Guy0fV4lor

From the weakest goblin to the Strongest god

@Jangel13 In what sense?

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@ERode@Pyromania99@PaulHaynek

Donovan climbed to his feet with a mighty yawn. Sleep had been hard to come by for him last night; if the bags uder his eyes were anything to go by.

After eating a small bit of last night's leftovers, he cupped a bit of clean snow in his hands, melted it over the fire, and wet his throat. Watching the first light of dawn grace the unmarred natural beauty of the land was truly a sight to behold, at least until the man's eyes caught view of Octavia. The relatively tame nature of the 'pup' had allowed him to overlook it's underlying nature for some time, but it seemed the sense of revulsion that he'd acquired the night before still lingered... The effect seemed permanent.

Don shook his head as he stepped away from the fireside for a moment. A name had come to him during the long hours of the night, something to address the deity that had chosen to bless him by. The man knelt in prayer, facing the direction they had first come from, the emblem of his necklace held gently in his right hand. "Ye who have blessed meh with th' power to protect meself, and those around meh-- I thank yeh. I know not tha names ya once went by in ages long past, but I've decided on what I'll call yah. Great ancient of tha' serpent and star, I dub yeh Suthainn, and hope that ye will continue tah watch over us lot through whatever is tah come." he paused for a moment before uttering his final word, "Amen."

Returning to the others, Donovan cleared his throat. "There's a village north uh here where we can get some supplies an maps if the lot o ya are interested... Besides-- tha deer asked a favor of meh so aye gotta head there anyhow. But," he paused, and looked towards Isidore, "If yer still keen on headin' south, an' the storm don't dissuade ya none, then aye'd like tah discuss tha seed we took... Because as it is, I fer one ain't too comfortable with a pocket sized demon factory roamin about th' countryside... I'd like tah purify it, if ye'd let meh."

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@ERode@Pyromania99@PaulHaynek

Initially, the forest was silent. Nothing but the leaves rustling lightly with the wind as Donovan set to work. It first seemed as though there wasn’t a reply to be had, and It would only be when Donovan moved to the third log would he finally receive a reply from the forest.

“...arrogance, as expected of humans.” The wind would reply. Though he could not see the deer, it was no doubt close by, just hidden among the trees and forest itself. “...yet even creatures such as I desire socialization, and it has been long since that child has been here.” A pause as Donovan continued to work, likely considering whether it wanted to bother with answering the questions. “...very well. Ask your questions, human, but I will make no promises to answer everything.”

The creature’s opening comment provoked a friendly chuckle from Donovan. "Aye, we do tend tah be an arrogant lot don't we?" As the man straightened himself, his cheery smile faded into a somber frown; pausing from his work as he stared into the trees. "Aye were hopin’ ya could elaborate bout’ th’ prophecy o’ sorts ya mentioned earlier. Is ‘what was drowned by the Moons tears’ connected to et? What’s supposed tah be imprisoned ere’? And is there any way to stop yer forest from gettin’ flooded?"

“Prophecy? Nay, history repeating. Humans desiring that which they should not, above all else.” The wind seemed heavy, as though the beast was sighing. “For creatures with a history of changing history, and independence of all Gods and Beasts...they can be surprisingly dependent. As for who they depend on...the one they have always served in that village. The One Who Illuminates. The Hag and the Old Man. The many faced, yet faceless God of Knowledge. They believe him gone, but he watches his experiments closely.” A cryptic reply as always, but at least this perhaps would set him on some sort of correct path. “But...as I am of the Earth, the mysteries of the Divine and their history before the earth woke from its slumber eludes me in their entirety.” It replied, the wind seeming to sigh in mild annoyance, carrying the salty scent of the sea. “I only know what the winds tell me. What the rumors they bring me from the human tales and tongues.”

There was a pause, the wind growing still, before Donovan would smell the salty scent of the sea as a gentle breeze carried it from the ocean.

