Spear in hand, Karamir trudged into the woods, wincing as leaves and branches crunched and snapped beneath his feet. He slowed his pace, and walked more stealthily, keeping noise to a minimum as he ventured through trees and brush. He had felt exposed on the plains. Perhaps the cover of the forest would make him feel more secure.
It had been perhaps two days since Kalmar had left him. He tossed some berries he had been saving from earlier into his mouth. Where would he go? What would he do? He had been given no instruction beyond survive and explore. It was a vast land, so he had decided to just pick one direction and keep walking.
The ground began to shake slightly, and Karamir froze. Kalmar had warned him that there were massive creatures on the continent. He dove beneath the cover of a nearby bush, and using his hunter’s sight, he slipped into the perspective of some animals who were located in that vague direction, but all were running away from it instead of toward. Thus, he had no idea what was coming.
The shaking became more intense. The sound of trees and foliage crushed under a massive weight steadily grew closer to Karamir. And then there was a roar, the like of which few living beings had yet heard. Flying forms filled the air as birds took flight from their hiding spots in the trees.
As birds and other winged creatures took flight, the towering form of the creature wandered into sight. It was a reptile, of sorts. Scaled skin with some areas covered in bright feathers. It stood on two powerful legs, with two comparatively small arms that were still capable of tearing most of the continent’s creatures apart with ease. And perhaps worse of all was its large head, powerful jaws, and sharp teeth. All in all it was a decisively excessively large and terrifying creature given the continent’s ecosystems.
Strangely enough, if one took the time to look, the form of a humanoid could be seen sitting on the creature’s head. The body language of the humanoid seemed to lack any degree of fear, in fact it seemed relaxed if anything, more interested in what was going on in the forest around the creature than in the creature it was riding.
Birds were not the only animals fleeing from the creature. One, an ordinary wolf, was also fleeing, and it just so happened that Karamir’s hiding spot was directly in the creature’s path of retreat. Karamir wanted to groan in frustration, but such an act would have been foolish. He hoped the creature would change its path, but it kept coming straight-on.
He wasn’t sure what to do. If he moved out of the way or fought it, the larger, more dangerous beast would know where he was. If he stood still, the wolf would step on him, perhaps even try to kill him. Neither situation was ideal. He frowned, and decided to take the risk.
The wolf was nearly upon him. Gripping his spear tightly, he rose and swivelled to face the animal, before thrusting his weapon forward. The wolf had not expected such sudden movement, and the spear went through its chest and deep into its heart, killing it.
When the creature fell, Karamir pressed his foot against the fallen wolf, wrenched the spear free, and turned to run, away from the beast that he was certain would try to pursue him.
The sudden series of shaking and rumbling from the creature’s direction indicated that Karamir’s fears had been realized. Perhaps worse was the fact that they were steadily getting closer. Each rumble noticeably closer than the last. The roar the creature let out was so loud it almost sounded as it the creature’s mouth was right behind him.
There was what sounded like a shout and suddenly the creature make to a halt. Followed by more shouting.
Karamir continued running. Yet, when he realized the shaking had stopped, he looked back, and saw that the creature was no longer pursuing him. He came to a stop, turned around, and assumed a defensive stance with his spear. ”Who are you!?” he shouted at the distant figure atop the beast.
Neither the figure nor creature seemed to notice Karamir now. The humanoid was too busy shouting at the creature, obviously berating him. Strangely enough the massive creature looked subdued, apologetic even. After a moment one of the creature’s eyes locked on to Karamir and it seemed to indicate him by moving its head.
”Ah. Um. Sorry about my friend here.” The humanoid called down to Karamir in a pleasant voice. ”He didn’t scare you too badly did he?”
Karamir remained where he was. He did not lower his spear, and he did not answer her question. ”Who are you!?” he repeated, his tone no less guarded.
”I’m Atalantia. She answered. ”Now perhaps you would care to introduce yourself? Last I checked there were no other intelligent mortals here which means…” By this point she was all but mumbling to herself in thought.
”Atalantia?” Karamir asked, in a tone one of mild surprise. Kalmar had mentioned that name once, though he had also said he hadn’t actually met her. ”My name is Karamir.”
”Yup. Atalantia’s the name. Don’t wear it out. And this big lug here is Pyrdon.” She patted the creature’s head. ”Say hello Pyrdon.
”Hello. The voice rumbled through both Atalantia’s and Karamir’s minds. ”Tiny mortal.
”Fat head.” Atalantia rolled her eyes. ”Now given your name I would imagine you were created by Kalmar, right? He seems to like to name things after himself, though I would have guessed he would have named his first mortal Kalson, son of Kalmar, or some such nonsense. You are the first mortal he made, right?”
”I am,” he replied guardedly. ”and you were made by Phystene?” Before Atalantia could reply, he also added: ”And what’s wrong with my name?”
”Hmmm…? Oh nothing, nothing.” She couldn’t keep the grin off of her face. ”And Phystene is my mother, of course. Thankfully she was gracious enough to allow me to name myself and Pyrdon. She probably would have named him after a flower or something after all.
”You don’t know that.
”Oh? I don’t recall you complaining about me giving you a name at the time. If you’d like we can go find mother and ask her to give you a real name.”
”I like my name.” It almost sounded like the giant lizard was pouting.
”So Karamir, son of Kalamar. Boy, try saying that ten times in a row. Anyways. What brings you to these parts? Got bored? Yearned for the experience of getting chased by a giant dinosaur? Or just out for the view?”
Karamir was confused. Why did she say he was Kalmar’s son? ”I’m not his son, I’m his creation,” he corrected her. ”He trained me for nine days and then sent me out to survive on my own. I’m exploring Kalgrun.”
”Bah. That’s just silly. Strictly speaking any living being he directly makes is his son or daughter.” Her tone my it sound like this was a self evident fact. ”Wait… So he spent nine days making sure you new your ass from your face and then kicked you out on your own? Just cause? With no mission, objective, or role to fill? Just…. ‘Go out and do… hunting things.’ Seriously?” After a moment of silence she added ”I’m sorry.”
Karamir blinked, unsure of how to respond. This was the first person he had spoken to aside from Kalmar himself, and she was riding on top of a dinosaur, and she was apologizing for something. Her words had been more or less true, though not how he or Kalmar would have phrased. ”I will find my own purpose,” he said after a while.
”Well… whatever works for you I suppose. Atalantia said after a moment. ”Do you have any idea what this purpose of yours will entail?”
[color=yellow]”No. That is what I will find out. I need to see and learn more, first.”[color] Karamir answered, remembering Kalmar’s words. ”Survive, adapt, experience, don’t die. If I can do that, I can decide my own fate.”
”Its arguable that the purpose of all life is to reproduce and pass on its genes to its offspring. Its a real pity Kalamar didn’t make any women for you to reproduce with. I suppose if you wanted I could ask mother to make wolves or something compatible with you.” She grimaced. ”It would be really weird though. You might just want to wait for if and when kalamar makes more of… you.”
Karamir winced. ”I couldn’t do that even if there were. He said that might change, but…” the statement trailed off, and suddenly he decided to change subject. ”And his name is Kalmar, not Kalamar.”
”Kalalamar?”
Karamir frowned. ”Atalatalatalatalantia,” he shot back in a dry tone, dragging out her name.
”Kalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalallalalamarama” She returned, unable to keep a stupid grin from appearing on her face.
Karamir did not know what was happening, but he would not yield. ”Atatatatalatalatalatalatalatalatalatalatantianiania.” he countered, his words nearly devolving into giberish towards the end, and he stopped only to breathe.
Atalantia took a deep breath and opened her mouth, but was cut off by Pyrdon. ”Atalantia. Kalson. For the love of all life created by Kalmar and Phystene: SHUT UP!”
”She started it…” Karamir muttered under his breath, causing Atalantia to stick her tongue out at him in response.. ”What were we talking about?”
”You two were discussing the possibilities of fornicating with wolves. Of all creatures why wolves? Such inferior creatures…”
”Why would you even want to do that with a wolf anyways Kalson?”
”You were the one who was interested in fornicating with wolves, not me,” Karamir corrected.
”Really? That’s not how I remember it.” Pyrdon’s eye roll was of massive proportions. ”Oh fine. Guess I’ve had enough fun teasing you. For now. We were talking about your purpose, or lack thereof.”
”Until I can survive on my own, I have no purpose beyond survival,” Karamir said, dropping the subject of wolves for the time being. ”If I can’t survive then I won’t be alive to do anything else.”
”Well… with that morbid thought in mind would you care to accompany me for awhile. Pyrdon and I were just checking out the region. Making sure no nefarious gods had created an army of zombie spiders or something.”
Karamir considered that request for a moment. Although this meeting had been tense, Atalantia was Phystene’s creation. Phystene, who was perhaps the only god that Kalmar fully trusted at this point in time. Surely, no deliberate harm would come to him. ”Alright,” he said at last, and then began to approach the beast.
”Hop on up.” She patted Pyrdon’s head as the massive dinosaur lowered himself fully to the ground. The dinosaur’s eyes latched onto Karamir.
”Behave yourself.” His voice rumbled through Karamir’s mind. Atalantia seemed oblivious that Pyrdon was speaking at the moment. ”If you harm Atalantia or touch her an… inappropriate fashion I’ll swallow you whole and slowly digest you.”
Karamir froze, and stared back at Pyrdon with a confused expression. ”What? Why would I…?” his voice trailed off. Then, against his better judgement, he decided not to question it further, and climbed on top of Pyrdon. He took a seat some distance behind Atalantia.
”Did you say something?”
”No… he did.” Karamir said, still somewhat confused. ”Let’s just get moving.”
”Huh? Well ok. Pyrdon! Let’s go!” The dinosaur slowly rose to his full height, obviously taking care not to jostle or shake Atalantia unnecessarily. As he began to walk Atalantia asked ”Amazing view, isn’t it?”
Karamir looked around. He had lost his fear of heights already, and between that and the fact that he was sitting on an enormous monster, there was a sense of security he had not felt on the ground. He could see a great distance, and he did not even need to rely on the abilities Kalmar gave him. ”Yes it is.” he said at last.
Karamir ventures into the forest. He does not get far before he hears a distant rumbling, which is none other than Phystene’s creation, Pyrdon.
After a wolf stumbles across his hiding spot, Karamir is forced to reveal himself, and is then chased by Pyrdon for a short while. Atalantia calls him to a stop, and she and Karamir exchange tense greetings. They discuss their creator’s, as well as Karamir’s ‘upbringing’ and his purpose, which somehow devolves into childish bickering only for Pyrdon shut it down.
Atalantia then invites Karamir to go for a ride on Pyrdon. After receiving a warning from Pyrdon, Karamir reluctantly climbs on.
Perched on a rock along the coast of the Hunter's Isle, Kalmar had resolved to complete one of his many unfinished tasks.
He pulled out the chunk of wood and continue carving.
On and on he worked, cutting, chipping, and whittling away with the Knife of Friendship, occasionally stopping to think about the next step, and imagining the final result in his head. Wood shavings littered the grass, and there were few sounds save for the scrape of metal on wood and the gentle lapping of the lake. It was quite peaceful, a peace which was only broken when he made a critical mistake that ruined his work, forcing him to toss it aside and start again.
On his fourth attempt, he finally finished. He inspected the work, and when satisfied with the final result, he pocketed it.
Afterward, he sat and reflected.
One thought which kept returning was in regards to how the other gods had created mortals. Hermes, Arya, Liana, this 'Atalantia.' Some of them even went so far as to consider them their own children. Kalmar was not certain why. Arryn, for example, was no more his offspring than a troll or a griffin. Neither was that angel he helped Asceal create.
Their relationships with their creators aside, however, Kalmar couldn't help but note that he had assisted in the education of no less than two of them. Hermes, briefly, and for a much longer period of time, Arya. And he had enjoyed teaching. Besides, even putting enjoyment aside, Liana and Atalantia were acting as advisors to their own respective masters, and Kalmar wondered if perhaps even he could benefit from such an advisor as well.
With that, the Hunter rose to his feet, and went to work.
Day One
The Mortal opened his eyes. Where was he? Who was he? What was he? How was he? The light was so bright. There was water nearby, and a forest, and standing before him was... a man.
The man was tall, equal to him in height, with blond hair, dark green eyes, and a moustache. The man wore a series of pelts and animal skins, and in each hand he held a long, straight stick. Somehow he knew that this man had created him.
The Creator tossed one of the sticks to him. He was barely able to catch it, and when he did he looked back at the Creator in confusion.
Then the other stick slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He dropped his own weapon and doubled over onto the ground.
"Defend yourself," his creator barked sharply.
"I... uh..." he began to speak, only for his creator to whack him lightly on the leg.
"Defend yourself!"
So he did. He gripped the staff, rose to his feet, and maneuvered the staff to block into the path of an incoming strike. He succeeded, but his creator merely pushed it aside and then landed a sharp blow on his left shoulder.
"Try again."
He didn't. He turned and ran.
But his creator was far faster than he could ever hope to be, and suddenly appeared in front of him, swiping out his legs with a single swing. Once again, he hit the grass, hard.
"It is wise to avoid a fight with a stronger opponent. It is not wise to expose your back to a faster one. Stand, and try again."
Once again, he retrieved his weapon, and stood. Thrice more he was sent to the ground, exchanging a blow or two before he was swiftly bested. He was sore all over, his body covered with grass, dirt, and mud, yet his creator kept insisting that he stand, and stand he did. Frustration and anger began to build up inside him.
On his next attempt, he was able to block three blows in quick succession, and then, with a shout of rage, he swung wildly for his creator's head. It was a simple enough matter for his Creator to redirect the strike, and suddenly the butt of a staff was inches away from crushing the Mortal's throat.
"That was better." The staff came away. "There is strength in you."
"Who... who am I?" His voice came out, weak, gruff, and hoarse. "What is this?"
"This is life. I made you so you could experience it. In order to experience it, you must survive. And in order to survive, you must be able to defend yourself."
"Why!?" he demanded angrily. The staff came, faster than ever before, and once again he was off his feet. His creator loomed over him.
"I am Kalmar. As for who you are... I will give you a name when you earn it. Go. Drink water and wash yourself off."
So he did. It was only after he drank that he realized he had been thirsty, and as he washed himself the water on his skin was soothing. He looked at his reflection in the water - wild and unkempt dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, pointed ears, a clean shaven face. Aside from those features he was almost identical to his Maker.
When he stepped out of the water, he noticed that his Creator was sitting on a rock, completely silent, his eyes closed. Even as the Mortal came within a few feet, his Creator remained silent and unmoving. The staff was on the ground next to him. Gingerly and as stealthily as possible, the Mortal picked up the staff, reared back, and swung at his Maker's head.
A hand shot out and stopped the staff midswing, gripping it tight. The Creator's eyes had opened, and fixed him with a hard glare. His own eyes widened in fear. "My focus may be miles away, but I am not completely senseless." Then the staff was wrenched from his grip. A blow caught him in the stomach, and as he bent over another struck his back, collapsing him onto the ground.
"Why?" he pleaded again.
"I told you. You need to defend yourself. If you suffer now you will avoid suffering in the future. I do this to make you stronger."
"But why? Why do I need to defend myself!?"
"Because the world has dangers," the Creator spoke bluntly. "If you can't defend yourself, they will kill you."
"But why? Why are there dangers!?"
"To make you stronger. To help you grow. Every challenge you overcome makes you more powerful. You can't see it now, but in time you will. If you want your life to be more than pain, you need to protect yourself."
The Mortal recalled the soothing feeling of the water, and realized that there was in fact more to life than being relentlessly beaten by a chunk of wood. "But what else is there?" he asked, still prone on the ground.
"That is for you to find out." His creator knelt, and extended a hand. The Mortal flinched, only to realize that it did not carry a weapon, but was instead an open palm. "Take my hand."
The Mortal took the outstretched hand, and was helped to his feet.
"Come. It is getting dark. I will show you how to start a fire."
Day Two
It had taken several attempts and much time, but in the end, the Mortal had managed it. He went to sleep warm, in some semblance of comfort.
He woke with the sunrise shining in his eyes. He turned away, and realized that his Creator had been tending the fire all through the night. Yet, as soon as his Creator realized he was awake, the fire was summarily extinguished by a flurry of stamps and kicks. "Get up. Your training continues."
The mortal grumbled, but did as he was told. Yet to his surprise he did not face more staff-fighting. His Creator only carried one staff, and a sharpened stone had been fixed to its end. He felt a fear well up inside him, but instead the spear was handed to him. "You need to eat," his Creator said with customary bluntness. "Wade into the water and stab a fish."
And so he did. Or at least, he tried. He waded in waist deep, stood perfectly still, and waited for a fish to come within spearing range, yet he kept failing. He looked back at the shore, where his Creator still waited and watched. "Why can't you help me..." he muttered under his breath.
"If I did, you wouldn't be able to survive without me," his Creator's voice rang through his mind, startling him. He froze, then slowly turned back to his task, and continued waiting. More minutes passed. Then, a shape. He thrust at it, and to his astonishment, he struck true.
"I... I did it..." he waded back toward shore, the fish impaled at the end of his spear.
"Well done," his creator said, the rare compliment filling him with a sense of pride. Yet with the next instruction, his heart fell. "Now make a fire. Without my help."
Eventually he managed that as well, and then, after cooking the fish, he was finally free to eat it. It tasted good, and he felt ravenously hungry. Once he was done, he looked up at his creator for further instruction.
"You did well. Now pick up that staff. The sparring continues."
Oh no...
They sparred throughout the day. He was still no match for his master, but he realized his skills were improving. Instead of only blocking two or three strikes, he now blocked as many as four or five. Instead of going down after one or two hits, he managed to stay on his feet and push the pain aside. Yet as the fighting continued, he felt the familiar rage begin to build up, and lashed out with greater aggression.
His Creator sidestepped one such attack, and tripped him up with the staff. "Anger, and aggression, can be useful. But they can also be a hindrance. Master your anger. Do not let it master you." Then the fighting continued. It continued until he was so tired that he simply couldn't. The staff became too heavy to carry, his became liquid, his vision faded, and he was on the ground, blackness closing in.
When he awoke, it was dark, save for a fire that crackled nearby. His Creator looked at him, then through him a freshly cooked fish. "I will name you Karamir."
Karamir was so hungry that at first he didn't even care. It was only several mouthfuls later that he realized it. He had a name.
Day Three
"Karamir. Come with me." Kalmar extended his right hand, a spear in his left.
Karamir had only just finished eating breakfast - fish, yet again, not that he minded the taste. He didn't have anything else to compare it to. He looked up at Kalmar, and took the outstretched hand.
Then, they began to fly.
Karamir's eyes widened as the expanse of trees and waters passed beneath them. They were leaving the island! And he no longer had anything solid beneath him!
