens surrounded them as silence dominated the area following his voice. It took her a moment before she replied, much more carefully and quieter than he was speaking.
“Why are you following me?”
He frowned, clearly he wasn’t clear. “I’m on a quest.”
Hafface stopped to look at the Eidolon.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Farwaen gave a sheepish grin. “I don’t know where my quest is.”
“Remember my second question?” Hafface asked.
Farwaen opened his mouth, but before he could get an answer out, the roar of a bear came trampling through the underbrush. The serene noises of the forest were replaced with heavy growls and snapping branches. A massive beast of brown fur and teeth burst out of the green foliage — Farwaen’s eyes doubling in size, and a rattling scream coming from Hafface.
Instinctively, Farwaen punched out with his shield, catching the beast twice his size on its rim. His arm felt no weight thanks to the magical properties of his bulwark, leaving the bear snapping its jaws around the edge of the shield. Farwaen’s surprised expression turned to one of deadly seriousness.
“By Hevel…” he swore. Blinking eyes of all sizes were twinkling all around the scene and beasts of many sizes were emerging from the dark forest. Even the songbirds above began to circle angrily, screaming revenge at the trespassers. They were surrounded. Farwean bit down and bared his teeth at the salivating bear.
“See me through my battles, oh Lord.” His prayer was a growl. Hafface dove behind the knight and Farwaen’s blade flashed, catching the sun. All at once, the forest charged.
Farwaen stabbed out with his blade, slipping by his shield and dispatching the bear with a clean strike through the lung. The bear fell off his bulwark and he spun in time to use the edge of the circular shield to break the neck of a barking wolf. Without losing focus, he swung his blade around, slicing through a hovering songbird and landing into the neck of a deer with a fleshy thunk.
Squirrels bounded off the tree branches, tiny teeth and claws aimed for the Knight and his ward. Farwaen caught three on his shield, one with a stab of his sword, and bucking out his head, he knocked another one clean out of the sky. His boot came down to finish the beast with a splatter, putting him back into a fighting stance.
Wolves were circling him now and deer were stamping the ground. Farwaen gave a bestial roar and not waiting for his enemy, he brought the fight to them. Hafface screamed about something Farwaen couldn’t see, his vision as red as his sword as he dove in. He dodged a bite, uppercutted the jaw of a buck with the handle of his blade, drove a wolf to the ground with a stomp on the head, and brought his bulwark down to decapitate it. Blood sprayed and another wolf came snapping at his legs, but Farwaen was quick to strike its nose with his elbow, spinning to drive the point of his blade through its back and out it’s stomach.
The scene was painted red as more and more of the forest’s denizens attacked the knight with a maddened fury that could only be described as supernatural, but Farwaen was unshaken. He danced among the macabre scene, scoring the trees with the blood and flesh of his enemy, until at last the only sound left was Farwaen yanking his blade from the skull of a moose.
“Ha…” Farwaen mocked, only to spin on his heel and strike out with his blade. A sneaky polecat was now impaled on the end of it, the rest of the blade struck into a tree. Keeping pose, he looked over at the reddened Hafface. The elf was peeking up at the warrior through her fingers, only her face free of speckled sanguine.
She sputtered her words. “The… Beast Queen…”
“Beast Queen?” Farwaen pulled his blade free and gave it a flick, spraying blood off the sleek metal. He gave it one more flick before sliding it back into its scabbard.
“You want a quest?” Hafface found her resolution. “Then I think I have one for you. Come with me, I’ll bring you to Noetal. He knows everything there is to know.”
-0-
Along the outskirts of Masol’s settlement there was a house of sticks. While nothing should be noteworthy about such a thing, the house of sticks was one of a kind among the elves. It consisted of poles driven into the ground, then woven together with smaller branches. Curved to a round top, the entire home was complete and a blanket of moss was cut to curtain the entrance. Most unique about such a structure, though, was that it was much too small to contain a pile of elves.