“As such, I know not the particulars. Only that the humans say that, The Moon's tears, when she grieved for her slain family, flooded the ravaged lands, drowning the monstrosities that roamed and sending all to a deep slumber.” The wind stilled, a heavy, musty scent making it suddenly hard to breathe. “The nightmares of those days are not something this one has experienced, nor do I have a desire to. All I know are what the winds say, and I am told should they wake once more, the winds will cease blowing for eternity.” The wind seemed to still, almost fearful before blowing into an agitated gust of wind. “But to prevent it would mean to stop those who seek it, and leave none alive.” It continued bluntly. “They deserve what they sow.” A pause as Donovan would gather the next piece of wood. “...perhaps you could bargain with them, but trusting him and making deals with it inevitably end in misery for mortals while he sates his maddening curiosity. And do not ask for my aid, human. The forests will regrow, and the winds will continue to blow elsewhere.”

Donovan froze in place at this revelation. There was far more at stake than just the forest being flooded-- this mad god's obsession threatened to unleash apocalyptic horrors into the world at large. "That be damn grim indeed." the large man spoke gravely as he wiped a cold sweat from his brow, "Th' place tha moon dropped us… There were a large stone guardian patrollin' tha place… An' in the belly o' the prison, there were a demonic garden; massive in size, yet shackled tah it's prison..." Donovan drew his weapon and openly presented the emblem tied to its handle before the surrounding woods. "Aye alsuh found this there… Dunno what god were tied to that place; or this emblem ere, but does it have anythin' tah do with th' comin' storm? Were it one of th' Knowledge God's experiments? Or were it somethin' else?"

There was a pause. A moment's hesitation as the wind seemed to consider this information.

“A garden, you say?” The wind playfully rustled the leaves of the trees. “I can not say for certain. The wind occasionally brings words from the places that those of the Shadow dwell. Of a garden, where one of the few Immortals of the old world was laid to rest by the Sage Urumna before they ascended to be with the Moon, so their blood could bring life to the forests and plants once more.” A pause. “...but demonic, you say? The same that pup is from? Hm. Perhaps there is more to that tale than the winds tell. Nor do I know of this stone guardian you mention nor its connection with the Moon.”

The winds gently caressed the Emblem Donovan was holding.

“...That Emblem though...is a relic of a far older time than even the old world that was destroyed.” It replied. “I do not know. I only know that in the very oldest of places, I hear of an old, now forgotten Deity. I know not much else, but those emblems and motifs often are found in places connected to it. That particular one you carry...I can not say, but there’s a certain divine energy coming from it.”

Donovan rubbed his chin as he mulled over the elder beast’s response, old and wise as it was; wasn’t as knowledgeable as he’d hoped on the matter. If the seed was indeed related to this tale regarding the ‘old world’, perhaps the it’s destruction was unnecessary. Maybe, just maybe, there was something beneath that smooth black surface worth saving; something that could be redeemed. However hopeful he was to try and make the most of what tools were available, the man knew that such a notion as purifying the seed without destroying it was wishful thinking at best… But one could always hope.

Staring at the emblem held in his hands, Don conjured a small group of his workers with a gentle whistle, "You lot carreh this back to th’ camp, an’ stack et with tha’ rest." he spoke firmly, wasting no time in putting them to work before turning back toward the expanse of trees. "Thank ya fer yer wisdom..." the man’s voice paused for a moment, "Actualleh, there somethin aye should call ya? Don’t think yah ever gave meh yer name."

“I am the winds themselves.” The reply came after a moment. “The gentle breeze that carries the birds through the air. The furious winds that blow away even rock to dust. Upon my horns rest the sky, forever holding it out of the reach of the unworthy. My kin and humans named me as Kyrnith. ”

With that final word, the winds fell silent, blowing somewhere to the east and the beast left with it, having deemed it having spoken enough.