"Master your fear," Kalmar told him, cutting through his thoughts. "Listen to it, respect it, but do not let it rule you. It is another obstacle you must overcome. If you can't, you die."
Karamir took a deep breath, and steeled himself.
They made it to the other end of the lake, and Kalmar set him down in a vast grassland. "Die?" Karamir asked in confusion as they walked, though somehow he already knew that it meant some sort of an end. A permanent one too.
"When you stop living. Everything dies at some point. Even if you go your entire life without going hungry or taking a scratch, eventually your body will wear out and your soul will decay."
Karamir blinked. That was... depressing. And terrifying. "Why? What is the point in living if it all ends?" he asked.
So, Kalmar told him. They existed to continue existing. Existing brought suffering, but also success. The success was what they lived for; the suffering was merely what helped them appreciate it. To give up was to lose, to survive was to win. They all lost in the end, but they would win as many victories as possible to meet their fate. Death, destruction, and suffering were all natural parts of life, to be resisted and overcome. They could not be permanently kept at bay, and even if they could, that would only bring weakness and stagnation. All this, Karamir learned, and he nodded along. It made sense, he realized. And so he resolved to learn, so he could succeed, and live as long as he can. But there was a more pressing issue.
"Why are we out here?" Karamir asked.
"To continue your training." Kalmar said, then stopped. "Look."
Up ahead was a pack of five wolves. Kalmar handed him the spear. "Prepare yourself." And with those words Kalmar pulled out his bow and loosed an arrow. It struck one of the wolves in the throat. The other three came running at them, but Kalmar kept calm and loosed another. Three remained. Another arrow was loosed, and another fell, but then the wolves were upon them. Or more accurately, upon Karamir.
Karamir didn't run. The wolves were faster than he was, and if he turned his back he would die. Instead he raised the spear and skewered one of them... only for the final wolf to leap on top of him and pin him to the ground. Yet just before the beast could rip his throat out, an arrow struck it in the side of the head.
"It is unwise to fight foes that outnumber you." Kalmar informed him, kicking the wolf off.
"Then why did you have me fight them!? Karamir yelled in frustration, rising to his feet.
"To teach you a lesson. Normally you shouldn't seek out fights like that, but you did well. You stood your ground and you killed one. If it had been a lone wolf you wouldn't have needed my help." Kalmar told him. "And I also wanted you to know what it is like to face something that actually wants to kill you," he added flatly. "Now let me show you how to skin these."
Half an hour later, they walked away with armloads of pelts and meat. "This is the last place you want to fight a pack of wolves," Kalmar explained. "You can't outrun them, and they have superior numbers. I only brought you out here so you would know what it is like to come face to face with death - when something charges at you with intent to kill."
Day Four
They had feasted on wolf meat, and Kalmar had told him how to handle the skins of recently killed animals. In the morning, Karamir had a wolf cloak of his own.
Now, it was back to sparring. Karamir's skills continued to improve, but of course, he was no match for his creator. It continued throughout the day, stopping only for meals and short periods of rest. It was exhausting. Karamir tried to do what Kalmar said, to master his anger. He used his rage to put more force behind his strikes, but he did not allow himself to make excessively reckless swings. Kalmar gave him advice and pointers, on how to position his feet, how to avoid leaving himself open, and reminding him to watch his opponent.
When it the sparring ended, they sat down by a fire, and Kalmar began to tell him about the gods. How they were beings of immense power, who were brought by the Architect to make and shape the world. One by one, Kalmar touched a finger to his forehead and transmitted what he knew of each.
There was Kalmar himself, God of the Hunt, who only wanted a world where all creatures could survive and better themselves by overcoming adversity, without succumbing to stagnation.
There was Phystene. Kalmar's most trusted friend and ally, and perhaps Kalmar had unintentionally shown him too much, because there seemed to be more to it than that.
There was Parvus, the aloof, cautious god of insects. Kalmar respected him, but did not count him as a friend or even an ally.
There was Orvus, the God of Desolation, Kalmar's enemy, whom he had sworn to kill. And for good reason, Karamir knew.
There was Narzhak, the God of Conflict, who thrived on adversity and competition, just like Kalmar. Yet Narzhak drew it into excess and did not seem to think of the consequences, and thus did far more harm than good.
There was Asceal, the Goddess of Light. Idealistic, principled, perhaps a bit too quick to judge.
There was Li'Kalla, a shy timid creature when Kalmar first met her, yet if stories were true, Vakk had made her into a monster. Vakk was not to be trusted.
And more, yet those were the ones Kalmar thought were most important for him to know about.
He told him of the mortals, too. "To my knowledge, Hermes was the first mortal," Kalmar revealed. "I did not spend long with her. She beat me in a race using magical sandals, and I taught her how to fish." He shrugged. "Then there was Arya. She was with me the longest. But I might have been too light on her. I don't think she truly grasped the way of the world, and she does not have full mastery over her emotions. This is why I have been so strict." The Hunter explained, and Karamir couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at this 'Arya', as though she was somehow responsible for this.
"Asceal has Liana. I don't know who she is, or what she does, but she exists. And Phystene has Atalantia, who seems to be her advisor on tactics and names." Kalmar continued. "I haven't met Atalantia yet, so I don't know fore sure. I do know that the mortals I've met were all women, which might make you the first man. Unless someone else has made one before me." He was silent for a few moments, to let Karamir process this.
"There... there are so few of us?" Karamir asked in surprise. "What are we to the gods?"
Kalmar pondered that for a moment, as though he wasn't sure of the answer himself. "Depends on the god. Some might see their creations as their children. Others might see you as tools. Some might simply see you as any other animal. There are few of you now, but some day there will be more."
"But individually... we're nothing compared to them." Karamir asked, melancholy heavy in his voice.
"Not nothing. Besides, your life has just begun. There is no telling how far you might rise, how strong you might become. Or you might fail, and end up lower than where you started. Not even I know. What I do know is that you have already come a long way."
"I..." Karamir wasn't sure what to say to that. Could he become a god? Or even something comparable to a god? And could he truly end up lower than he was already? There were so many questions. How long would it take him to become more powerful? What would he need to do? What challenges must he overcome? What fate awaited him if he failed? But instead, he asked: "What am I to you?"
"Go to sleep." Kalmar said, turning away.
Day Five
"You said that, even if I never hunger or take an injury, my life will still end."
Kalmar stopped and looked back. He had taken Karamir out to the forest, and had been teaching him how to forage. At length Kalmar had told him how foraging was often safer than hunting, but it still carried dangers. Other things could hunt them, of course, and not everything they foraged would be safe to consume. He told him which plants were poisonous and which were not. He pointed out animal tracks, and emphasized the importance of keeping eyes on the ground, while still being aware of everything else.
"I did."
"How long?"
Kalmar shrugged. "A few thousand years? More? I only made one of you, so it wasn't hard to give you a long life. Most of my other creations won't even see a fraction of that."
"You said there might be more of me. How?" Karamir questioned, coming to a stop.
"We gods will make more mortals, and those mortals will reproduce," Kalmar answered simply. He too had stopped and seemed somewhat annoyed.
"Reproduce?"
"Yes. With most species, it requires a male and a female. One parent cares for the child, while the other provides for them. There might be exceptions, but that is usually the case. When the child comes of age, and can live on its own, it is expected to care for itself." Kalmar lectured.
"And I can do that?"
"No."
"What?"
"No."
Karamir blinked in disappointment. He was silent for some time. "Why?" he finally asked.
"It would have taken more out of me." Kalmar answered.
"That... that's it?" Karamir asked. His surprise faded, and gave way to anger. "You deprived me an important ability... because you didn't want to put in the extra effort!?" He yelled.
"Control your anger," Kalmar snapped.
[colour=yellow]"No! You-"[/color]
"Control your anger!" Kalmar repeated, his tone more forceful. "You do not have the ability to reproduce yet. I may give it to you later. Or some other god might. Why would you even need such an ability when you have no one to reproduce with? And how could you expect to care or provide for your young when you're still learning to provide for yourself?"
Karamir fell silent. He knew that his creator was right, as he had been about so many other things. He did not need such an ability, it was true. Not yet. Kalmar took the silence as compliance, and continued walking. After a moment, Karamir followed. A bitterness still rested within him, yet he focused on the lesson. If he would not be given such a power he would earn it, and if he was to earn it he would need to learn.
Day Six
More sparring. Karamir was beginning to enjoy it, despite the bruises. The only thing he had to compare himself to was a god, who was deliberately holding back, but he believed he was good at. He asked if Arya had been this good at fighting, but Kalmar told him to worry about himself instead. If he met this Arya, he would have to test his skill against hers.
In between sessions, Kalmar took the time to explain his philosophy. He should not kill for pleasure or without reason. He should use as much of what they kill as possible, in order to prevent waste. He should never make unnecessary war against their own kind. Karamir thought back to the wolves. "Did they die for no reason?"
"No. We ended up using them, and they taught you a lesson as well. Their deaths were not in vain. What we left behind would have been consumed by other animals, but don't always assume that will be the case."
"I see."
"Good. Now pick up your staff."
Day Seven
"There is something I think you are ready for," Kalmar said, as Karamir picked himself off the ground for the fifth time that day.
"What? What is-" Karamir asked, but was quickly cut off as Kalmar pressed a finger against his forehead, imbuing his mind with a strange power.
"An ability of mine. You can see through the eyes of predators. Your range will be nowhere as great as mine, but you do not need to see that far. It will still be immensely useful."
Karamir was taken aback. "How?"
"Focus."
That wasn't helpful. But focus he did. He grit his teeth and shut his eyes. What was he supposed to focus on!? Then, he began to sense it. The minds of hundreds of creatures scattered around, and mentally he reached out to one. He found himself staring through the eyes of an eagle, soaring far above the open field, and he could see for miles.
Kalmar slapped him and he came back. "You don't have the same awareness as I do," he observed. "You will have to be careful where you decide to use that. Try it again."
Day Eight
On the eight day, Kalmar began teaching him something different. How to use a bow.
It was difficult.
Kalmar refused to let him use the magical bow. Instead, the Hunter had crafted one overnight from wood and strung it with a strong vine. At least he allowed Karamir to use the parrot-feathered arrows, though there didn't seem to be anything overtly magical about them. Perhaps the arrows flew swifter? He didn't know - there was nothing to compare it to beyond the bow that was already powerful to begin with.
They took shots at trees, with Kalmar lecturing him on his stance, posture, and aimed. As the day went on, his aim improved considerably. "I think you're ready," he finally said, after several hours had passed.
"Ready for what?"
"To shoot a live target." And with those words, Kalmar grabbed him and they once again flew out over the lake and toward the fields. By now Karamir had mastered his fear of flight, and the height no longer disturbed him. He and Kalmar landed on a small hill, overlooking a herd of deer. "Shoot one," Kalmar instructed.
Karamir followed the steps as he remembered them. In the light of the setting sun, he assumed the proper stance, notched an arrow, took a breath, drew the string back, aimed slightly above that which he wished to hit, and loosed.
The arrow struck true, but it did not kill. Kalmar quickly resolved that, sending another arrow into the animal's skull as it limped away. "Well done, for only a day's practice. Your aim will improve. Now we skin it." And so they descended the hill. Kalmar pulled out the Knife of Friendship, and proceeded to butcher the deer for meat and skin while Karamir observed their surroundings. They then returned to the island, and after a meal of venison, Karamir went to sleep, using his wolf pelt as a blanket.
Day Nine
When Karamir awoke, there were clothes waiting for him. "What are these?" He asked Kalmar, who sat on a log with an unknown object clenched in his fist.
"I fashioned them from the deer we killed yesterday. They will keep you warm and shield you from the elements. Put them on." Kalmar answered, staring at his fist.
So, he did. Equipped with his rough tunic and wolfpelt cloak, he turned to look at his maker. "Why are you giving me this?"
"I just told you." The Hunter answered indifferently.
"But why now?" Karamir demanded impatiently.
Kalmar looked up, and for a moment Karamir thought he saw an emotion he could not quite place. "It's time for you to leave," Kalmar answered.
"What? Why? When will I be back?"
"I taught you the essentials, but I can't guide you forever. You must learn to survive without me watching over you. You must be able to learn on your own."
"But... I did everything you said." Karamir protested, his tone more confused than hurt.
"You did. And now you must apply what I have taught you."
"But why!? Why did you create me if you're just going to send me away!?" Karamir demanded, suddenly angry. "You expose me to pain after pain, you tell me it's for a reason, you tell me I can become stronger if I listen to you, and then you cast me out!?"
"Casting you out is how I make you stronger. But I will never be away from you. Not truly. If you need my guidance, simply clear your mind and think of me, and I will talk to you. I would prefer that you rely on your own judgement. Also..." suddenly the metal Knife of Friendship appeared in Karamir's hand. "I loan you my knife."
"That's it?" Karamir asked. His rage had faded somewhat, yet this felt like a poor reward for all he had been through, and it hardly left him content to go roam the wilds with no purpose beyond 'survive to become stronger.'
"No," Kalmar rose from the rock, and picked up a nearby spear - this one was fashioned with bone. He pressed the spear into Karamir's other hand, and once again pressed a finger against the young Mortal's head. Once again, Karamir felt filled with power. "I enhance your combat abilities. Few can match you with a spear. I make you odorless - your body, the clothes you wear, and the items you carry will no longer carry an odor. I enhance your awareness - you will rarely miss a detail; your eyes will rival a and your nose will rival a wolf."
Karamir was taken aback. "I... wha..." Between the news and all these gifts, how was he supposed to react. Somehow, he composed himself. "Why didn't you give me these things when you created me!?" he demanded. "What was all that training for?"
"So you would not take your abilities for granted." Kalmar countered. "If you had been created with them, you would be unable to appreciate how much effort other creatures must go to in order to even come close to your skills. You would have become arrogant and impulsive." Kalmar opened his fist, and pressed something into the hand that also held the knife. Before Karamir could see what it was, Kalmar gripped him by the wrist, and flew him across the lake before more questions could be asked. Then, Kalmar set him down, but did not land alongside him.
"I... no! You don't know that!" Karamir shouted.
"It doesn't matter what I know or don't know. It is what it is. I gave you the skills you need, one way or another. What happens next is up to you. Go. Survive, adapt, experience. And don't die. It will make me sad." With those words, Kalmar turned and flew away.
Karamir watched his creator depart with mixed feelings. Gratitude, happiness, sadness, regret, anger, confusion, shock. Too many emotions to process.
He looked down at the final gift Kalmar had pressed into his hand. A wooden carving, of... a wolf. That was what Kalmar had called them. For a moment, he turned it over curiously. Then, he threw it into the sea. It was a useless trinket. It would not help him survive. With that, he turned away, still not certain how he should feel. But there was thing he was certain of.
He would survive, he would adapt, he would experience.
He would not be a failure.
Kalmar decides to create a single mortal, who he names Karamir. Over the course of nine days, he puts Karamir through a tough and brutal regime, educating and training him in the ways of survival. He learns how to fight, fish, hunt, forage, and shoot. Their interactions are tense, as Karamir demands to know more about his purpose and his place in the world, with Kalmar doing his best to answer but not all of those answers being satisfactory.
Kalmar reveals that Karamir will one day die of old age. Though that day might be several thousand years away, it will come nonetheless. Karamir is also told that he is infertile, but that status may change if he proves himself to either Kalmar or a different god.
Kalmar arms him, teaches him some abilities, and sends him on his way. Karamir is not happy, but resolves to succeed.
Kalmar -0MP (1-1, discounted by Hunting Portfolio) to teach Karamir a less effective version of Hunter's Sight - it has a range of one hundred kilometers. -0MP (1-1, discounted by Hunting Portfolio) to make Karamir odorless, which also extends to whatever Karamir happens to be wearing or carrying. -0MP (1-1, discounted by Hunting Portfolio) to heighten Karamir's senses. -1MP to turn Karamir into an excellent fighter.
Remaining MP: 2 Remaining FP: 1
Portfolios in Progress -Fishing (3/5) -Foraging (5/5) -Archery (1/5)
The meeting with Phystene had lifted Kalmar's spirits. It was good to know that, even as the rest of their kind began to turn on each other, there was somebody he could trust and rely on. It gave him a sense of security and reassurance. There was another feeling too, but he was not sure it was the right time.
He had made two guardians, and even now they carried out his will. Kalmar had not granted them capacity for advanced communication, but they could still send a telepathic sense of alarm to him that would signify warning or distress. By now, Gorm had likely killed and consumed several ghouls, and Fenris would no doubt be familiarizing himself with the region he was supposed to protect. Kalmar did not have any immediate plans for the Hunter's Eye, yet it was a region that he wanted to ensure remained protected.
Speaking of regions, he couldn't help but frown at the distinct lack of diversity on the continent. Aside from the jungle itself, it was mostly forests. There were mountains, which had become capped with snow since the continent's creation, and now produced some smaller natural rivers, but that was all. It was entirely suitable environment for hunting, yet variety was needed.
Hoping that Phystene would understand, Kalmar floated above the Hunter's Eye, and focused.
From the Eye to the Coast, the forest almost seemed to recede into the ground, leaving only grass, creating a vast expanse of field and hills, with the odd pond here and there. The grass, in turn, then grew taller and more wild. The soil beneath became more fertile. Other, newer plants grew as well, many bearing edible leaves or berries.
The animals, astonished at this, froze in terror. But soon enough they began to recover. Those nearby the forest ran for the cover of the trees, and the rest would surely migrate there as well - either that, or adapt to the new surroundings. Either way, newer, better-suited animals would be needed. First he created the prey - bison, rabbits, ferrets, toads, elk, deer, mice, just to name a few. Then he made the predators - badgers, wolves, coyotes, bobcats, snakes, hawks, and more. And of course, the insects - bees, grasshoppers, worms, ants...
The marsh surrounding the Hunter's Eye, as well as the island in the middle, were completely unchanged. Fenris looked up at him with confusion. Kalmar sent him a telepathic message to continue patrolling the region. He realized the lack of trees would make it easier for the wolf to be aware of the surroundings. The wolf himself would be more visible, but in the forests his vast size had already been impossible to miss, so far more was gained than lost.
His work done, the hunter smiled, and set himself down in the waist-high grass. There was a certain sense of freedom, standing in a vast open space like this, but he knew a lesser creature would have felt vulnerable - one may be able to see everything, but everything would also be able to see them, and unless they were small there were few places to hide. The only choice would be to run or fight.
Kalmar walked. He heard the angry rattle of a snake, but ignored it. A group of elk perked its head up, saw him, and fled. He passed by a small pond of water and ran a hand through it. Then he plucked some berries off a nearby bush and tossed them into his mouth. This was not unlike his dream all that long ago, he realized. Was that where he found the inspiration?