Inside it’s soil smelling walls was only a single elf. He was a tall elf with a prominent nose and serious face. Something in how he stood showcased both a strict demeanor and a strong distaste for caring about his surroundings — in so much that he didn’t care for the politics or company of the other elves. Besides that, his seemingly tired eyes were hiding the glint of intelligence he was known for in the earlier days of the elves, before he retired to his house of sticks.
Being so insular in his behavior, Noetal had long since lost his shallow friends and the companionship of most of the village. One such exception was his good friend Hafface, to whom he never ostracized for her ugly scar, but rather enjoyed her seperatist way of thinking. It was hard to say how much he cared for her, but he did sample small smiles and grins whenever she was around, amused by her antics and pleased by her company.
It was at such a moment that he should have been smiling as he was looking right at her, but he wasn’t, since he was horrified…
“What happened!?” He all but screeched, standing at the entrance to his tiny home, his eyes glued on the blood pasted Hafface and her Eidolon companion.
“Ho.” Farwaen greeted and stabbed his blade into the ground before kneeling behind it. He tilted his head so that it met the cold pommel. “I am the Knight known as Farwaen.”
“He came from the sky,” Hafface explained quickly, summoning a disgusted look of confusion from Noetal. “But more importantly, he’s untouchable, and very stupid.”
“Hey!” Farwaen frowned from his kneeling position.
“I think he could be the one to fight the beast queen.”
“Fight the Beast Queen?” Noetal scoffed. “Are you mad?”
Hafface aggressively grabbed Farwaen and stood him up. She pulled on his arm and forced him to showcase his weaponry. “He’s equipped with special tools, and… and…”
“Where is this… Queen of Beasts?” Farwaen cut them off. “If vanquish she must be, then I shall deliver.” He punched his sword into the air and stood tall. “Hevel wills it!”
Noetal scrunched up his face. “Hevel?” Shaking his head before Farwaen could answer, he explained. “The beast queen is a myth, one brought forth by a particularly troublesome elf who is now long since banished.”
“A myth!?” Hafface huffed. “We were just attacked by every manner of beast in the forest… the BEAST QUEEN’S FOREST! She exists, and she intends to keep us from the woods.”
“Oppressive.” Farwaen rubbed his chin. “Pray tell… where can I find this exiled elf of trouble?”
Noetal let out a long breath. “Nimueh is her name. You’ll have to find her to get any further in this mad inquiry of vengeance. As for where she is…”
Farwaen rip and tears a bunch of forest animals sent to kill him by the Beast Queen’s curse. Hafface takes him to her friend Noetal in the hopes of explaining that Farwaen could be the hero they need to kill the Queen. Noetal explains that the Queen is a myth and that only Nimueh knows the truth. Farwaen insists on finding Nimueh.
Farawen: 2
Plus 1 for being the main character Plus one for being there :)
I'm not really a bird.
[center]-0-
Where did I play,
A land of twisted branches,
A kingdom of clay,
A swamp of memories,
A never-ending day,
Where did I run,
Across the dawn,
Through the sun,
Across the sky,
Through laughs and fun,
Where did I walk,
Pristine grass green,
White cliffs of chalk,
Pools of sky so blue,
Orchard stones that talk,
Where did I sit,
By the gates of silver,
Near endless pit,
By forever horizon,
You may remember it.[/center]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I'm not really a bird.<br><br><div class="bb-center">-0-<br><br>Where did I play,<br>A land of twisted branches,<br>A kingdom of clay,<br>A swamp of memories,<br>A never-ending day,<br><br>Where did I run,<br>Across the dawn,<br>Through the sun,<br>Across the sky,<br>Through laughs and fun,<br><br>Where did I walk,<br>Pristine grass green,<br>White cliffs of chalk,<br>Pools of sky so blue,<br>Orchard stones that talk,<br><br>Where did I sit,<br>By the gates of silver,<br>Near endless pit,<br>By forever horizon,<br>You may remember it.</div></div>
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