---

Before long, several pairs of ethereal humanoids would emerge from the treeline followed closely by Donovan himself. Even as he drew near to the fire, it was as if the shadows themselves clung tightly to his stonelike expression. Even as his workers began to chop the logs into proper pieces of firewood, he did not speak-- instead opting to silently eat his share of boar meat. Once again he drew his hammer, and untied the emblem from it's handle; instead opting to fashion it into a form of necklace that he would then tuck under his shirt.

Sleep was going to be difficult to come by tonight.

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@ERode@Pyromania99@PaulHaynek

"Aye." Donovan nodded at the elder beast. "Aye'll see what uh can do for em."

Giving the creature a polite bow, the large man took his leave, following Isidore out of the forest quietly. Though the hostilities had been dealt with, there almost seemed to be a remnant of unspoken tension in the air; causing him to stay completely silent for the journey back to camp. Once he and Isidore had rejoined the others, Donovan breathed a sigh of relief; though he knew full well that the group was likely still being watched, it was reassuring to know that they were no long trespassing on that creature's land uninvited. While Isidore got to work carving apart the boar, Donovan set to work hauling whatever fallen trees he could over to the fireside before snapping the long pieces into short logs using a decently sized, vaguely pointed rock, and the heel of his boot. As he made a pile of the newly prepared firewood, Augusta finally seemed to finish patching up Isidore, and had come over to ask Don if he was injured as well.

"Aye'm fine lass." Don turned to her with a beaming smile. "Preciate' yer concern though."

Eyeing the rather damp pile of logs before him, Donovan could tell that their current stockpile wouldn't last the night. They needed more wood, and the light was quickly fading. "Say, would ya mind usin' yer magic tah dry this batch a wee bit? Aye'm gunna see if aye can find summore dead timber fore' et gets too dark tah see."

Donovan eyed the forest's edge. The man knew that if he wanted to find more wood that was salvageable for the fire, he'd need to step back into the Elder beast's domain. Glancing back at Isidore, Don stewed on his thoughts for a moment as he considered what to do. Even though Isidore's actions had seemingly angered the creature, he himself seemed to be on at least relatively good terms with it. If he went back in alone, would the beast's attitude be more amicable? Could he perhaps even get it to elaborate on the vague prophecies it had mentioned? Maybe it could tell him a bit more about the world? So long as he took care not to anger it, there wasn't much likelihood that he would be in danger.

"Aye shouldn't be long. An be sure tah save meh some o' that hog if the lot uh ya eat without meh!"

Leaving his shield by the fireside, but keeping his hammer on his belt, Donovan entered the woods once more.

Once he was a fair distance into the wood, Donovan slowly began to gather any suitable lumber into a pile. Only partway into laying the second log, he paused; calling softly into the woods around him.

"I got a few more questions fer ya-- if yah wouldn't mind meh askin."

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@ERode@Pyromania99@PaulHaynek

Don raised a concerned eyebrow at Augusta as she forced him away from her. Had the sudden change in blood pressure affected her judgement? Was the tar-like fluid already messing with her head? Don frowned. Regardless, she had refused his help, and he wasn't about to force her into accepting his aid.

Upon seeing the wound heal through Augusta's own magic, Don breathed a sigh of relief. But while he was certainly happy that she wasn't going to bleed out anytime soon, the more immediate goal of escape took priority.

Needless to say, the brief sight of the raging confrontation between the Guardian and the Garden only furthered Don's belief that the seed ought to be dealt with the first chance he got.

---

The absence of crumbling, ancient walls was a welcome sight to Donovan. They were free! They were safe!

For now, at least.

After quietly allowing the original members of the group he'd stumbled across have their little reunion, Don stepped forward as Isidore started to enter the woods, "Aye'll make sure Mr. Invincible don't get himself kilt er' nuthin." he lightly joked. Pausing for a moment, the large man noticed that unlike Augusta's wound; which had nearly closed completely, Nick's had more or less just stopped bleeding, and had begun to clot. Was the elf's spell only repairing the wound without treating the infection? Don honestly had no idea. But in his mind it was better to be safe than sorry.