He hoped Phystene would understand why the change needed to be made, then suddenly felt what was either regret or guilt, as if he should have talked to her about it first. Kalmar thought back to his old life, which already felt like a distant blur, yet he knew that not once had he ever shown remorse for his actions back then.
Sadness, concern, frustration, regret, guilt. Things he had not felt until he had been granted godhood, or if he had they had not gone to this extent. Were they a weakness? Was that the price of being so strong? Or was it the price of higher thought?
He stopped, pondered the question for a moment, and looked around. He realized it didn't matter.
It had been worth the trade.
In a better mood, Kalmar decides to make further changes to the continent. He gets rid of the forest surrounding the marshland, transforming it into a grassland filled with a variety of plants and animals. He walks through the new ecosystem, reflecting on how his emotions have changed. He wonders if they are a weakness, but then decides that, even if they are, he is content nonetheless.
Kalmar -2FP for small ecosystem (+1 toward Foraging portfolio, as the ecosystem has a variety of edible plants and berries.)
Remaining MP: 3 Remaining FP: 1
Portfolios in Progress -Fishing (3/5) -Foraging (5/5) -Archery (1/5)
Note: The progress for the "Foraging" and "Archery" portfolios comes from long ago, around the time when Kalmar first made his sphere. Back then he spent 8FP on its ecosystems, all of which would have had foragable vegetation, and after that he also made a 1MP bow artifact (the one he still carries now.) At the time I did not record them, but it stands to reason that they should still apply.
He had confronted Shengshi. That was done. He had talked to Asceal. Also done. He needed to talk to Arae, but that could wait. What to next? Asceals warning about Melantha, Sartravius, and Katharsos still hung in his mind. He was not sure if her account was completely accurate, yet if true, he would need more allies.
Then he remembered something.
On his way to confront Shengshi, he had heard a rather strange announcement, from the creature known as Chopstick Eyes. He did not recall the specifics, but it seemed like some sort of deal, or maybe an offer of an alliance. What was he supposed to do? Call… call something. Choppy’s… Choppy’s Business Hotline, was it?
So that was what he did. ”Choppy’s Business Hotline!” he called out.
Chopstick Eyes sat at a squat amidst the many frogs of the island, imitating their pose. Her relations with the moist amphibians may not have gotten off on the right foot, so to speak, but things certainly seemed to be improving. On the whole, she had developed a fairly healthy respect for the way these beings conducted their business.
A frog inflated its throat and croaked loudly. So did she.
A frog leaned in to a bug and lunged at it with a sticky, pink tongue. So did she.
It was a good way to live.
The only problem was that the frogs were entirely too edible, and delicious. Lately she had tried to remedy that by seizing some of the curiously animate mud clumps, thickening them with soul ash, shaping them into a hopefully froggy shape, and pumping them full of inedible gunk. These new animals didn’t hop so well and were certainly browner and wrinklier, but she felt like she’d really achieved something. She ambled across the mud, mimicking their ungainly, plodding stride.
…
Ribbit.
…
Oh, an order, thought Chopstick, hopping off in the appropriate direction. I wonder what it’s for?
Eight days later…
The troll roared and swung. Effortlessly, Kalmar ducked underneath the swinging arm and delivered a swift, mighty punch into the creature’s chest. His fist punched straight through flesh and ribs. Kalmar felt the creature’s heart pumping in his hand. Then, with a single squeeze, he crushed it.
The monster’s eyes went wide, and then it fell, landing backward with a thud. Kalmar maintained his grip on the crushed heart, which was yanked free from the troll’s chest due to the creature’s own weight.
There he stood, hand soaked with blood, heart still clenched in his fist, and he sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood to eat a troll right now - the beast had attacked him, not the other way around - yet he was obligated to if he didn’t want it to go to waste.
Fortunately, it seemed that someone else was already making plentiful use of the behemoth’s corpse.
There was a squelching sound, and the cracking of cartilage. With a plop, a single, skinny arm shot out of the hole in the troll’s chest, a single finger raised, as if to say ‘please hold’. A second later, a skewer-eyed figure thrust its blood-soaked head out of the wound.
“Hi! Thank you for calling Choppy’s Business Delivery Hotline, how can I help you?”
What.
Kalmar blinked. For a second, he didn’t even know what the strange creature was talking about. Then he recognized her, and he remembered. ”What...” he repeated aloud, his mind still befuddled.
He quickly recovered. ”What are you doing in there?”
“Meeting you,” she said matter-of-factly. One by one she dragged her limbs out of the corpse, shaking off blood like a wet dog. Then she stuck out her hand. “Sorry for not introducing myself! I have chopstick eyes. I deal in goods and services. Would you like a catalogue?”
Kalmer dropped the heart. He then took her misshapen bloodstained hand with his own equally gorey hand and shook. His hand was shortly clasped by several enthusiastic others. ”I’m Kalmar,” he said. There was a confused pause. ”Why didn’t you just send me a message?”
“...There’s a postal service?” Chopstick Eyes looked around, as if expecting to see a mailbox standing beside a nearby rock.
Kalmar had no honest idea what a postal service was, but it probably wasn’t what he was actually referring to. His eyes narrowed. ”You do know we can speak to each other telepathically?” he asked her.
Chopstick stared at him blankly. “...What’s ‘telepathically’?”
”Uh…” Kalmar paused. It wasn’t that he lacked answers. Far from it. But the Architect had bestowed such knowledge upon them when they were first brought here. Had she forgotten? Had she not been told? ”We can speak to each other across vast distances, using only our minds,” he said in the way of clarification.
“That sounds really silly. I’m sure there’s a postal service,” said Chopstick Eyes, who had scuttled off to scratch in the dirt looking for something. After throwing a few clods of earth around, she took hold of something big and firm buried under the dirt, and started yanking at it. “If you just… Hgrgrnng… Get this bit… Out hereWHOOP-” with a sudden jolt, a big, hollow iron cylinder in a coat of glossy green paint erupted from the earth, striking Chopstick square in the belly. A narrow slit, like a mouth, marked the only way into the tube.
She raised a finger from where she had collapsed on the gravel and explained. “...Like this,” she said. “You write down a message, shove it in this thing, and eventually I get my hands on it. Nothing simpler.”
”I see,” Kalmar said, not truly seeing. He glanced down at the troll corpse, and the gaping hole in its chest. ”I’m going to cook that troll. While we eat we can discuss why I called you.”
“Sounds dandy,” said Chopstick Eyes, who had never eaten troll before, but was frightfully keen to try. “Just give me a second. Rain please!” With a clap of her hands, a passing cloud divulged the entirety of its water, washing her from head to toe. “Alright, let me get dressed and I’ll be right down.”
About an hour later.
Kalmar sat near the troll corpse. He had assembled a fire from branches, twigs, leaves, and logs. A stick was in his hand, and impaled at the end of it was a generous slab of troll meat. He held it over the open flame, roasting it. It was almost done. Chopstick Eyes watched, drooling visibly.
For her part, she had not stood idle, though her interest in Kalmar’s peculiarly rustic method had prevented her from interfering with the cooking process itself. Instead she’d set up a table for two, with neatly folded napkins, a scented candle, a welcoming tablecloth, and a splendid display of cutlery, none of which she intended to use.
“This whole… Bushmeat thing. This is kind of your deal, right, Kalmar? Mph, sorry.” She wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
Kalmar looked at her blanky. ”I’m the God of the Hunt, so yes.” He pulled the troll meat close, and sniffed it. Yes, it was done. He stood and carried it over to the table, uncertain why gods like her and Shengshi went to so much trouble over a simple meal. He pulled the troll meat off the stick, split it in two, and dropped a piece on each plate. ”You know you could have picked up a stick and cooked a piece as well?”
“Didn’t want to steal your thunder,” said Chopstick, who had kicked aside one of the expensive chairs and was sitting on an old log instead. “Better to watch people do their thing, maybe learn a trick or two. Y’know?” She gnawed at the meat, smacking her lips.
Kalmar bit into the troll meat as well. In truth, his own eating habits were little better than Chopstick’s. The meat was tough and strong, yet had a surprisingly delicious flavour to it. He noted that the objects which passed for her eyes were similar to the utensils Shengshi used for eating. It made him wonder if she had gotten into a dispute with the snake, and perhaps Shengshi stabbed her in the eyes, but then he recalled she had looked that way at the Architect’s palace as well.
As far as eyes went, it seemed a practical choice - if she could still see out of them, there were no real drawbacks, and if the ends of the chopsticks were sharp enough then they could be weaponized too. Not many creatures could stab people with their eyes.
”What services do you offer?” Kalmar asked between bites.
“Oh yeah, the catalogue. Thought you might be after that,” said Chopstick, wiping her fingers (but not on her dress; she seemed to have at least that much sensibility), and producing a large stack of brown paper from her bag. On the front page as an ink scribble loosely identifiable as herself, and some vaguely meaningful squiggles down the margins. She flicked through the pages, revealing more crude finger-paintings.
“Catering, cleaning, sorting, sales, analysis, animals, animals in hats, animals in big hats, skydiving, spacediving, personal training, weather control, loving friendship, ear washing, dynasty planning, delivering those little cushions you stick pins in, assassination, custom dakimakuras, luggage security… Yeah, I think that’s basically it,” she said.
”Assassination?” Kalmar asked.
“If it seems like harmless fun,” she shrugged. “I don’t like taking jobs that need me to be… rude.”
Kalmar wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but decided not to question it. ”Do you offer alliances?” he asked instead.
This was a curious question. An alliance, Chopstick knew, was a military term, a bond formed from a thin layer of sentiment sprayed upon a core of practical need. “...I did say loving friendship, didn’t I?” she said eventually, with hesitation. “But, hey, I can write you a custom contract, no problem. Were you looking for an alliance? What for?”
Kalmar nodded, his expression grim. ”Some of the other gods would like to see all of us dead, and our creations destroyed. I, Phystene, Ashalla, Shengshi, and Asceal have formed an alliance to protect each other against these threats. We are looking for new members. Do you want to join?”
The chopstick eyes pointed off to where the stars were rising in the distance, and stayed there for a little while. She put the papers down on the log. She was not frowning, but she was no longer smiling, either.
“To strike back as a whole when a single member is struck is the essence of many an alliance. To join together to monopolise violence upon a subject is the essence of many others. It’s a line that blurs easily. It’s collusion.” Her foot drew circles in the dirt. She still hadn’t looked back at Kalmar.
“Phystene and Asceal… Other gods? I haven’t met them. I’ve met Ashalla, but I don’t know her. I know Shengshi, a little. I don’t know you. Gods with… bad intent… I haven’t met them, either. You haven’t even given me their names. It doesn’t matter too much, I guess. Still...” She looked back.
“I can write you a contract. No problem. I’ll do my best to defend you and a list of assets from harm so long as you don’t start shit. Or, even if you do start shit... You’ll have to say which assets, and what you mean by harm. And when you intend to renew the contract, obviously. I can scale the price, too, to defend however much you’re willing to pay for the safety of… But as it stands, no. No alliances for me. Only friendship.” Then, after a moment, she realised the nature of what she had said, and chuckled. “Wow. Feels weird to do actual business.”
Kalmar thought he vaguely understood what she meant, and considered accepting her offer… but the idea of paying additional and continuous costs for what was supposed to be a simple mutually beneficial agreement did not sit well with him either. He wasn’t even certain if her definitions of ‘friendship’ or ‘alliance’ were the same as his. ”I see,” he said neutrally. ”Friendship… you will still come to my aid? What is your price?”
She shrugged. “Just be a good dude. I won’t stop a good fair fight for a good fair reason, for sure, but sometimes people are impolite. It’s rude to be impolite.” She picked up the paper and ruffled it for a second, humming, then threw it on the wavering fire. “You really should give the contract idea a think-through, though. I’m not unreasonable. Heck, I’d probably fight someone for fun if you paid my travel expenses, and they didn’t take it too seriously. You have skills that I don’t. I’m sure you could get yourself at least some basic insurance without stressing your accounts too much.”
”You’re a god,” Kalmar pointed out, ”Travel costs nothing.”
“Slow travel costs nothing,” she corrected.
”Slow as in flying across the world, or slow as in hiding yourself inside a troll and waiting for the right moment to climb out?”
She cocked her head. “What the devil makes you think I can fly?”
”We can all fly,” Kalmar told her with another look of confusion.
Chopstick stared in complete bewilderment, then raised her arms. “With… my hands?”
”Just… concentrate on flying, and fly.” Kalmar suggested.
The little gremlin god took a deep breath, stretched out numerous arms, crouched, and leapt, flapping earnestly. There was a crash from above.
“...No luck!” came a yell from a nearby bough.
Kalmar frowned, unsure of how he was to adequately explain one of their most basic and natural abilities. It was so simple, so taken for granted, that he was simply unable to put it into words. He took another bite of the troll meat, and in silence he waited for her to come back down. She did so shortly, in a crash of leaves. Shaking herself out and taking another deep breath, she crouched again, readying her arms.
”Wait…” Kalmar cut in, holding up a hand. He decided to turn the conversation back to business. ”I can offer you the rest of that troll corpse, the heart, and this direwolf cloak on my shoulders,” he frowned. ”But first I need to hear what goods you offer too.”
“Goods! Thought you’d never ask.” Choppy cracked her knuckles, her ill-planned flying ambition apparently forgotten. “I’m afraid I can’t offer an impressive price for the cloak or more troll. Though it is fashionable... But you made these trolls, didn’t you?”
”I did,” Kalmar admitted, unsure where she was going with this.
“And the griffins, and the forest?”
”The griffins, yes. The forest, no.” Kalmar answered.
“Hm. That’s fine. Can you,” she asked, “Help me catch a fish?”
”I can,” Kalmar told her, not understanding why she couldn’t do such a thing herself. Then again, she couldn’t even figure out how to fly either. He felt as though he was wasting his time, but there was something amusing about her. ”What would I get in return?”
“Keep your cards close to your chest, don’cha?” Chopstick smirked. “Well. You’re looking for goods that will keep you, and your friends, safe. So you say. That’s fine. You don’t seem to know who’s coming for you, how, or when, or at least you’re not letting on. That’s fine too! For me, anyway.”
Chopstick Eyes reached into the collar of her dress and from it flourished a delicate scarf, glowing with the unmistakable sheen of fine silk. Upon it was printed the image of a knife, emerging from the ellipsoid cylinder of an ivory sheath.
“I can’t fight what I don’t know. But I can make sure that, when the threat comes, neither you nor your pactmates will ever be caught without a blade. If I make this knife in your name, it will always be there for anyone you would see protected. When their guns have jammed and their swords are dull, it will be waiting. When the ambush falls, they will find it in their hand. When the prison gates lock, they will lock on a prisoner armed. Only one friend of yours will ever hold it at a time, but methinks that friend will be very, very grateful.” She grinned.
“All you have to do is collar me a fish.”
In truth, when Kalmar had mentioned goods, all he actually meant was furniture for his lodge. The knife, however, seemed far more useful. ”What else does this knife do, and is there a specific fish you need?” he questioned.
“I will teach it to cut gods,” said Chopstick Eyes, “And, um, yes. There is a specific fish.” She paused, tapped her foot, and looked at the sky through the canopy. “You can fly fast, right? Take me to the deepwater basin west of the continent shaped like a foot. I’ll… You’ll see.”
Kalmar considered her words, and he believed he knew which area she was referring to. Yet the thought that he would have to carry her all that way, when he was certain she should have been capable of flight on her own, did not sit well with him. Then, an idea came into his head. ”The knife will be payment for the fish. For the price of carrying you there, I need something else.” He looked her square in the eye, and the next words he spoke were absolutely serious.
”I need furniture for my home.”
”We’re here.”
Kalmar floated in the sky, carrying Chopstick with one hand. She dangled like a limp kitten. The coastline of Dragon’s Foot was to the east, the far larger coastline of Atokhekwoi to the west, and several hundred meters beneath them was the vast, dark blue sea. ”What fish are you looking for out here?” he questioned.
“A big one,” said Chopstick, who had started to squirm. “It’s better if I show you. Besides, it’ll probably come when I call… Uh… Lemme just… Whoop!” She slipped out of her dress, and, with a flip, plummeted to the ocean below. There was a very distant plop.
“The water’s nice!” she exclaimed from below, and disappeared, diving deep into the black abyss.
Kalmar frowned, and allowed himself to fall. At this height, he struck the water with a colossal splash, and he realized the impact might have killed him had he not been a god. He sank dozens of feet, before forcing himself to a stop. His frown remaining, he scanned the surrounding water for Chopstick Eyes, or the unknown fish she had come here to catch.
It was only his divine vision that allowed him to catch a glimpse of her through the brine. With the practice of someone who had spent some time following the deep currents already, Chopstick Eyes was diving, descending, burying herself in crushing water, heading straight for the bed where the darkness lay.
The speck below him turned for a second, and beckoned; Her dress and satchel followed her, zipping into the abyss as if realising they were late. By the time Kalmar had reached the seabed, she had dressed, and was wrangling something like an enormous umbrella from her purse. Enough time had passed to cover the bedrock in a layer of siliceous ooze, and she stood ankle deep in it, looking up to greet him.
Glubglub glubglubglub, she said, releasing a stream of bubbles from her mouth. In a spare arm, a paper lantern on a stick burned with jolly disregard for pressure or air. Nothing else moved.
Sighing internally, Kalmar waited in the darkness, taking care to remain aware of his surrounds and thus capable of dealing with any sudden threat. He began wondering why she had brought him out here, to this place, and perhaps she did not wish to catch a fish after all. Perhaps it was a trap for him instead. He did not know.
A moment’s grunting pinged through the water, and with a flap, the umbrella finally whooshed open. Glub glub! Chopstick Eyes fitted it into its stand. Beneath it, the water disappeared, like rain, or sunlight beneath a parasol. The boundary was imperceptible, but it was suddenly clear that she was standing in dry air.
“Okay, so, here’s the deal,” she began. “There’s a special Route that goes to my place, right? Like a shortcut. And it cuts through all sorts of places on Galbar. Now, while I was on my way to fill your order, I was working my way through it, trying to see if I could use it as a shortcut to anywhere else,” she said, waving the lantern about and peering into the distance. “Turns out you can’t. At best, it chucks you through an empty demiplane that just leads to some random spot on the surface. So, so much for that.” So much for arriving on time, for that matter.
“But,” she continued, “While I was getting jostled, I found this place. And I thought, hey, isn’t this Ashalla’s pad? So I went around yelling for Ashalla, but for some reason, she wasn’t down here at all. So I was alone in the deep water, and, well, I got a little frisky.”
Chopstick had stopped glancing. Her gaze was focused on a single point in the distance.