Placing his hand casually on Nick's injured shoulder in a reaffirming gesture, Don briefly channeled his his purification magic into the wound as discretely as possible to avoid further offending Augusta with his unwanted help. "Glad tah see yeh made et out arright lad. I were a tad worried when weh got split." he said with a beaming smile. "Much as I'd be happeh to keep tha two uh yeh company, aye can't let Isidore get too far ahead uh meh. Might not be able tah find the quiet bastard!" Don said with a chuckle as he headed off to follow the other reincarnator into the woods beyond.

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: A World of Stars and Stripes

If I can work it into my schedule, I'd be down to hop in here.

Gimme a few days to get a CS written up and I'll know if I can work it in by then.

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@ERode@Pyromania99
Donovan's eyes widened as the Thrall's lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Had his new skill rea1lly enhanced the power of his holy magic that much? The last time he'd used it, the spell had only seemed to throw the creatures off balance. The fact that it now killed them outright was an incredible improvement in potency. Isidore had handled two of the monstrosities already, Don had slain this one, and Augusta had already torched the fourth-- meaning only one remained. Turning to face it's charge, Don took a hefty swing at the wretch with his Warhammer; intent on ending it's life in a single blow.

Yet the blow never struck.

Rather than charge straight at him like Don had expected, the creature opted to instead rush Augusta; causing his strike to miss. "Dammit!" Fury burned in the large man's veins as he spun around, holy power coursing through him as the spiked end of his weapon tore into the side of the thrall's head; killing the creature instantly. He was already too late. The creature had already managed to stab Augusta in the side. It was a wound that could not be taken lightly. Without a moment's hesitation Don stuck his hammer into his belt and grabbed the elven woman tightly, throwing one her arms over the back of his neck so he could help her walk, while his free hand reached around and held her wound shut in a tight, vice-like grip.

"Weh need tah keep movin'! There ain't no tellin' what else this ere shitshow's gunna unleash!" Holding Augusta firmly, he pressed forward to the surface. He couldn't provide proper medical treatment for her injury at the moment, but he could at least try to make it slightly less serious. Once again, he channeled that divine energy in a plead for help. Guiding it into Augusta's wound.

They needed to get out of here before things got even worse.

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@ERode@Pyromania99

Happy to have gotten out of that horrific garden, Don made sure to watch the small party's flanks as they headed back the way they came. Even if the garden itself had spared them, that didn't mean the plant zombies would do the same, as it wasn't shown how much control the main entity had over the shambling abominations. Don grimaced as the group approached the hall full of thralls, even if he couldn't see Nick amoung the bodies; that didn't mean the lad wasn't horribly wounded. The large man scoffed as Isidore suggested they run ahead and leave him behind, "Aye dun enuff runnin fer today lad. Protected er' not-- there ain't no need to fight these things alone."

Don readied his hammer and shield as he took a deep breath. Focusing his magic, he called forth the 'whispers' once more, guiding as much energy as he could muster into his shield. In his mind's eye, the image of the serpent's star burned hot, and bright; a brilliant beam of starlight burning through the void of nothingness, and directed at the creatures before them.

It was probably a good thing Isidore had grabbed the seed, Don thought as he charged; shield first, at the nearest creature that hadn't already been engaged.

Warhammer 40k: Enigmas of the Warp

"You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"

"Not much at the moment, just reflecting on some rather fond memories." Titus responded warmly to the voidsman, a cheery smile wide on his lips. The boy took another long sip of his coffee, "Say Stukov, you don't suppose this is to fatten us up before we're thrown to the wolves do you?" the scribe chuckled lightly at his own joke as he emptied his glass. From what Titus could tell, Stukov was the closest thing here to a 'normal' person among the retinue, and was likely the only one other than the Celestian herself that the young scribe would feel comfortable trusting. Overall, the rest of the facility seemed both well-equipped and lavish. Though the decorations were a bit over-the-top for Titus' tastes, it was certainly a welcome change to the drab uniformity of the voidship's many halls. "If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was the residence of a rogue trader!" Titus quietly remarked to himself as the group entered a large corridor lined with strange artworks of exquisite quality. Despite the clear level of craftsmanship and artistry put into each work, some of these creations made the young scribe uneasy. They reminded him things best left forgotten and buried beneath the fog of time's passage and intentional repression.