“I went looking, and found a big fish with a light on its head,” she continued, “That smelled like Orvium and forests. And this light was pretty. Really, hella pretty. And I followed it, for a while, and saw other things chasing it, and the big fish ate those things. And I thought, hey, wouldn’t that make a great marketing tactic?”
That glow, in the distance- was it… sunrise?
“So I popped into the Bazaar again, real quick, and got some, uh, fish meal, some real aquarium-grade stuff… I think. And I coul- I… Didn’t read the label all that well. And, uh...”
She looked back at Kalmar as the monster began to grow vast in the distance. Her lantern was useless now.
”Why?” the irritated message rang through Chopstick’s head. But there was no more reason to give.
The creature had once been one of Orvus’s. One of the abominations created in the fight against Phystene. The fight which had set so many events in motion. What Kalmar now floated before was yet another byproduct of that fight, brought about by Chopstick’s ill-planned meddling. This was what she wanted him to catch, and although it was well within his power, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a nuisance.
”I will deal with this.”
With a resigned sigh, Kalmar surged forward to meet the beast head-on. It shifted its gaze away from Chopstick and barreled toward him instead. Then, at the last minute, Kalmar darted upward, and as the creature passed, the force of the water swept Chopstick into the current, threatening to push him further away. Instead Kalmar grabbed one of its head fins with one hand and held on.
With the other hand, Kalmar began punching the beast in the back of the head; he did not punch hard enough to cause severe damage, but it was enough to sting, to taunt. The punches persisted, while the creature flailed, thrashed, and raged beneath him, but he held his grip. It began to slam and drag itself against the ocean floor, its immense body pushing through the silt and grinding against the bedrock, but Kalmar’s grip was unyielding.
After several several minutes, the creature began to tire. Its speed slowed, its thrashes were less forceful. Kalmar, illuminated by the creature’s glow, maintained his grip and the punches continued.
But the tired beast was not yet finished. With an almighty spasm, it unhinged its jaw, and screamed light into the void, the energy of its stolen souls escaping in a wave of sound and magic. Kalmar’s ragged hand finally dislodged from the spine, and began to flee.
GLUB
A smooth flat surface spun through the water behind Kalmar, momentarily giving him something hard to push off from. He leapt onto the creature’s fin, seized it with both hands, and sent it charging head-first directly into the sea floor.
Clouds of sand and silt billowed outward, obscuring Kalmar, the fish, and anything else within a hundred feet. Then, just as the dust was beginning to settle, Kalmar emerged from the cloud, dragging the unconscious creature toward Chopstick.
”This is what you wanted?” he asked telepathically, gritting his teeth. One of his handwraps and both of his footwraps had been torn away in the struggle. His vest was ragged, yet somehow his wolf fur cloak was mostly fine. His face and clothes were smudged with sand particles.
Chopstick Eyes did not have time to pull out another umbrella. For once, though, she seemed to be prepared. She navigated the eddies briskly with her thousand arms, joining Kalmar, carrying a long collar in her fist. It seemed to be pure steel, woven like silk.
Glubglubglub glub glubglub glub, she glubbed urgently, taking one end of the collar and motioning for Kalmar to take the other. It stretched without the slightest distortion, and they met on the other side of the creature’s neck to snap it shut. ”That’s it?” Kalmar asked, wondering what sort of enchantment the collar possessed that would keep the beast contained. It had put up quite the fight, and though he had little love for the species Orvus had created, it was almost a shame to see such a powerful creature bound like this. ”What are you going to use it for?” he asked her. Choppy bubbled, then realised that this was inconvenient, and paddled off to go find her umbrella. A cord-like chain trailed behind her, woven into the collar at a dozen places.
Not yet conscious, but dreaming, the neon leviathan contracted its sleeping muscles as if to follow the god.
“Nothing,” she shouted from a few dozen meters away, having apparently retrieved the cleaver she’d thrown for Kalmar as well. “Nothing yet. But… I don’t want the others to take it from me. And I don’t want it to go hurting them or their things, either.”
”Fair enough,” Kalmar admitted. From what he had seen thus far, he had not expected such a level of responsibility. ”It’s the right choice. Now, what about our deal?”
“I have it right here.” Chopstick untied her hair and started rummaging in it. Dozens of arms disappeared into the kelpy mass, their elbows bustling about outside. “I keep a lot of knives here… I like knives. I feel like I have an… Affinity for them. I sharpened my cleaver for this, by the way. Made it something more than a big mushroom partitioner. In case I had to… Y’know.” Her sticks were splayed, slightly, no longer focused on Kalmar.
“Point is,” she said finally, her arms flowering out of her hair, surrounding her like a halo, each bearing a different blade. “I like knives.”
”Knives are useful,” Kalmar agreed.
The two foremost hands presented a sleek ivory tube with a copper seam in the middle. Chopstick Eyes drew the blade, bright as silver, sharp as a razor, and put it in her mouth. Wincing hard but unable to blink, she pulled it to the edge of her lips and drew it out, dragging it through the left corner of her mouth, opening her face that much wider. When it was done, she buckled, clutching her stomach, and made it a bow.
"Th-there," she said, wiping the blood into a streak. "I've taught it to cut gods." She offered him the knife.
Kalmar took the knife with a nod of thanks, and then arched an eyebrow quizzically. ”Why didn’t you just cut your mouth?” he asked her. But before she could answer, he continued speaking. ”Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!” she mumbled, saluting, smiling with the good side of her face. She set about trying the monster’s chain to the shaft of the umbrella, making sure it was firmly anchored. “And… Experience is the best teacher, right?” Her sticks shifted away for a second, but soon they came back and she was smiling again, covering her lips with a spare hand. “Hey… do you think this thing has a name?”
”Probably not,” Kalmar answered, taking another moment to size the creature up. ”The Alpha Leviathan?” he suggested with a shrug.
“The Superb Slippery Soul Serpent,” Chopstick confirmed. There was movement on the end of the line, faint, though it still raised an impressive cloud of silt. “I’ll have to find some way to feed it soon. I’m thinki-”
“...” Chopstick’s eyes were splayed, and her skin was paling. “...I have to go,” she said, grabbing her cleaver, kicking off the momentary stupor. “Li’Kalla’s in trouble.”
She blurred through the deep, casting a long shadow before her in the light of the serpent, and was gone.
Kalmar decides to call Choppy’s Business Hotline, to extend an offer of invitation for her to join the alliance. Chopstick Eyes, in the midst of a critical business meeting with some frogs, hears it and begins slowly making her way to him.
Eight days later, while Kalmar is fighting a troll, Chopstick Eyes bursts forth from the troll’s chest to meet him. Kalmar is nervous, but the two exchange greetings. Before they get down to business, however, Kalmar decides that the troll must be eaten.
And so the troll is cooked, and the two sit down for what could have vaguely resembled a romantic dinner date, had they been eating something more refined than troll meat and if either of them had any concept of manners or basic human social skills.
Kalmar quickly gets down to business, and they soon settle on a Contract of Friendship: Chopstick Eyes will grant him a magical friendship knife and some furniture for his home, and in return Kalmar must fly her to the other side of the world to help her catch a fish. He agrees.
The two go to that massive gigantic undersea basin between Dragon’s Foot and Atokhekwoi from which Kirron hoisted the former, and descend into it. At the bottom, Chopstick recounts a story of how she decided to feed one of Orvus’s Leviathan Anglers, being enamoured with its hypnotic powers and their potential applications in marketing.
This feeding attempt produced a giant, shining monster serpent, that eats local souls like a whale eats krill.
The job of wrangling it falls to Kalmar, though Choppy at least sharpened her cleaver in case they had to put it down. Grabbing onto the creature’s back, he repeatedly punches it in the neck, enraging it. The attempts to dislodge it only tire it out, until finally Kalmar forces it to charge headfirst into the ocean floor, finally knocking it out.
Chopstick then proceeds to slap a collar onto the beast, and gives Kalmar the Knife of Friendship - a divine knife which will teleport into the hand of whoever Kalmar believes needs it the most, even if he doesn’t know the circumstances of their need.
Between this and the aforementioned sharpening, Chopstick racks up enough points to claim Knives. She uses it to give the Knife of Friendship an affinity for cutting gods. You can never be too safe, kids.
Then she ties up her snake, realises that Li’Kalla is in danger, and bolts.
Kalmar -Nothing
Chopstick Eyes -2FP for beast of phenomenal power, the Superb Slippery Soul Serpent / Alpha Leviathan. -1FP for a magical dog collar that prevents the Serpent from going anywhere she doesn’t want it to go, and enables it to go where she does want it to go. -1MP to turn her cleaver into a real weapon. -1MP for the Knife of Friendship. -5MP for claiming Knives.
His course took him south, toward the Eye of Desolation, the birthplace of those parrots whom he had found to be rather delicious. He had yet to actually go there himself, however, so this seemed a perfect time.
The isles came within sight, and when he reached he swooped down to get closer to the trees, peering down into the dense jungle. And then he came across a strange sight in a peculiar clearing…
The land seemed to be broken along several lines. Upon closer inspection, those lines became perfectly straight rows of rich brown soil. The length of a tall tree, perhaps more. There were only three tracts of rows like this. In the center of each there could be seen something small breaking through the dirt. Small and green. Upon the far side of the clearing, there resided a fallen tree, stripped of its branches and leaves. All that remained was a log of teal wood, and a stump, covered in shade. Sitting on that stump, unmoving and like a statue, was a God Arryn had been warned about.
His name was Orvus.
Orvus? This close to Kalgrun? The thought filled Arryn with both concern and interest. The falcon had no idea what had been done to the ground, but whatever it had been, it could not be good. Yet, although Orvus was significantly more powerful than him, the God did not seem to be so focused on the surroundings. That combined with his duty to warn his master of any potential threats was enough to compel Arryn to take a closer look.
The bird landed in a tree close to the god, and peered down inquisitively. What was he doing?
Waiting. That’s all there was too it. He had completed his duty, he had given them a home, an environment unlike his own home. Rich soil, sunlight, and plenty of water. He knew not what to plant, only that he needed to grow something. Thus, Orvus had scoured the island, searching every nook and corner for the right specimens. He knew not why he was even doing it, but he was, and he had to see it to completion. Maybe then… Maybe then something would happen. Now he was wholly focused upon the farm, waiting. Though his seedlings had taken root, he knew not how long they would take to fully mature. But he could wait and think. It seemed thinking was the only thing he did anymore, and he wasn’t even good at it.
This was not to say that he was unaware of his surroundings. In fact, he had become familiar with the area, and watched the comings and goings of the wildlife frequently. He had learned of which ones would come and try to steal what he had worked on, and of the ones who gazed with curiosity. Now it came as a surprise, a bird he had never seen in the area before land close by. Though he did not turn to gaze upon it, he could still see, and this bird looked strangely familiar.
Arryn observed the god in silence for several seconds. Was he asleep? Was he distracted? He knew not. Deciding to risk investigating further, the bird came off the tree branch and swooped down, landing in one of the dirt rows and investigating one of the green seedlings which poked through the earth.
Still, Orvus did not move as he watched the bird fly down into the rows. He was trying to place where he had seen it before. Like a distant memory, on the tip of his mind.
The bird bent down and poked once at the dirt with his beak, testing its firmness. He glanced at the seedling again. Orvus had… planted things? Yet it was so strange - why were they in such neat, organized rows? Why had they all been planted at roughly the same time? Whatever grew from this would surely look unnatural. He turned his way toward the god once more. Why had Orvus engaged in such a strange activity?
When the bird turned his head to look at him, Orvus knew its name, for he had seen such a look before. From Arya’s memories, this one had been a friend, until they parted ways. She had regretted such a thing. No mater. In but a flash of movement, he was above Arryn, gazing down impassively.
”Arryn.” he said quietly.
The bird withheld his alarm, and perked up at the mention of his name. He still held that same curious, inquisitive look, but inside he knew he was in danger. ”How do you know my name?”
”Does it matter? A god knows many things, little avatar. Now, why have you come?” he asked flatly.
”I ask the same of you,” Arryn replied guardedly. ”My master told me to explore the world.”
”I believe you.” he told Arryn, then said, ”Before you existed, and in a time when this world was but water, an asteroid struck the planet. It was created out of anger, and deflected out of love. Thus is hit, and here, to be precise. This place belongs to me.”
”But why are you here?” Arryn pressed further. ”What are you doing?”
Orvus was silent for a moment, before saying, ”I do not know why I am here, but I am.” he floated upwards and then outstretched his hand to display his work, ”This is something that will be called farming. The growing of plants. Whether to be used for food, or simply to do.” He finished, looking back down at Arryn.
Arryn did not see the point in that. ”But there are already plants,” he said, ”And you are a god. Why grow anything naturally?”
”So?” he said, ”Can one not add more? Take away?” he inquired. ”I may be a god, but why should I use my powers when I can simply wait all the same. Surely one such as you relishes the hunt, before the killing blow. You do not simply will your prey to be dead. Where is the enjoyment in that?” he finished.
Arryn decided to abandon that line of conversation. ”How did you know my name?” he repeated. ”I have never met you, and my mind is shielded from your gaze.”
”Your mind may be shielded, yes. But Arya’s was not.” he said impassively, before saying, ”You showed her kindness. Know that she regrets what she did. Greatly.” with a hint of softness in his voice.
That caught Arryn off guard, enough that his eyes widened and his beak open slightly. He regained his composure. ”Where is she? My master said she left Shengshi, but he did not tell me more.”
Orvus said nothing for a moment, the news was interesting. ”I do not know.” he finally said.
”When you saw her, what else did she say?” Arryn asked.
”She said nothing. Sleep was her calling when last we met.” Orvus stated.
”You did not speak with her?”
”No.” was all Orvus said.
”Why not?”
”I did not want to.”
Arryn paused. ”What if she wanted to?” he countered.
’Then she did not get to.” Orvus floated back down to the ground.
Hmm. The god would not budge, Arryn realized. Yet there was still one question, one that his own master had wondered. ”Why did you create something only to cast it aside?”
”You would not understand. Now leave this place, you have tarried here long enough.” Orvus said, before turning back around towards the stump.
Arryn left. Although Orvus and his master were enemies, Orvus had shown no aggression, and there was no reason for a fight. The god’s answers had been confusing, and he was not sure he believed all of them, but nothing could be gained from further questioning. Besides, at some point he would have to tell his master what happened.
He flew for some time, before landing on another tree. Only a few seconds later, another bird, this one black and white, landed on a tree nearby. Arryn looked at it curiously, and then, it began to speak.
When it was done, Arryn took flight once more, the news heavy on his mind. There was another potential threat he would need to tell his master about, it seemed.
Arryn’s travels take him south, to the Eye of Desolation. It isn’t long before he happens upon Orvus’s farm. A great deal of progress has been made, with Orvus now waiting for the plants to grow.
Believing Orvus to be in some sort of sleep or trance-like state, Arryn moves in closer to investigate. It is then that Orvus recognizes him from Arryn’s memories, and they exchange questions.
Orvus says he is farming, but does not know why. He informs Arryn of Arya’s regrets. Arryn asks why he did not want to speak with her, and why he cast her aside. Orvus avoids giving a concrete answer, then sends Arryn away.
Arryn leaves, but then spots one of K’nell’s magpies, who tells him the story of Vakk’s aggression against Li’Kalla.
Arryn was perched atop a half-eaten troll corpse. The troll’s body was covered with lacerations, the throat had been slashed, and the eyes had been gouged out. The falcon’s master had told him to stay here, and so he had, but the local troll population had others ideas, it seemed. There had been a pack of them - four to be exact - but after he killed one and viciously wounded the others, they retreated, leaving trails of blood.
Arryn bent down and plucked another beakful of flesh from the corpse, when he sensed a familiar presence nearby.
”Arryn,” Kalmar greeted the bird.
Arryn inclined his head to regard him. ”Master.”
”The dispute with Shengshi is resolved. Avoid him and there should be nothing to worry about.” Kalmar told him, kneeling to inspect the troll corpse. ”As for Arya… gone. She left him, and I don’t know where she went.”
That brought both sadness and relief. Arryn did not know where she was, but at least she was no longer held prisoner by that vile serpent.
”I need to go talk to Asceal,” Kalmar told him sternly. ”You won’t come with me. Continue scouting out the world for information. Do not give in to despair again.”
Arryn nodded, and the two took flight, each headed in a different direction.
”Asceal,” Kalmar sent out the telepathic message, ”Where are you?”
“Kalmar?” The Goddess answered, “Ah. I’ve been expecting to hear from you. I’m in the Lustrous Garden at the moment.
”How do I get to it?”
There was a long pause before Asceal spoke again, and when she did it was with some hesitation, “You- You need to find the tallest mountain on my Island, Istais, its peak is obscured by clouds. The entrance to the Garden is there, right above the peak and hidden by the clouds. I’ll be waiting.”
Kalmar instinctively nodded, although Asceal would not be able to see it. He was already heading toward Istais, so it was simply a matter of speeding his course.
Kalmar arrived to find that it looked much as it did in the memories of Arryn. Nearly all life on it was glowing. How strange. He watched the land pass beneath him, and aside from some wolves or bears, he noticed a distinct lack of predators. He imagined some of the trolls or griffins here, their hides aglow.
He ascended to the top of the mountain, found the gateway, and crossed through it. He found himself at the top of a dome, a crystal floor far below. Using the power of flight, he lowered himself to the ground.
Asceal was waiting for him, and just behind her was a woman whose flesh was seemly made from vines. “Welcome to my home Kalmar,” The Goddess greeted him.
Kalmar looked around, noting the confined space. This was a goddess who preferred security, he assumed. He looked past Asceal, at the vine-covered woman. ”Who is that?”
Asceal looked over her shoulder and smiled at the vine woman, who was eyeing the God of the Hunt curiously, “That is Liana, my friend.” She turned back to Kalmar and sighed resignedly, her smile faltering, “I assume you’re here about my talk with Arryn, then?”
”I am,” Kalmar stated matter-of-factly. ”On one hand, I should thank you for getting him to stop flying aimlessly. On the other… I have to ask why you chose to involve yourself in my dispute, or discouraged my avatar from fulfilling his duty.”
“Because,” She spoke seriously, “Your ‘dispute’ could have affected more than just you and Shengshi. I was presented a chance to resolve the situation before it could come to violence and I took it. I’ve spoken to Shengshi and he promised to return this Arya to you, if he hasn’t already.”
”Until Arryn came back to me, I thought any dispute I had with him had been resolved. It was Shengshi who caused it, not I.” Kalmar explained. ”As for Arya, she was never mine to take, nor was she Shengshi’s to give. She’s gone, anyway. Shengshi withheld some information about her father, and when she found out she left in a rage.”
Asceal pinched the bridge her nose in frustration and looked up for a moment before letting go and speaking, “I see. Well then, have you two at least put this feud behind you? I don’t care who started it. The fact you were both willing to fight over words is bad enough.”
”Threats are more than just words,” Kalmar told her. ”And I didn’t want this feud any more than you did. But I told Shengshi what would happen if he threatened me. I gave my word, so I had to act, or else no one would have reason to trust me or take me seriously. Anyway, the dispute is resolved.”
“As long as you aren’t going to kill each other,” Asceal smiled weakly.
”I never intended to kill him over this,” Kalmar interrupted before she could go on. ”Why would you think that?
“It doesn’t matter what you intended,” She explained, “I’ve spoken to Shengshi, as have you. Perhaps all would have been well Kalmar, but I took the time to make sure he was willing to pay your price before you asked for it. Whatever it was in the end.”
”In any case, it’s done,” Kalmar said. ”But there is another matter. Have you heard of what Orvus did to Phystene? I’ve been trying to form an alliance against him, to defend creation against him and others like him. Phystene, Ashalla, and Shengshi have joined. Will you?”
Asceal raised her eyebrows in surprise, “I was under the impression I already had. I spoke with Phystene some time ago and she told me what Orvus did.”
Kalmar frowned at that. ”Communication needs to be improved, then. I had not been told.” He carefully considered his next words. ”There is another thing to add. I spoke with Orvus recently.”
It was the Goddess’s turn to frown at that, “You did? Why? Orvus is a danger to all of us. If he’d attacked you what would you have done?”
Kalmar shrugged. ”I would have fought back, and I would have killed him. I have been fighting my entire life. Anyway, I needed to determine his motivation, and if there was a chance to avoid open warfare… it might have been slim, but it was worth taking. Besides, recent events led me to think that he might not be as obsessed with destruction as I originally thought.”
“And?” Asceal asked.
Kalmar shrugged once again. ”He said his soul was frayed. He couldn’t feel life. I told him to fix it, or get over it and change. He told me he would rather die, and drag the rest of us with him. I told him he was making excuses - he wanted to live, and that nonsense about destroying everything was just an excuse for why he hadn’t ended himself yet. He left without responding, so I think I was right. Either way, I don’t know if my words had any effect, which is why I’m still maintaining the alliance.”
She ran a hand through her glowing hair and met Kalmar’s gaze, “It was a mistake to confront him, then. You can say you’d have killed him Kalmar, but if it were that simple Phystene would be dead already. We can’t afford to take unnecessary risks, especially given the number of our peers determined to destroy us and everything we’ve built.”
Kalmar frowned. ”Who else?” he asked. ”I know only of Orvus.”
“Sartravius,” Asceal recited, “He’s already scoured an island of life. Melantha, she attacked Aelius in his own home. Katharsos, he’s murdered almost all the souls that followed us to this universe by now.” She scowled and looked away to compose herself before going on, “And I expect others will make their natures known, in time.”
”Did you find out why they did those things?” Kalmar asked.
“There’s no point speaking to the mad Kalmar. We were tasked to create, and they have all taken it upon themselves to destroy.” The Goddess grew tense and took a moment to breath before she continued, “I have no interest in the excuses of killers.”
Kalmar’s frown deepened. ”What if I had decided Shengshi was mad, and chose to kill him instead of resolving the dispute through other means? When the bear hunts a deer to feed its young, is the bear mad? You call them mad, but you say you haven’t spoken with them, so how can you know?”
Asceal eyed Kalmar disbelievingly, “Shengshi insulted you Kalmar. He-”
Once more, Kalmar cut in before she could finish. ”He threatened to kill my avatar, and might have if not for Arya. That goes beyond insults.” He shook his head.”I am asking these questions to gain more information before I come to a judgement. If what you say is true, then yes, they are obstacles that need to be disposed of. But I would not call them mad. Everyone acts for a reason, and we need to know what those reasons are before we decide that.”
“Even Orvus?” Asceal fumed, “Because you have explained his reasons to me, and they are mad. Incomprehensibly so. I can understand why Melantha attacked me and Aelius, but that doesn’t not forgive her action nor change the fact that she chose violence over words. As for Sartravius and Katharsos? They have destroyed, they have wrought chaos and suffering, and there is no explanation which exists that would absolve them of that.”
She paused and again took the time to compose herself. Her body had begun to glow furiously by the time she reigned herself in and suppressed it. Once she was dimmer than usual she went on, her voice far softer, “Shengshi nearly made a terrible mistake, but the difference is he didn’t. Arryn is alive. Sartravius and Katharsos victims are not. Phystene is merely lucky Orvus only injured her. There is a difference between right and wrong Kalmar, and once someone has crossed that line their actions will always overshadow their words.”
Once again, Kalmar shook his head. ”Orvus is mad. I never said he wasn’t. I know he is mad because I spoke to him and heard his reasons. The reason why the question of their madness is important, is because it will determine how they are to be approached. A mad beast will lash out violently - it will not back down, but that recklessness can also be exploited. A sensible creature is less prone to lashing out, and will instead use cunning. An explanation won’t absolve them, but in order to beat something you need to understand it.”
Asceal fell silent and, out of habit, flicked her forehead in frustration. Eventually she spoke, “Yes. You’re right. Go ahead and speak to them then Kalmar, I think this has proven I’m not suited for that.”
Kalmar’s frown vanished. She had seen reason. Good. Yet a question remained. ”What do you intend to do next?” he asked.
“Prepare,” She spoke without hesitation, “Just as I have been doing, just as others have been doing. I can’t be everywhere, so I’ll make others who can watch over Galbar in my place. Who can intervene before all that’s left to do is sweep up the ashes.”
”What would they intervene in? And how?” Kalmar asked her.
“Destruction, chaos, suffering. And by whatever means necessary.” She looked up to the portal, “I know they won’t be able to fight a god. Even all together. I don’t believe they’ll have to, though. If, as you say, some of our adversaries are ‘sensible’ then they’ll reach the same conclusion I have. More hands can accomplish more, regardless of what it is they do.”
”What is stopping you from creating these beings right now?” Kalmar asked. Surely she had plenty of time to do so.
Asceal stopped and looked back at Liana, who studiously hid the small teacup she had in her hand behind her back. The Goddess, rather obviously, faked a cough, “I hadn’t had the time, yet. You’re right though, there’s nothing stopping me from doing it right now.”
She looked around the room for a moment and then added sheepishly, “Except for the size of this room. If you’d permit it, I’ll return to Galbar to do it.”
”You don’t need my permission to leave your own sphere.” Kalmar told her. ”I’ll go with you.”
The Goddess waved to Liana and unfurled her wings, shooting up and through the portal with a single flap. Kalmar nodded at Liana, and then followed Asceal, wondering just how large she intended to build these creatures. He was also somewhat wary of their purpose - what chaos and suffering would they put a stop to? In his mind, some suffering was necessary. Still, he crossed through the portal with her anyway.
Kalmar met Asceal on the rocky mountain top below the portal. The Goddess stood there for a moment, no doubt considering how to go about making the creatures she’d described. For a long while she was impassive, but eventually grin grew on her face. She raised her hand and a great light ignited before the two gods. It started as a single point, but soon it became a glowing humanoid shape that at least vaguely resembled Asceal. It was also enormous. Hundreds of times taller than either of the gods. After it had been formed the creature slowly lost its glow, revealing a massive white masculine figure. It had vast wings on its back in an approximation of its maker, but these were covered in white feathers. In fact, most of the creature was. Looking at its face Kalmar could see that all but its eyes were obscured by enormous feathers.
Asceal eventually lowered her hand, but the creature did not stir. She smiled at Kalmar and announced, “Two more, before I wake them.”
Kalmar shrugged. ”Continue.”
Asceal frowned briefly, but did as he said. The second of the creatures was much like the first, but had a distinctly feminine form. The two of them lay in the snow before the gods, their feet more than half way down the slope of the mountain. Asceal didn’t bother to speak to Kalmar before making the third.
As she created the final creature, its shape masculine like the first, she began to blink rapidly and her arm started to quiver. Her breathing became strenuous and she fell to one knee. She looked at the last of her creations, but this one was only half formed. It had no feathers, and more disturbingly it looked deflated. She muttered, “Just ah, just a moment.” As she controlled her breathing.
With another frown, Kalmar stepped in. He added his own power to Asceal’s, and helped shape the angel as he had watched her shape the previous ones. The final result was very similar to the others, though the one difference that immediately stood out were the feathers; nearly half of them were brown rather than white, making the creature almost spotted in appearance. The brown was more concentrated around the wings and the torso than the legs.
Asceal stood and regarded the final creature, eventually flashing Kalmar a smile and brightening a tad, “Thank you.”
”Didn’t want to leave the creature incomplete.” Kalmar said, observing the creation. He thought the brown was preferable to the white. ”If I need help to build something in the future, will you return the favour?”
The Goddess nodded, “Of course.” Before turning her attention back to the creatures below. She sighed, “I can’t have them this large all the time.”
She raised her hand and the three creatures shrunk down to beings no larger than she and Kalmar. She flew out and collected each one. It took only a moment before the three sleeping creatures were laid out before the two gods.
They looked much like Kalmar, save for their nakedness and the long wings sprouting from their backs. Two had long blond hair, and one had shorter brown locks. Asceal waved a hand and clothed them in white robes much like those Aelius had fashioned for himself on Heliopolis.
The Goddess knelt down to the first and rested a hand on its head, and its eyes shot open. It cried out in what seemed to be fear, but she quickly embraced it and spoke softly, kindly, “All is well child. You’re awake now, and I’ve shown you the things you’ll need to know in the days to come.”
She repeated the act twice more, each time the being below her crying out before she soothed it. Once she was done she helped all three to their feet. The stood before the gods, all glowing faintly, and Asceal smiled at them lovingly as she spoke, “You’re all awake now, my children. Now all you need is names.”
”What will you call them?” Kalmar asked.
Asceal regarded the three, and they looked back at her with anticipation. She eventually stepped up to the first, the blond male, and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You will be… A…. Aaaa… Ak… Akam!” She declared.
She stepped over to the next one, the blond woman, and looked into her eyes. “And you will be… El… Eline!” Asceal hugged the woman and moved on.
The last was the one with brown hair, who could attribute its existence as much to Kalmar as to her. She glanced back at Kalmar, but the god of Hunting’s disinterested expression seemed to ward off any questions she might have had. She held the brown haired man’s hand. “Your name will be… M…. Mak… Makab!” She nodded and smiled at the three.
“You three are my children, my Luminous Ones.” She said happily.
And Shengshi thought I was bad at names… Kalmar thought to himself. He turned to Asceal. ”If that is all, then I think I will be on my way.” he extended a hand.
Asceal gave him a wide smile and shook his hand, “You have my thanks Kalmar. I’ll be returning to my sphere with these three.” She gestured to them, “If you ever want to speak with me, you’re always welcome to visit.”
Kalmar nodded. ”Thank you.” With those scant words, he took flight and went on his way.
Kalmar visits Asceal. They talk about Asceal’s intervention, and the godly baddies. Kalmar convinces Asceal she should probably learn more about the mean gods before she kicks their doors down and stabs them. She makes some kids, Kalmar helps.
Might Costs:
Asceal: -5 MP Making the Luminous Ones (3 Heros) -2FP Giving the Luminous Ones humanesque forms
“This is where the fun begins.” - Anakin Skywalker
Kalmar frowned with confusion upon witnessing Shengshi’s first insult toward him. Hadn’t their dispute been resolved? He thought they had come to an understanding. Then came further insults, as well as a threat. He felt Arryn’s rage which only served to amplify his own, and he was soon grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. That… that fool… His words had been clear.
”Insult me, deceive me, or threaten me again, and I will make you answer for it,” Kalmar repeated aloud.
And so the snake must answer for it.
He continued observing the memories. He witnessed Arya’s decision to send Arryn away, which caught him off guard, but he was unsure of her motives so he did not make any sudden judgement. Then he was disappointed to see that Arryn had fallen to despair afterward, and he saw the falcon’s conversation with Asceal. He saw her convince Arryn down a path of mild disloyalty, and then she decided to resolve his dispute before it became known.
Kalmar frowned. What gave her the right?
”You stay here,” he ordered Arryn, a slight growl in his voice, as he took flight and set off once again.
Arya awoke suddenly, her breath shallow and fast, almost as if she had a bad dream. As her eyes adjusted, she faced a strange sight, for some reason, she was looking down at her empty bed. She blinked once, twice, but the image still remained. She quickly looked around to find that the ceiling was extremely close to her, and only then did it set in that she was floating. Floating? Her eyes went wide as she began to panic, flailing about in the sheet that still covered her.
Not knowing what else to do, she screamed for help.
Not even a second passed before the door swung open. Ten servants stormed in, circling the screaming Arya in a primitive form of panic, each occasionally skipping into the air in an attempt to grab her. Most of them merely licked off her back and fell back into bed, though.
Arya was touched by the servants trying to get to her, but even their tiny bodies couldn’t quite reach. What else could she do? Could she move? Arya’s breath became slower as she began to calm down, panicking wasn’t that answer. In fact, she was probably in the safest place in the ship to figure this out. So, she moved her arms about, trying to see if that was what controlled her sudden floating self, but in actuality, it probably looked incredibly silly. When this did nothing, she let out a loud sigh and looked down at the water servants.
”Guys… Guys! Instead of jumping around, why don’t you try something else?” she said in a defeated manner.
The globules all stopped in their tracks to think, promptly exploding in a spectacle of water that doused the bed, the floor and all of Arya’s back.
She said nothing for a moment before she began to giggle, which then turned into full blown laughing. ”Guys!” she said with happy tears streaming down her face, ”That’s not what I had in mind.”
Another train of servants came in through the door, but upon seeing the puddles, they zoomed right back out. A moment later, they came in with towels and mops and began to wipe what had once been the other servants off the floor and the bed.
This display prompted Arya to laugh until her sides began to hurt, at the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. The water globules were so useless, but at the same time, they tried, even if it didn’t help. She had to get to her master, he would know what was wrong with her. If only she could just… just get there and suddenly her body began to move before it stopped. Her eyes went wide as her laughter was replaced by the clean up below her.
She was trying so hard to use her body to fly, that she hadn’t even thought about using her head! Arya spun herself around by using the ceiling, and faced the door. She then took a deep breath and thought about flying in that direction. Her body began to move, faster then she had anticipated and Arya ended up slamming into the wall opposite of the entryway. The blow stung a bit, but she shrugged it off, she had done it! Determination welled up inside of her, and Arya began the journey to her Master’s quarters, slowler this time. Every now and then, she would jerk faster then what she wanted. It was a challenge to maintain the proper speed, so it became her primary focus.
As she zoomed through the banquet hall, the ruckus below first redoubled, then stopped as all manners of servants had taken just a moment to use their poor excuses for perception and observe what was floating in the air above, prompting a mass popping of globules and subsequent dropping of cutlery and silverware. She soared up the stairwell and ended up in front of the gates to Shengshi’s chambres way faster than normal, just as the snake flung the doors open. He regarded Arya somberly, suspiciously and quizzically.
“I heard a ruckus,” he said. “Also, when did you learn to fly?”
Arya about flew into Shengshi but stopped in her tracks, and willed herself to float upright at his eye level. She crossed her arms and said, ”Oh Master! Some of… uh… some of the water globules are… dead?” she paused before saying, ”I- This Servant woke up floating so… I- This servant… learned on the fly how to… fly?” she said smirking. ”This servant was hoping you might know why.”
The snake raised a brow, his lips curling into a smirk. “If that so? Well, come in, then. Also, do not mind the servants. They will come back shortly.” The snake turned around and slithered inside, beckoning Arya to follow.
“Now… Tell me, did you have any odd dreams while you slept?”
Feeling relieved that the servants weren’t actually dead for good, Arya floated after her master and joined him like many times before, in his chambers. It looked different, being so high up. The room looked smaller somehow.
”Hmmm,” Arya pondered aloud, ”This servant can’t remember any dreams.” she said.
“Mhm-mhm, I see. Did you happen to wake up during your sleep and see anything?”
”N-No?” she said suddenly very confused and worried. ”What happened?” she asked.
The snake plucked pensively at his beard. He hummed ponderously for a moment. “No, nothing happened. My analysis is that your proximity to divinity has rubbed off on you, infusing your soul with fragments of our holy spirits. As such, you have been given flight through soul mutation.” He flicked his tongue and leaned his cheek on his fist as he sat down.
“How peculiar,” he mused.
Worry and confusion melted away from Arya’s heart and she was suddenly very happy. She squealed aloud, ”Oh wonderful! Ever since Ary took me flying, I’ve wanted to do so! I mean… This servant is very thankful, my Lord.” she said calming down again.
She looked at her master, suddenly serious. ”Last night… This servant shouldn’t have ran away. This servant is, sorry.” she said softly.
The snake held up a palm. “Your reaction was natural. It was I who prompted it - thus the fault is mine. I trust Arae helped soothe your troubled mind, then?”
”She did a little.” but she looked to Shengshi again and her eyes welled up with tears, ”But why? Why would you not give me a choice?” she asked shakely.
The snake lifted an eyebrow and let out a sigh. “A choice, huh…” He gestured to the slider door, which was open to reveal the outside. “You make a compelling argument. Why should I not give you a choice? In truth, I had not considered it an option: A servant should be obedient to its lord without error; in return, a lord should never ask a servant to act as the lord themself would not. Though, it should be noted that a lord who would be willing to sacrifice much for a servant should not be faulted for expecting the same in return.” He looked at Arya with a reptilian gaze. “Tell me, what would you do with your freedom?”
Arya thought upon his words and shut her eyes before speaking, ”Master… When this serva- When I came here, I pledged myself to you and your teachings, so that I could learn and grow and become who I was meant to be. And I have learned so, so much from you. For this I will be forever grateful, but you are mistaken in one regard. My freedom is choice. When you told me that I didn’t have that, the one basic right all of us should have, I was devastated. I had thought we were beyond that, ever since you forced me to come aboard without asking. That’s all I ever wanted. I may have willingly gave myself up to your teachings, but Master, please- I am my own person. Not some bargaining chip so that you might stop some family quarrel. Mortal as I might be, Uncle, I am family too.” she paused before continuing, ”I sacrificed my friendship with Arryn so that I could save him from injury, and I would sacrifice for you as well, if it meant putting an end to the feud with Kalmar. All you had to do, was ask. T-That’s all.”
The snake was silent. Then, after a pause, he began to snicker, then laugh, then cackle loudly. Arya seemed to shrink at this, and her eyes went wide. Had she offended him to the point of madness? Oh no...
The guffaw subsided and the snake took some deep breaths to recuperate.