"I think they look kind of nice. The artists had quite some creative souls."

For the briefest of moments, Titus heard a voice within his mind, its heinously sweet voice sending shivers of ecstasy down his spine. Yet as the sensation passed, the entity's hunger lingered a bit longer before fading into nothingness. The void left by the passing of these invasive sensations was promptly filled by Titus' own sense of overwhelming dread.

It had been months since he'd heard the whispers last. Disciplined management of his null collar was supposed to have negated them entirely. But even before the collar the whispers had never been this clear, this pronounced. Bile rose in his throat as the paranoia built, the walls seemingly closing in; every shadow a whisper of conspiracy-- something was here, and it was close. Cold sweat built on the boy's brow as he felt the world constricting around him. His head pivoted fearfully, franticly searching for where this abomination was hiding. Teeth grit, his heart pounded, his blood ran cold.

And then... Nothing.

The moment the retinue passed into the the room containing the statue of Saint Celestine, it was as if a colossal weight had been lifted from Titus's shoulders. Snapping back to reality, he immediately moved to adjust his collar, but stopping his hand midway to his neck. The last time he'd publicly adjusted his collar, Andromedai had scolded him heavily; and the last thing he wanted was to incur the sister's wrath atop this terrible omen. Rather, he opted to fidget with his sleeve instead; a hopeless attempt at distracting himself from his own fear. He payed little attention to the rest of the tour, his mind overtaken by the prospect of a malevolent entity having already invaded their foothold.

The moment the retinue was released to do as they pleased, the scribe opted to instead immediately retire to his room and lock the door behind him. When it was time to reconvene, Titus was the second of the retinue to arrive for the meeting. Whatever the young man had been doing; he now reeked of holy incense; his eyes red with exposure to the fumes. He took his place on one of the available couches, wordlessly staring at the floor as he awaited the meeting's start.

The Epic of Beginnings - Fragments of a weathered scroll

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@Rune_Alchemist@PaulHaynek@Pyromania99@ERode

Don nodded in slight disappointment at Augusta's inability to gain more insight about the pin, other than the fact it was enchanted. "Well, thanks for tryin anyhow lass. If the lot've ya are movin' forward here, I might as well come with ya... Ain't no tellin what might be down there, n' tha last thing aye want is fer ya tah get yerselves killed." Carefully placing the pin back in his breast pocket, Don lagged behind the group for a moment, taking care to run his fingers across the runes carved into the door; memorizing as much of it as he could before hurrying after the others. Descending further into the darkness with the others, the small group passed into a large, dimly lit chamber. Between the sickening smell, the hallway of dead bodies leading up to here, and the fact that they were in the underbelly of an ancient PRISON-- a powerful sensation of dread seated itself in the pit of Don's stomach. Whatever was here; needed to be locked back up, or outright destroyed. Immediately acting upon his gut instinct, the large man readied his armaments and moved up alongside Isidore just as the other man happened to speak, "Way ahead uh yah lad, this place gives meh th' creeps."

Gritting his teeth, he moved forward cautiously beside Isidore and the strange dog. Don caught movement out of the corner of his eye, causing his head to pivot immediately to face whatever threat was coming; only to realize it was only Nick, just panicked as hell... and on the other side of a vine wall!!! "Steel yerself boy!" Don boomed in a stern, commanding tone as he turned forward once more. "Tha moment ya give in tah fear, is tha moment yer most vulnerable! There's others up topside! Find em' and get outta here! We'll find our own way out!"