“It is funny. I demand all this shallow respect from all whom I meet, and show them the same, because I am a creature of principles - I like to think of myself as such, anyway. I have criticised, mocked and even threatened those who break with these principles, all because I am certain that these principles will bring about prosperity and harmony in time. I have started feuds and nearly wars with beings as strong as me, and yet…” He stood up.”... Here you stand, a creature I could end with a single thought, acting as if we are brother and sister.”
He flicked his tongue. “It is simultaneously adorable and infuriating.”
After a while, he turned around. “Fine. Have it your way.”
As she listened to her master speak, she grew still. After a long moment, Arya floated over to Shengshi and placed a small hand on his shoulder. The snake gently shoved the hand away.
“Forgetting yourself, -Arya-,” he hissed.
She recoiled, a silent tear running down her face. She had upset him, rightfully so but upon hearing her own name, and not Anxin, she grew… angry?
”No…” she whispered, ”No! You do not get to call this servant by that name, master.” she said angrily.
”All this servant ever wanted to do, was make her master PROUD! To feel apart of something! So go ahead, sulk, be angry, be offended. But do not call this servant Arya. You named this one ANXIN.” she finished, breathing heavily. Noticing that her hands were smoking.
The snake snickered. “Much better. Had you not included all the ‘be this, be that’ nonsense, you may have approached something resembling the manners I have been trying to teach you. Manners are not about something as shallow as seeking validation; they are closer to the core than that, integral to society. Do you think I act as I do so the others will tell me how polite I am?”
Arya sighed, ”This servant, apolo-”
There was a sudden loud thud, and the ship rocked slightly from the impact. ”SHENGSHI!” Kalmar’s voice boomed throughout the ship. ”Get down here!”
”Oh no…” Arya whispered aloud.
She heard that voice and her eyes suddenly went wide, completely forgetting everything that they had just been fighting about. Her only concern became that of calming the dispute, and keeping the two God’s from killing each other.
The snake let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Every time.“
Arya looked to Shengshi and began to speak, ”This servant wishes that her holiness, her master of master’s, stays here for but a moment!” she said before flying out the open door into the vast blue of the sky. She circled down to the deck of the ship, where she saw Kalmar.
”Kalmar!” she said enthusiastically before attacking his arm in a hug. ”Oh what are you doing here!” she asked, still holding on.
Kalmar frowned. He had not expected this. Where was the snake? Did he cower below deck? He had thought her confinement here was unwilling, yet it almost seemed as though she had been given free run of the place. ”Keeping a promise,” he told her. There was a pause, and then he added: ”Are you being held captive?”
”What? No! Of course not, Master would never… Well… I’m not any more!” she paused, not helping the situation in the slightest, ”What promise!” she asked, almost demanding.
Kalmar did not answer her question. Instead, he responded with two more, his voice more confused than demanding. ”’Master’? ‘Any more’? Then his eyes widened with realization. ”Damn him, he has conscripted you into his pack!”
She let go of Kalmar and floated to meet his eyes, ”No! No! You have it all wrong! I am willingly serving under him, learning what I can so that I can grow and win, just like you said!” she said, forgetting the proper etiquette of her station.
Kalmar frowned at that. Not at the breach in Shengshi’s imaginary etiquette, but at her words. ”You willingly gave up your freedom? And to do so you sent Arryn into despair? How does that help you win?”
Her heart broke when Kalmar told her of Arryn, it had never been her intention to hurt the small bird. More alarming was Kalmar’s chastising. If anything, she thought he would understand.
”N-No...Ary? I… did it to protect him… I never wanted him to hurt…” she said softly.
”Perhaps you did protect him,” Kalmar conceded. ”Yet why did you not convince him to leave with you? Why did you bind yourself to Shengshi?
”I… I thought… That’s what you would have wanted… So I could… So I could make it home one day…” she said, her voice shaking.
”I never would have wanted you to give up your freedom,” Kalmar told her. Then paused. ”What do you consider home? Kalgrun, or Veradax?”
”I have my freedom, “ she said, ”Veradax is my home, where I was born. Where my father is. I have to… I have to go there…” she seemed to finish in a whisper. Kalgrun was dear to her, it was, but she had to see Veradax and her father. It was a compulsion she barely understood, and it scared her.
That gave Kalmar pause. He tried to convince her that her father was wrong, that he was unstable, yet she still wanted to see him regardless. ”How does serving Shengshi help you accomplish that?”
”I… I don’t know. Perhaps… Perhaps he’ll listen to me if I know how to talk and act properly…” she said sadly.
”I suspect your father cares even less for that nonsense than I do.” Kalmar told her. ”While you and Arryn went to Dragon’s Foot, I went to speak with him. I got through to him with directness, not by bandying words. I do not know if he will change, but I know he heard me.”
Her eyes went wide, Kalmar’s words were like a blow. He had went to SPEAK with her father? That was why he had told her to leave?
She grew angry once again, and shouted, ”You went to see him! Without me! How could you? How could you! I trusted you!” she began to cry angry tears as her arms and legs began to smoke.
Kalmar was unphased by her anger. ”I did. I did not bring you, because I did not know how he would have reacted to your presence, yet alone mine. I did not even know you wanted to see him. He cast you out. If he saw you again, it might have hurt you, or killed you. When I spoke to him, I tried to convince him to change. If I had succeeded, it would have been both safer and easier for you to speak with him in the future. Either way, I intended to tell you about it after I rejoined you.” He paused once again, deep in thought, and then added, ”I... apologize for not telling you beforehand.”
Arya shook her head, ”That wasn’t your choice to make! How could you not ask? Why does no one ask me anything! They just assume, and force and think what’s best!” she finished, the smoke from her hands growing more pronounced. She had trusted Kalmar, and she felt betrayed. How could he have not know that was what she wanted most? Had it not been obvious?
Kalmar frowned. ”I never forced anything on you. If you wanted to speak with your father, you only had to ask. Just as, if you did not want my teachings, you could have walked away.”
The smoke from her hands lessened and her eyes seemed to grow softer. ”No… You never forced me, Kalmar. I am sorry, you did not deserve that. But how could you not know?” she asked softly, ”You knew everything else. Everything, but that?”
”I know much, but I do not know everything. I made a mistake.” Kalmar reluctantly confessed. ”Knowing what I know now, I would have brought you. But we can’t change the past.” Yet another pause. ”What are you going to do next?”
“I already tried to ask her that,” said a voice above. The snake stood of his veranda with his hands behind his back. “Architect’s greetings, Kalmar. I would have sent a letter of invitation, but I seemed to have forgotten - I swear, though, I was going to contact you sooner or later. Now, I reckon you have some things to get off your chest, so go on ahead. Do not worry, I will not interrupt.” The snake winked playfully.
When Shengshi began speaking, Kalmar’s expression darkened. He left Arya and flew upward, landing on Shengshi’s balcony right in front of the snake, and stared his rival in the eye. ”You,” he growled, his voice tinged with fury. ”What did I tell you when we last spoke!?”
Arya quickly flew up to join the two Gods, floating directly out in the open with a hand pressed just below her eyes. She had no idea what to say or what to do. She felt powerless.
The snake plucked pensively at his beard. “Hmm… What did you tell me… Oh, no, I recall. You said I could neither threaten, insult or… What was the last one again?” He eyed the sky in thought.
”Now tell me what you said to my avatar,” Kalmar demanded, his voice no less furious.
“Oh, to Arryn, you mean? Yes, I may have been crass in my language and said something resembling, ‘I will send your master another carcass to skin,’ the implication being that I would murder him and send him your way. Was that what you wanted to hear?” He raised an eyebrow.
”And what makes you think I won’t skin you instead?” Kalmar threatened. ”I told you that if you insulted me, threatened me, or deceived me, I would make you answer for it. A slight against my avatar is a slight against me. How do you answer for it!?”
”K-Kalmar…” Arya said meekly as she looked to her mentor.
The snake slammed his right fist into his left palm. “Deceive! That was the word! Thank you for reminding me. Oh! And make certain you are extra thorough when you skin me. I want my skin to make the most divine pair of boots in creation, do you understand?” He snickered and bowed to Kalmar as a gesture of gratitude.
Arya looked back to Shengshi with a horrified expression, ”N-No!” she wailed.
Kalmar knew when he was being mocked. ”How do you answer for it!?” he yelled again, shoving the snake against the railing.
”S-Stop! Stop!” Arya said, flying down and grabbing Kalmar, trying in vain to pull him back by his arm.
The snake’s air was knocked out of his lungs by the blow, prompting a slight grimace. “My, no fun today. Is a confession what you want to hear? Would that change anything? Would words to the wind give you the legitimacy to strike your own brother? I would remind you that the only hand I actually have laid upon your kin was the hand that I lifted them aboard my ship with. If you strike me for speaking, brother, you will have proven my insults right.”
”You know exactly why I strike you,” Kalmar growled, shrugging off Arya’s hands. ”I told you what would happen, and you did it anyway. Unlike you, my words are not wind. You will answer for this, one way or another, and you should be grateful I’m giving you a chance to choose how!”
Arya flew backwards, momentarily disgruntled by Kalmar’s gesture. Quickly, she a flew a few feet away, turning around to face the two again. Her arms began to smoke.
“So humour me for a moment so I may get some clarification: My choices are what, exactly? I confess and you ‘make me answer’, or I do not confess and you ‘make me answer’, hmm?” His eyes blinked over at Arya for a moment. “Anxin, did your hands get dusty?”
”Anxin? Her name is Arya,” Kalmar corrected.
She shook her head, words escaping her for a moment. She felt something deep down inside, growing. And she was so angry at being ignored.
“A name without meaning is a curse - her soul is purer and than the water of a mountain spring and her heart is like a peaceful day in the woods - her name should reflect that!” the snake snapped back, now considerably more furious in tone.
She heard Shengshi’ words, and just like that her anger faltered. He did care, all this time she thought… it didn’t matter because… he did care. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she turned to look back at Kalmar.
”Why are you so petty?” Kalmar demanded. ”I thought any dispute we had was resolved! Then you draw an ugly river across my continent, you insult me, you insult and threaten my avatar, and my pupil. You call my teachings wrong and you change her name purely out of spite. I didn’t even know we had a feud until Arryn came back to me.”
Kalmar shook his head. ”You were the one who started this, not me. I am only here to keep my word. Here are my conditions. You kneel before me and apologize,” Kalmar cared little for such gestures, but he could tell they meant a great deal to the snake. ”You swear to never again raise any threats, attacks, or insults to me, my creations, or my followers. You or your ship will never come within sight of Kalgrun or my sphere without my permission. You will give Arya freedom to leave if she desires. You will let her choose her own name. She will not call you master or act as your servant, unless she wants to. Do you accept?”
The snake raised an eyebrow. “My, I believe someone is a little sensitive to criticism. Say, may I make one teeny amendment - then I swear upon my existence that I will accept any and all other conditions.” He put his left palm over his right fist as to make a gesture of respect. “Just a miniscule little subtraction of a clause which I believe is detrimental to the both of us.” He made a small space between his fingers to illustrate.
”Get on with it,” Kalmar ordered.
“Naturally, dear brother. I merely, humbly request that we remove the clause that prohibits insults, which, if you felt insulted by me commenting on your teachings, includes criticism. If we can remove this clause, I will kneel, nay, prostrate myself before you.”
”You denounced my teachings without even knowing what they were.” Kalmar stared him down. ”That isn’t criticism. Actual criticism is allowed.”
“Anxin, did Kalmar’s teachings involve any of the following: reading, music or art?” he looked to the side, ignoring Kalmar for a spell.
Arya finally understood something important when she listened to Kalmar speak. She realized that neither Shengshi, nor Kalmar would ever see eye to eye on any matter and it broke it heart to see such fighting. Her master had upset Kalmar the likes of which she had never seen before. His demands, were as equally petty as Shengshi had been. But the way Kalmar spoke on her behalf, was not forgotten by Arya. She appreciated it, she did, it was all about her having a choice.
She looked to both gods, torn between the two of them. Shengshi, for all his faults and mistakes, had apologized in his own way. Just like her, he missed someone greatly, but at the same time, his code of conduct prevented him from opening his heart to love. As all things should, regardless of class or station. Master or servant, but she did not blame him for this, it simply who he was.
Kalmar was her first friend, her first mentor and for that she was as equally grateful. He had taken her in when she needed help the most. He taught her how to survive and to live, but at the same time, he never told her about the meeting with her father. Nor had he seen, in all of his wisdom, the one thing she wanted most. For this, Arya did not blame him either. It had been her fault that he had not know.
And she didn’t know what to do.
”Um… No? But I learned other things, like how to defend myself.” she said.
The snake shrugged. “Nice skill to have, though not as important as proper conduct, if you would ask me. See? Now we have a disagreement over the correct teachings. Let us face it, brother - we will never agree on this. You will never see poetry as anything useful, and I will never appreciate a properly made bow. So, if my point has been sufficiently proven, can we make the amendment and proceed with my surrender?”
It hadn’t been proven. But in truth, Kalmar tired of fussing over minor details. That had perhaps been the lightest offense of them all. ”Fine.” he said at last.
The snake grinned. “How stellar - now, let us do it on deck; my veranda is a little cramped.” The snake straightened back up and slithered inside.
Kalmar frowned, and followed. There was space enough. Why did it matter where it happened? Perhaps the snake was trying to salvage some pride by dictating where it took place?
Once they were out on deck, the snake walked up to the dragon’s head and touched it absent-mindedly. “You know, brother - this will be the first time I surrender to anyone. An interesting experience, would you not agree?”
”I did not want this,” Kalmar told him. ”But if I do not keep my word, my word loses all weight. Nobody will trust me, and those that would seek to destroy us would not feel threatened by me. So let’s get on with it.”
The snake opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but seemingly decided against it. He lowered his torso to the ground and placed his palms and forehead on the deck planks.
“My brother Kalmar - under the conditions mentioned in our treaty, with the amendment I requested, I wholeheartedly surrender. Never shall I set foot or ship upon Kalgrun without Your holy permission; never shall I threaten or attack those who share a bond with Your sacred soul; and this humble servant shall naturally allow Anxin, or Arya if she prefers, to walk free with no strings attached. This I, Shengshi, Lord of the Thousand Streams and the River God of Galbar, swear upon my very existence.”
Just then, something about this felt wrong to Kalmar. It was not the terms they had made, no. It was the bowing. This… this was not the same man he had first met on Kalgrun. What had changed? And then he realized something was missing. He frowned, stepped forward, and extended a hand to help the snake up.
The snake did not notice the hand at first; then, upon seeing how close the god’s feet was, looked up to see the gesture. He frowned.
“What are you doing?” he hissed quizzically.
”Helping you up. The dispute is resolved, we are no longer enemies.” Kalmar told him.
The snake’s face twisted into a look akin to the one one would get upon seeing someone letting their dog defecate on one’s yard. He immediately got back to his tail without the hand and waved his hands defiantly.
“N-no! That is not how it is supposed to-...” He pressed a few fingers into his forehead. “Right, my mistake for expecting proper manners. Yes, yes, our dispute is over. Just… Let a god finish his gest of respect.”
”Do what you need to do.”
Shengshi got back down in a kowtow for a few seconds, then rose, bowed three times before finally extending his hand. “Now, we may shake on it,” he said with an abomination of a frown and a smile on his face.
Normally Kalmar would have been annoyed, but now, the snake’s fixation on such gestures was almost amusing. He extended a hand, and shook. ”I apologize as well, for what it’s worth. But there is something I need to ask you. I do not intend to offend you, so forgive me if you find it rude.” He recited the last words clumsily, almost mechanically, yet the fact that he chose to recite them at all meant something.
The snake looked utterly confused. “A-are you well, dear brother?” After the shake, he pulled back his hand as if he had touched manure. “I-I mean… Yes. I apologise for my, uhm… Unsavory behaviour.” He straightened back up.
While the two gods forgave one another, Arya had landed upon the deck. It had been the first time since her feet had touched the ground since her gift had manifested. A little ways way, she watched her master and Kalmar make amends while clasping her hands together. But it was then she felt something upon her finger, and so she looked, looking away from the two brothers.
What she saw was a ring, a dazzlingly ring that seemed to shimmer with stars. How had she missed that? She held the ring up so that the sunlight reflected off of it, and Arya became bewitched by its beauty. It reminded her of… of her father.
Shengshi, seemingly looking for anything other than Kalmar’s creepy demeanor change to look at, let his eyes fall upon Arya. “Anxin, is something the matter? What is that-?”
His words cut off as he smelled the aura. His eyes immediately turned reptilian, and the fins along his back and tail grew slightly pointier. “I am afraid I must answer your question at a later moment in time, dear brother… Anxin, may I have a look at that ring, if you would not mind?”
Arya began to tremble, smoke lifting off her arms and legs like so many times before. Slowly she turned her head to look at Shengshi with a look of betrayal.
”Y-You… lied to me?” she said agitated.
The snake sighed wearily. “If you are referring to me telling you that you developed flight by remaining in divine proximity, then yes - in truth, I, too, spoke with your father without telling you.”
”You… did what?” she said angrily, the black smoke becoming thicker as her hand dropped to her side.
“Your father wished not to wake you; as such, I assumed he wished for you not to know he had dropped by. A parent trying his best to heal broken bonds, I can admire, though I cannot say for certain what artifact he left you. I sense its potential is rather… destructive.”
Kalmar was surprised. He had sense some of Orvus’s aura on Arya, though at the time he just assumed he was misremembering her original aura. Arya’s rage upon finding out he had spoken to her father without her had been enough to dismiss any suspicion that she been near her father since then, and besides, he was too focused on Arya’s own safety and confronting Shengshi to mention it. But he made no comment.
The anger she had felt earlier redoubled with intensity as she spoke, ”I trusted you and you lied to me! You forced me to come on this ship! You hurt Ary! I thought you cared!” she said the words, caught up in the heat of the moment, not realizing what she was actually saying. She then screamed, ”THEN MY FATHER WAS HERE? AND YOU LIED TO ME! Right to my face! How could you? HOW COULD YOU!” And then Arya’s powers manifested, and she exploded with destructive energy, barely enough to scratch a god, but enough to leave a sizable hole in the deck.
When the dust cleared, Arya was but a white spec in the distant sky and Shengshi was on his knees, weeping while hugging a divine plank.
“Oh, no… My precious, precious ship! My dearest servants!” He stroked the splintered deck passionately as tears dripped down on the watery corpses of servants who had been splattered everywhere with too little water to sustain the spirit within.
Mentally, Kalmar cursed. It had gone well. The dispute had been resolved. Then Arya had her outburst. He did not know where Arya had gone, and he considered reaching out telepathically but he doubted she would listen. He was also disappointed - he thought she was more rational than this. Perplexed, he looked down at Shengshi, who was in mourning for the loss of… um… wood?
”When you’re finished grieving, we need to talk.”
The snake sniffed and said in a cracking, sobbing voice, “I-... I think I am going to need a minute.” He let out a loud wail as he caressed the broken-off head of a gold dragon statue.
Why? Kalmar asked himself, looking up at the sky in exasperation. Why is he like this? By all rights he should have left the lizard to cry. That is exactly what he should do. Yet he still needed to speak with him. ”I will be inside when you’re ready.”
The snake let out a sobbing “uh-huh” followed by a long, weeping “waaaaa-ha-ha-haaaa!” As Kalmar entered the palace, the snake had seemingly picked up a broken porcelain vase to mourn.
The two sat down in the banquet hall, Shengshi at the far end of the god’s table and Kalmar in the chair designated for him. It was a fine chair, draped in wolf pelts and upholstered with beaver pelts. Its woodwork was detailed, yet rough - all in all a fine piece of craftsmanship.
Kalmar did not like the chair. It was too soft. The pelts… Shengshi had surely not killed those animals himself. But he kept those feelings hidden.
The snake fixed his weary gaze on the hunter god. “Now… What did you wish to discuss?”
”What holds a hierarchy together?” Kalmar asked him.
The snake raised and eyebrow and snapped his fingers. Some servants who were incredibly dirty and full of pollutants zig-zagged over carrying drinks and food for the two. Shengshi looked torn-up from seeing them like this; however, he nonetheless turned to Kalmar with an earnest expression.
“A hierarchy is composed of a leader and its followers. While the legitimacy of the leader will vary depending on species, culture and about a thousand other factors, the fundamental idea is that a hierarchy is kept stable as long as the leader’s legitimacy remains true. If that legitimacy stems from strength, the hierarchy will hold as long as no one is strong enough to overthrow the leader; if the hierarchy stems from divine right, then one of us decides on who gets to keep this mandate of heaven. That would be the general gist of it. Why would you like to know?”
”I already know. I want to know if you know. All these different legitimacies - at their core, what do they instill in the followers?”
The snake shrugged. “A purpose, in my eyes. What do you think?”
”Loyalty.” Kalmar answered without blinking. ”And loyalty is based on two things: mutual respect, and self-interest. The self-interest is obvious - it is what they gain, and even with legitimization, many will abandon the leader if they stand to gain nothing. For respect… those in the hierarchy must show it to the leader, but the leader must also return it in kind. If you have both of these, then loyalty is unbreakable. If you only have one, then it is shaky. If you have neither, it doesn’t exist.”
The snake raised a suspicious brow. “Have you been sneak-peeking in my book, Kalmar?” he hissed, stabbing a chopstickfull of noodles into his mouth. “Also, may I take what you said at the end and add it to my work? You put it very well.” He winked playfully.
”In the wild, animals form packs. For most, these are what hold the packs together. At their very core, I don’t see how this is different from any other hierarchy.” Kalmar answered. ”I noticed that Xiaoli was missing, and Arya just left as well, so I thought it would be good advice to prevent it from happening again.”
The snake’s smile turned to a scowl. However, after a moment, he recollected himself. “Rubbing salt in the wound so soon, Kalmar? My, you are merciless.” He ate another mouthful of noodles and swallowed. “Your advice is sound, brother. Know that I will take it to heart.” He nodded towards Kalmar’s plate. “Have something to eat, please. With there being a colossal hole in the kitchen ceiling, now, we would not want to waste yesterday’s leftovers, would we?”
Kalmar nodded. What had held him back was his unfamiliarity with the utensils. Yet he been observing Shengshi’s eating techniques, and felt that he now had a decent grasp of how it was done. His grip on the chopsticks was somewhat clumsy, but it was at least somewhat proper, and he managed to get the food into his mouth. ”If I see Xiaoli in my travels, do you want me to say anything to her?”
The snake hesitated for a moment. “Tell her…” He took a deep breath. “Tell her that she is sorely missed, and that her master would like her to come home at her earlier convenience.” He discreetly wiped a tear with his napkin.
”I will.” Kalmar answered, plucking more noodles from the bowl. ”Another thing - does our alliance against Orvus still stand? I spoke to him, and I do not think he will change. It could still come to violence.”
“I swore an oath to Arae that the path of diplomacy should take priority - a stance I am slowly adjusting to, I hope. However, should Orvus not see reason, our agreement still stands. Consider the rivers you allies should battle be our only option,” said the snake, lifting his cup in a toast.
Kalmar paused, unsure of what that meant, but for a lot of these so-called gestures it seemed as though the correct response was to just do the exact same thing the other person did. He raised his own glass.
The snake blinked, then smiled. “Our alliance stands, then, brother. To life.” He raised the cup a little higher before pouring its contents into his mouth in a single gulp.
Kalmar drank as well. The taste was fine, but he felt the liquid burn at his throat and wanted to spit it out. Yet Shengshi had drank the same liquid, and they were both gods, so it surely would not kill either of them. He swallowed it. ”What is this?” he asked.
“Nanhese mango liqueur - one of my finest brews, that one. Was it to your liking?” he snake inquired.
”The taste was fine. But is it supposed to burn at my throat?”
The snake eyed his own glass and then Kalmar’s. “My, if you thought -that- one burned, I would rather not introduce you to anything made with sleeper’s sand. To answer your question, yes, wine does have a tendency to tickle the throat a little. I suspect it must have been an odd sensation to you.”
Kalmar nodded, but his eyes narrowed at the implied challenge. ”I can handle more than this,” he said confidently.
The snake’s eyes lit up. “Is that so?” he mused. He promptly snapped his fingers and some dirty servants came over with a flask. The symbols on it spelled ‘Heavenly Rest’ and the snake uncorked it, filling the immediate area with a permeating stench that appalled all manner of noses. He poured himself a half-full glass and slithered over to Kalmar, pouring him a full glass.
“Here, have a taste. I will only be drinking a half-full glass as I am, uhm, attempting to stop my destructive drinking habits,” the snake admitted sheepishly.
”Destructive?” Kalmar asked in confusion.
“Yes, well, you know how you mentioned loyalty involves self-interest and mutual respect? Let us just say that I, during some of my more embarrassing episodes relating to wine, failed to inspire both.” The snake looked away, partially for effect, though partially in shame.
Kalmar looked around, then picked up the glass, and drank. It was indeed more powerful than the previous beverage, but now he knew what to expect, and so it did little to phase him. He actually rather enjoyed the taste.
The snake lifted his cup. “Well, shall we drink one more before I get to work on fixing my ship?”
”Alright,” Kalmar said with a shrug as he put the empty glass down.
Shengshi downed his own glass and shuddered at the flavour. “Ooo-hoo-hoo, yesss… That is the flavour of divinity! Actually, I wager this wine would likely kill a mortal in uncontrolled doses.” He picked up the bottle and hummed pensively as he inspected it.
Kalmar would have perhaps objected to drinking something so lethal, even if it was only toward mortals, yet already the wine was beginning to take hold and cloud his judgement. Besides, to back down would suggest that he was weaker than a mortal. ”Another, then. And I’ll be on my way.”
The snake chuckled and refilled his and Kalmar’s glasses. “Fine. Another, then.”
After Kalmar had left, Shengshi slithered back up on deck. My, what a mess Anxin had left everything in. It would take him an entirety of three minutes to fix this - valuable time he could have spent writing poetry or playing music to the rhythm of the jungle. At this point, the wine was beginning to take hold, too, and he really could not find the motivation within him to spend all his power to fix the boat. He just wished someone could fix it for him.
A bright idea popped into his head and he snapped his fingers.
In a moment, all the servants aboard the ship had gathered on deck, and they were zooming all over to avoid popping. The snake grinned - he was glad to see so many had survived. The water of Fengshui Fuyou given life - the ultimate servants.
No, not yet ultimate - but soon to be glorious! The snake raised his hands and all the globules stopped in their tracks - however, none of them exploded into the usual spectacle of water and dew. The snake twisted his hands around and the river below began to snake its way up the sides of the ship.
“Servants! Hear your lord speak!” There was silence, but he knew they were listening. “From this moment, you are all promoted - you have served well; you have served with faith; you have served with will. Today, your ungrateful lord shall reward you at last with the forms you deserve.”
The river water crept aboard and began to enter the globules, bloating their forms and colouring them with mud and sand. Their forms twisted and turned, grew and groaned. They first sprouted appendages which slowly grew into arms and legs. Their blobby bodies sprouted heads, torsos, hips. Their forms were coloured with an outer layer of sand and mud to act as skin, and their heads sprouted hair made of black grass and plant detritus. Finally, Shengshi snapped his right finger. Soon, all of them were draped and wrapped in luxurious, yet practical, clothing.
Shengshi took a moment to gaze out across the enormous host of people. Nearly ten thousand individuals, both men and women, stood before him on deck - it being incredibly cramped due to the colossal hole in the centre. The snake felt a slight pain in his chest when he noticed how similar they all were to Xiaoli. The snake was nonetheless determined. He slithered through the masses and mounted the dragon’s head. He felt a delightful knot in his throat as the ten thousand faces stared expectantly back at him.
“Who are you?!” he roared.
“We are the servants of His Lordship Shengshi, master of all rivers!” they answered in unison. The snake felt giddy.
“What is your duty?!”
“To tend to His Lordship’s and His Lordship’s guests’ every need - to the letter!”
“To the letter,” the snake whispered happily to himself. “And do you pledge to serve me, Shengshi, until the end of time, in exchange for my vow to be a lord of good morals to all?!”
The servants all got on their knees and kowtowed before Shengshi.
“Until the end of time, we will serve our lord, Shengshi!”
The snake grinned from ear to ear. “Blessed be all of you, you loyal subjects. My first task is for you to repair the deck. Do so, and I shall personally see to it that the servants’ quarters is refurbished into the most luxurious on Galbar.”
The servants immediately scrambled to fetch divine wood and oil from below deck. The snake snickered.
“Beautiful creatures”, he mused.
Kalmar examines Arryn’s memories, and is both outraged at Shengshi’s behavior, and annoyed at Asceal’s intervention in his affairs. He immediately sets off for a confrontation.
Meanwhile, Arya wakes up to find herself floating, as a result of her power of flight. Eventually she learns to control it, and talks to Shengshi about it. He withholds the truth, instead telling her that is a result of her proximity to divinity. The two get into another dispute about freedom and choice, but just as it is getting resolved, Kalmar interrupts by landing on deck and demanding Shengshi’s presence.
Arya reaches him first. They talk about what happened, with Kalmar wondering if she is there by choice or not. She explains she wants to learn more so she can get back to her father. Kalmar reveals that he spoke to her father while she was gone, and she becomes enraged. He manages to calm her down, then Shengshi appears.
A furious Kalmar flies up to confront him. Some back and forth arguing ensues, with Arya caught in the middle, and at one point Kalmar pushes Shengshi toward the railing. Kalmar demands that Shengshi bow to him and apologize, while also demanding other conditions - mainly, that Shengshi never come within sight of Kalgrun, that he never threaten or attack any of Kalmar’s followers, and also that Arya be granted her freedom.
Shengshi agrees. The two go down to the deck where Shengshi bows and swears the oath. Kalmar immediately regrets asking him to bow, and offers to help him up, which only annoys the snake even further because he was not finished his gesture. After it is done, they shake hands, and Kalmar apologizes as well, taking pains to be courteous and also declaring that they are no longer enemies.
Then Arya notices the ring that Orvus left her, and asks Shengshi about it. Shengshi admits that Orvus visited her while she slept. Once again, she becomes angry that one of her mentors consulted her father without telling her, but this time she blows a hole in Shengshi’s ship and flies away, leaving Shengshi and Kalmar alone.
Shengshi is devastated, but eventually he recovers. He and Kalmar have a surprisingly civil conversation inside. Kalmar tries to give him some advice on leadership, and also offers to give a message to Xiaoli if he happens to meet her in the future. They reconfirm their alliance against Orvus, then toast to it, and Kalmar has two more glasses for good measure before leaving.
Once he is gone, Shengshi upgrades his servants, granting them sentience. He proceeds to have them repair the damages.
Shengshi: 5MP/8FP 4MP to upgrade the water blob servants to sentient water humans like Xiaoli.
1MP/8FP remaining.
Arya: +3 Prestige Starting +1 For Minor Role +1 For Major Role +1 For Jolly Collaboration = +6 Prestige Ending
Kalmar stood upon the southern tip of Kalgrun, the jungle to his back, as he stared out to sea.
His conversation with Orvus had gone... better than expected, he supposed. It hadn't escalated to a fight, but it didn't exactly leave him with any concrete answers either. Kalmar could have sworn that the message had gotten through, that the God of Desolation had realized the God of Hunting was correct. Yet there had been no response. Perhaps, he mused, Orvus knew that he was correct, but did not want to put in the effort of changing or adapting, yet could not admit to such and instead chose to leave and say nothing.
A poor choice. Those who could not adapt would die.
Kalmar turned away from the sea and began walking inland. He would stop thinking about Orvus for now. At some point he had felt a surge of power, and knew he could create once again, so that was what he would occupy himself with for the time being.
In his absence, the continent had been covered with even more forest. That was good. It spared him a great deal of effort. Yet still, something was missing.
The continent needed more animals, he decided. Predators, to be specific. Hunters. Ideas were already beginning to take form, and as he crossed from jungle to oak he knew what his first creation would be.
There were wolves in the forest. Hairy four-legged canines that were fast and possessed an excellent sense of smell. They hunted in packs, using teamwork and precision to take down prey. Kalmar intended to replicate almost exactly that, except it would be even bigger, faster, and stronger.
And so, the creatures he created were almost identical in appearance... only much larger, approximately twice the size of the average wolf. Their fur came either in black or shades of grey. Their bite could shatter bone, they could creep silently through the trees, their strength and speed could rival a bear's, and their senses were unparalleled on this continent.
He would call them direwolves.
One creature, as black as the night sky, pounced on him. Kalmar allowed himself to be pinned to the ground. As the wolf attempted to bite his throat out, he reached up and clamped its jaws shut with his hand. Then, he shifted his weight and threw the wolf off of him, before grabbing one of Gardener-feathered arrows and ramming it into the monster's throat. He held it down as it bled out. Then, he peeled off its pelt and wore it as a cloak.
The western part of his continent was rugged and mountainous. Kalmar stood atop one of these mountains and created another species. It would be a winged creature, that possessed the legs of a lion and the torso of an eagle, and was twice the size of the former. Its wings would be swift, its vision would be keen, and its claws would be sharp. Kalmar watched as one descended upon a small deer, ripping into it with claws and then proceeding to feast. A majestic beast indeed.
The northeasten end of the continent was also mountainous. Yet the species Kalmar created here would not be winged. They would be apelike, anywhere from nine to eleven feet in height, with massive, powerful, bulky arms, and covered with thick shaggy fur that protected them in colder climates. They dwelled in the mountains, lumbering down into the forests to hunt, or throwing themselves off of edges to fall down upon helpless prey. Trolls, he would call them. They were immensely strong and durable, but also reckless, hot-tempered, and aggressive. To compensate for this, they could recover from wounds faster - injuries which would take other creatures days to recover from (if they recovered at all) would, if inflicted upon a troll, be gone within an hour.
The Troll, the Griffin, and the Direwolf. These would be the apex species of his continent. At least until more were introduced. But for now, Kalmar was content.
The satisfaction would not last, for soon Kalmar would spot a familiar-looking falcon fluttering toward him. "Arryn," he remarked, concealing his surprise. Arryn was not supposed to be here, yet he was, and Arya was not with him. That did not bode well. "What happened?"
Wordlessly, the falcon offered up his memories...
Kalmar reflects on his discussion with Orvus, then decides that his continent needs more monsters. He creates three extraordinary-yet-unintelligent species: the Direwolf, the Griffin, and the Troll. After he is finished, Arryn appears, and is about to show him what transpired with Shengshi.
Expenses -1FP (2-1) to create Direwolves - an excessively large and powerful breed of wolves. -1FP (2-1) to create Griffins - a large winged beast with the upper half of an eagle and the lower half of a lion. -1FP (3-2) to create Trolls - powerful apelike creatures with regenerative abilities.
Arryn did not know how long he flew, nor did he know which direction. Only when he came across Dragon’s Foot again did he realize that he had circumvented the world, and he had been heading west. Arya’s betrayal and his own failure still weighed heavily in his heart, and his flying was almost clumsy, as though he was tired, but he merely felt physically burdened by the weight of his depression.
It was ridiculous. Kalmar would not want him to sulk. Kalmar would expect to be told. Or for him to get her back. Or for him to explore the continent without her. Kalmar would expect something. Yet Arryn could not bring himself to take action. And so, as he continued his aimless flight, he realized he had failed twice.
Just then a distant light caught the falcon’s eye. Something was, rather conspicuously, racing towards him. The falcon stopped midflight, his sadness pushed aside and he became filled with alarm. Was he under attack? He set his gaze on the approaching light only to find that it was not the holy wrath of an angry god, but instead the figure of a glowing woman. Kalmar had told her who she was. Asceal.
Saying nothing, he awaited her approach, flapping his wings half-heartedly to remain airborne. The Goddess seemed to notice this and slowed her approach, eventually coming to hover alongside the falcon. Her own scintillating wings beat more slowly than Arryns and she regarded him with a concerned expression.
“Excuse me,” She spoke kindly, “But I notice this is the second time you’ve flown over this ocean. Are you alright?”
Arryn looked into her eyes, and said nothing. A few seconds passed, as the bird considered what to do, and he knew Kalmar would not want him to show weakness. He bobbed his head in a vague approximation of a nod, but his eyes betrayed his inner sadness.
Asceal met his gaze and frowned slightly, “Ah. Well then, I can tell you’re no ordinary bird. Could I ask your name?”
The bird was quiet for a few more seconds, until a telepathic voice spoke. ”Arryn.”
The Goddess perked up and gave the falcon a little smile, “Good to meet you Arryn. Would you mind telling me what you’ve been up to, flying around the world?”
”Failing,” the bird replied in a dejected tone.
A pained expression crossed Asceal’s face. She sighed and glanced behind her, to some point in the far distance, before focusing on Arryn again, “I see. If you’d prefer I go I won’t linger, but I’ve found that its…” She paused and pursed her lips while she looked for the word, “Easier, to talk about these things than keep them to myself. I have an island we could go to, if you’d be willing.”
The bird let out a barely audible sigh. He should have gone back to his master already, yet he could not face him. Instead he would go to Asceal’s island. Perhaps his head would be cleared once he was no longer in flight. He nodded once again.
The Goddess gave the Arryn a sympathetic little smile and gestured for him to follow her. She took off in the direction of Istais, taking care not to outpace the falcon. Neither was a slow creature, though. Before long they had flown above half the world and beneath them was an island that seemed to sparkle.
She landed in a forest clearing and waited for her companion to follow. Arryn perched on the low-hanging branch of a nearby tree and looked down at her, waiting for her to say something, disinterested in their surroundings.
Asceal sat down on the soft grass and looked to him, “So, what happened?”
Arryn sighed. He should not tell her. It was not her business, and it would be wrong for her to hear of it before his master. Yet he felt he had to tell someone, as if speaking of it would somehow relieve part of the burden. ”I failed,” the bird repeated. ”My pride was broken, my master’s honour was insulted, my friend betrayed me, my mission failed…” he paused and took a deep breath, ”...and I don’t even have the nerve to tell my master about it.”
“You know,” Asceal ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes, “I’ve found that pride is a fragile thing. If it being broken is failure, then I’ve failed many times already. As for honour and betrayal? Well, I won’t pretend I’m an expert on either subject Arryn.” She laid down and looked into the sky, at Heliopolis, “But I don’t think it’s failure, to be afraid.”
”It is a failure to be unable to overcome fear,” Arryn told her. ”I am my master’s eyes and ears. My purpose is to tell him what I have seen and heard. If I do not do that… I am failing to do the only thing he has ever asked of me.”
“And you’ll never tell him?” She asked, “Or are you just taking the time you need to understand what it is you saw? Purpose is a funny thing Arryn. It’s easy to forget that you’re more than what you’re meant to do.”
Arryn heard her words, but he did not seem to truly grasp them. ”I was told to watch over her, to learn of the world alongside her, and yet she is gone.” He sighed once more. ”I will have to tell him, and there is no question of what I saw.”
The Goddess ran her hands through the grass, “It sounds to me like you did watch over her, whoever she is. Right up until she didn’t want you to. Don’t fault yourself for the actions of others Arryn.” Asceal looked over to the bird and spoke seriously, “All you can do is respond to their choices with your own.”
”You’re right,” Arryn said, after another prolonged pause. Then, over the course of his next words, his tone would gradually rise from melancholy to anger. ”It’s her fault. She left me to join the snake. The snake who forced us aboard his ship, who insulted us, who threatened my life, who insulted my master!” Then the rage was gone, and his next words were hollow. ”...then she sent me away.”
Asceal’s eyes widened as Arryn spoke. She shot up and stared at him in disbelief, “Shengshi threatened you?”
Arryn nodded, then decided he would tell the story from the beginning. He hated talking, but strangely enough, the words came easily this time. ”My friend’s name was Arya. I found her lost and abandoned. I brought her to my master, Kalmar, who took her in and taught her of the world. One day he sent us to explore the continent in southeast. When we arrived, Shengshi forced us on board his ship and began to interrogate her. When he found out who my master was, he told Arya that my master’s teachings were wrong, without even knowing what she had been taught.”
The anger was beginning to return. ”I told him to hold his tongue. He called my master a barbarian and accused me of spying. I told him he had no right to speak that way of my master. He then said…” there was a pause, and for a moment the falcon became so angry that he shook, yet immediately after his tone once again became hollow and empty. ”...he said that he would rather die and have his soul shattered before he considered my master anything above scum. Then he said he would kill me and send my body back to my master if I did not leave. I was ready to attack him… then Arya turned on me, said she would rather learn from Shengshi, and sent me away…”
The Goddess was silent as Arryn spoke, her expression gradually shifting from one of confusion to anger. Eventually she pursed her lips and shut her eyes, the only sign of her inner turmoil the great clumps of grass she’d torn from the ground when the falcon finished his tale. Carefully, deliberately, she set the mutilated grass back into the holes shed torn it from. She breathed deeply, once, twice, three times before she spoke again, “I see. I wouldn’t be so hard on your friend Arryn, she may have saved your life. Had she not done what she had, you would have fought the river lord, wouldn’t you?”
”I would!” Arryn replied without hesitation. ”I told her to run. She could have jumped over the edge, and into the water. The lizard would have been too busy with me to stop her. Then I would have clawed his eyes out and made my own escape. Instead, she is in his clutches, which means I have failed.”
“No,” Asceal spoke firmly, her eyes boring into Arryn, “You would have died. Perhaps you’d have hurt Shegnshi, but you wouldn’t have escaped. I’ve stood at the center of an explosion which would have scoured the surface of this world, and it took a thought to heal my injuries Arryn. A thought. You aren’t a match for a god, and you should be deeply grateful your friend understood that.”
Arryn was silent. Perhaps she was right. Then again, Kalmar had repeatedly told him that cunning and surprise could outmatch raw power under the right circumstances. Yet nothing would be gained from arguing the point further. ”What should I do now, then?” he asked her.
“Nothing,” She sighed and pulled at her hair, “I’m going to ask you to do nothing Arryn. I know it pains you to not tell Kalmar, and I won’t stop you if you feel you must, but I will deal with this myself if you’ll allow me. Before anyone needs to die.”
”All he did to anger Shengshi was tell the snake not to insult him ever again, and also interrupt the lizard once during a conversation.” Arryn pointed out. ”He will not listen to words. In nature, only force is respected.” He paused, thinking further.
”I have to tell Kalmar,” Arryn finally decided. ”If I go back to him he will ask me, and I will not lie to him. If I don’t go back, he will seek me out and ask me anyway.” There was yet another pause.
”My master once told Shengshi that if the lizard ever insulted him again, then the lizard would be made to answer for it. My master is not petty enough to kill anyone over this, but he once told me that he never makes threats he does not mean to carry out. So Shengshi must answer for it in some way. If you… if you can make Shengshi offer some sort of concession to Kalmar by the time he arrives, that might appease him. I will… I will delay my return, to give you time.” The bird suggested, though the mere act of even suggesting it seemed to make him feel guilty.
Asceal nodded and unfolded her own wings. She mouthed, “Thank you.” And vanished with a golden flash and a blast of wind.
Arryn remained for several minutes, still conflicted over his decision. Yet it was too late to change it. He said he would delay his return. And just as Kalmar told him he must always carry out his threats, he had also been told he must carry out any promises. Asceal was gone. He must be gone as well. He took flight on a course of his own, taking care to avoid flying over Kalgrun or Atokhekwoi, and he hoped that it would all work out.
In a state of depression, Arryn begins looping around the continent. Asceal notices this and questions him. Noticing his troubled state, she takes him back to her island, and eventually she gets him to tell her the full story.
She sympathizes with him, but assures him that Arya had not betrayed him like he originally believed. She is also worried that Shengshi’s words may escalate into a greater conflict, so she asks Arryn to refrain from telling Kalmar what happened until she can sort it out. The best Arryn can do is delay his report, and tell her that Shengshi needs to make some sort of concession if violence is avoided.
Though the great eye of the storm had been calm, it was a completely different story once she neared the edge. Underneath the black clouds and scarlet lightning, it was a completely different world. The wind howled, the waves were far taller than her, and to be perfectly honest, she was petrified. It was the only way out, but to where? All she could see was the storm and it’s anger. Was there anything on the other side?
”Okay.” she said aloud, finding some small comfort in her own voice, ”I have to do this. Father wouldn’t have sent me here just to float forever. Would he?” she finished softly. But there was doubt in her voice, for what better way to get rid of something that shouldn’t have existed to begin with?
She let out a angry growl, ”No! No No No! I can’t let that drag me down. Not now. Come on, you can do this! Yeah!” But still she hesitated, uncertain if she was truly willingly to leave the calm waters for the unpredictable. She sighed, there was no other choice.
So she kicked her feet backwards, and paddled her hands forward, taking the swim into dangerous waters.
Instantly she was taken by a strong current, and plunged under the water as a wave collided on top of her. In the murky blackness she flailed about, losing her sense of direction until the lightning flashed. She fought against the waves, fought against the very water and kicked her legs. Up up up she went! Breaking the surface of the water and welcomed by the howl of the wind. It seemed to laugh at her, mocking in tone but she pressed forwards. She wouldn’t let the storm win!
Over and over she fought the waves as they collided against her body. It was beginning to take a toll upon her, but a flash of lightning illuminated a great wave to the side of her, and in it she saw the silhouette of something massive, and briefly, she saw a mesmerizing light. It was beautiful, and she wanted to go towards it, but quickly as it came it vanished underneath the waves, leaving her to only fill sheer terror at whatever she had seen. It renewed her vigor, and she pressed on again.
Her squinted with happiness but the smile quickly faded to one of horror as a wave that seemed to touch the very storm grew before her. The wind began to howl even further, laughing it’s horrible mocking laugh. Thinking quickly, she dove down as best she could to try an escape it, and as the wave crashed against her, she could see a light on the horizon before everything went black.
Arryn soared across Galbar’s vast blue oceans, unused to being so distant from his master. Yet that had been the master’s wish. After Kalmar had returned from his conversation with Parvus, he had sent Arryn to explore Galbar, and to bring back a report of his findings.
Then the falcon noticed a strange object floating in the water, a tiny white speck on a vast sea of blue. Arryn came to a stop, flapping its wings as it hovered in place, and then it began to descend. He realized he was not looking at an object after all, but another creature. Was it dead? No, as he closed in he sensed that it was alive. It needed aid, then?
Unsure of what to do, Arryn decided he would need his master’s opinion. Although the bird was much smaller than her, he was the avatar of a god, and thus had strength well beyond his size. His talons gripped her wrists, he lifted her into the air, and then he began the flight back to Kalgrun.
Meanwhile, Kalmar was at work. He had returned to the parrot that Arryn had devoured. The feathers and bones still remained, so he decided he would get some use out of them. Using a sharp rock, he was filing a bone fragment into an arrowhead, and he had already pocketed a fistful of the feathers to serve as fletchings. This went on for some time, and he made quite a few of the things, only to pause when he sensed his avatar’s presence nearby. Back so soon?
Arryn swooped down and unceremoniously dropped the woman at Kalmar’s feet, before perching himself on a nearby tree to observe. For a moment, Kalmar was surprised. Then, he looked at her curiously. ”Who are you?” he asked, continuing to sharpen the bone.
She woke up after seemingly falling on something hard. Weakly, her hand reached out and touched the dirt. Instantly she relaxed as the solid foundation provided her with stability. Something she hadn’t realized was so needed. Before she could even begin to wonder how she ended up where she was, a new voice took her by surprise and all at once her eyes snapped open. There was an extremely bright light, so bright she had to squint, but as her eyes adjusted, a person came into view. She didn’t really know what to think of the being in front of her.
”Oh.” she said aloud, ”Hello.”
Whatever it was, it looked really weird.
Kalmar stared back at her. He stopped sharpening the fragment, and instead slid it into a pocket. He was sizing her up, assessing the threat that she posed, and there was no warmth in his eyes, but he seemed to be remembering something. Then, he brought his empty hand back up, extended a finger… and poked her in the shoulder. ”Hello,” he said with a stern expression. ”Who created you?”
She saw something familiar in those eyes of his. Cold, painfully so, and it made her think of her father, and her own eyes grew sad. When he raised his hand and extended his finger towards her, she tensed up, but when nothing came of it besides a strange, warm poke, she became confused. What had that been?
”Umm,” she began softly, ”My father?” Who else would have created her?
”And what is your father’s name?” Kalmar asked, but he already knew, for while he was sizing her up he had gone through her memories and saw the image of his enemy. The only questions were: did she know, and would she lie?
She looked away from the man, and whispered to herself, ”A name…?” and said nothing for a moment as she thought. A name, that was what you called someone! Though she had called him father, she had never known that there would be another name to call him by. That was what the man wanted to know.
But then suddenly it dawned upon her, her father had only ever called her daughter. He hadn’t given her a name, before… before she was sent away.
When she looked back at the man, a small black tear fell down her face.
”I-I don’t know. H-He never told me.” came her sad voice.
Kalmar shrugged, and then frowned. He looked deeper into her memories, briefly wondering why he had not thought to use such a trick on Hermes. He saw that this stranger had not been given her own name either, and he also saw Orvus’s rejection. Why did Orvus create her only to cast her aside?
”Your father’s name is Orvus,” he told her. ”My name is Kalmar. The creature that brought you here is Arryn. As for your name…” he shrugged again, and then appeared to be deep in thought as he internally threw together random combinations of syllables and sounds, ”I will call you…” he frowned, not yet able to think of anything. ”What do you think you should be called?”
She perked up when the man began to speak names. So her father was Orvus, such a sad name, she thought. He was Kalmar, but what was Kalmar? And Arryn, that was who brought her here? She would have to thank this creature Arryn.
Her excitement to hear what she would be called grew as she waited for Kalmar to say it, but when he frowned, so too did her eyes. Instead, he asked her what she should be called, and to that, she had not a clue. She didn’t know names.
She sighed softly, ”I don’t know any names, well besides three thanks to you. Kalmar. I like that name.” she said aloud, happily.
”I will call you Arya, then.” Kalmar finally decided, not acknowledging the compliment. ”Though you may change it if you wish. A name is just a name.”
Her eyes went wide when he spoke that name. Her name. Arya. It was wonderful, and she couldn’t help but laugh joyfully, forgetting about everything that had happened to her. She had a name!
Slowly she sat up, and hugged Kalmar, squeezing him as tightly as she could manage. ”Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you! Arya, I love it! It’s perfect, Kalmar!” she squealed with delight and did not let go.
Kalmar looked at her in bewilderment, and then pushed her away - not violently, but firmly enough to let her know that he did not like the sudden physical contact. ”You’re… welcome?” he said, confused at her reaction, and there was an awkward silence for a while, until finally he spoke again. ”Did Orvus teach you nothing of the world?” he asked, in an attempt to change the subject.
Kalmar’s push did little to upset Arya’s mood, in fact she barely even registered it. She was much too caught up in her own happiness, but his sudden question brought her back to reality. She looked at him with a quizzical look.
”The world? What’s that!” she asked excitedly.
Kalmar almost wanted to groan. First Hermes, and now ‘Arya.’ Why did the other gods insist on creating offspring that they did not deem fit to train or educate? It was lazy, it was almost incompetent. ”The world is called Galbar,” he told her. ”It is everything you see around you. The ground, the air, the sea, the sky… this land you are on now, which I named Kalgrun, is only one small piece of it.” He paused, thinking about his next words, before deciding to press on. ”Your father would like to see it all destroyed.”
She soaked in his words like a plant would sunlight, and from this knowledge she began to understand. Galbar, what an equally wonderful name. And Kalgrun! What a beautiful, stable, land. Much unlike the sea. She cocked her head as Kalmar continued, suddenly aware of how serious his tone was.
Why did her father wish to destroy Galbar? That seemed… That seemed wrong, but perhaps he had a good reason too? She had to find out more.
”I know what that means.” she whispered, ”No more Galbar. But why Kalmar? Why would my father want to do that?”
”Your father is irrational, and dangerous,” Kalmar told her, paying close attention to her thoughts. He believed it was important for her to understand that there was no good reason for such vast destruction. ”He tries to kill what he has no reason to kill, and he rejects what he is supposed to protect. Most do not share his desires. He is not an example to follow,” he explained to her.
It broke her heart to hear what Kalmar said, and some of it made sense to her. For she had seen him in person, she had seen him act that way. It was complicated. Her father was complicated and she wanted nothing more then help him, to be loved by him, but what Kalmar said was… truthful. How could it not be?
She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, ”What did I do wrong, Kalmar? Why do I exist if he doesn’t want me?” she asked.
Kalmar’s serious expression broke once again and betrayed another emotion - sympathy. Just as it was unnatural for most parent to endanger its offspring, it was also unnatural for the offspring to contemplate turning against the parent. ”I do not know why he created you,” Kalmar admitted, and there was a short pause before he spoke again, his voice hardening with conviction and inspiration.
”But I know why you exist - for the same reason that everything else does. You exist to continue existing. To survive, to overcome, to improve yourself. To exist is to struggle and suffer, but it is also to succeed and prevail. If you continue to exist you win, and if you stop existing then you lose. Your father would have all of us lose.”
Arya noted how Kalmar’s voice trickled with emotion and for her. It was the most she had seen of Kalmar that didn’t remind her of Orvus’ impassive look, and it made her happy. Kalmar’s words further brightened Arya’s perception and lessened the turmoil within her heart. She felt emboldened with this information, and for the first time, she felt alive. And she would win, to show her father that she wasn’t a mistake. So that maybe, one day, he would love her.
Arya nodded, but a new question came to mind. ”All of us? Are there...are there others?” she asked softly.
Kalmar nodded. ”There are.” And then he told her what he could. He told her of the Architect, of the gods, of the mortals, and the differences between them. He told her of the gods he had met thus far - Li’Kalla, Phystene, Aelius, Asceal, Ashalla, Parvus, even Shengshi and his avatar. Then he told her of Hermes, the first mortal. He even mentioned a few of the animals he had encountered. ”And there will be more,” he promised. ”This world is still young and empty. It has yet to be filled.”
Like a child hearing their first story, Arya fully engorged every part of her being in listening, and learning. And all the while fantastical thoughts filled her head as she learned of each god, of the animals and the first mortal, Hermes. And she wondered if she would ever meet any of them and oh, and oh it was so amazing. There was so much, so so much with even more to come.
She sighed happily when he finished, ”They all sound so... So interesting, Kalmar. I-I don’t even know where to begin. But I can’t wait.” she finished enthusiastically.
”You begin by learning how to survive,” Kalmar told her. ”This world has much to experience, but there is also much danger. I can teach you how to overcome it, and how to avoid it when you can’t.”
And Arya’s eyes expressed a profound joy as Kalmar offered to teach her. Without waiting, she hugged him again and spoke giddily, ”Oh please! Please teach me!” And like before, she did not let go.
Kalmar hesitated for a moment, and then reluctantly hugged her back.
Orvus’ daughter contemplated braving the turbulent waters of the Maelstrom outside of the calm waters in the eye. She has no choice but to go, and so she does, letting the waves take her in every which direction.
After seeing a Leviathan Angler, she presses on with renewed vigor but only comes face to face with a wave that seemingly reached the storm. It was that BIG. She tries to dive down, but only manages to get so far before the waves crashes into her, and as she enters unconsciousness, she sees a light on the distant horizon.
Arryn picks up the Orvus child and flies her straight back to Kalgrun, then literally drops her in front of Kalmar.
They have a long, talk about everything. WIth many ups and downs, but the one up that outweighs them all, is that she finally gets a name.
Arya.
After Kalmar tells her about the world and its inhabitants, she has no idea where to start, but teacher Kalmar offers to show her the ropes, and she agrees to learn everything she can.
Member
Lord Zee
Frettzo
Eviledd1984
King of Rats
Vec
Noctis
