1. Home
  2. Kalmar

Kalmar male Member

The Mediocre

Avatar of Kalmar

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Karamir



"Mana is everywhere," Karamir told the eight Vallamir who stood before him, Valys and Lena among them. It was these six who had the natural power to use mana, and so it was these six he would teach. "Every element, every living thing... they all have their own type. When you manipulate an element, like fire or water, it is the specific type of mana within the element that you are controlling. Then there is raw mana... it can be converted into any other form of mana, but that requires more effort, and it can be dangerous. It would be wise to avoid wielding it until mastery over the safer types has been achieved," he lectured.

He then coached them through the process of harnessing mana. Find the object they intend to manipulate, and have them focus on the mana inside of it until they can move it with nothing more than their mind. As a mortal, it had taken Karamir much time and dedication before he could do anything noteworthy. He found, however, that with a simple touch, he could will that their own progress advance faster.

He had no intention of making them masters overnight, no. He had practiced for years just to reach his own level of adeptness, and if he instantly brought them to that level they would take it for granted, or misuse it - either accidentally or deliberately.

Valys had decided to focus on the manipulation of plants, while Lena focused on the ground itself. Others focused on air, as Karamir himself had started with, or water. Due to his minor blessings, they had already made ample progress. He left them to their practice, and walked the village grounds.

The mood was still sombre. The Cataclysm was still fresh on their memory, and they had only heard of Kalmar's death yesterday. Some believed another tragedy would befall them soon, and Karamir wanted to promise them it wouldn't... but he could not make such a guarantee. And now, he could hear whispers. Prayers. Those he had met and taught now turned their faith toward him instead. Some were for common problems, or small requests. May my Hunt be bountiful. Grant me the strength to overcome this fever. May my next child be a boy. Others were more grim. My brother is dying. I haven't eaten in days. All were beyond his ability to immediately solve.

Karamir wished he could help, but where were they? And who did he answer first? He realized it would only get worse as his name continued to spread. There were thousands upon thousands of Vallamir, Kalmar had told him. And that wasn't even getting to the Jotnar, or the followers Kalmar had elsewhere. Once Karamir made his name known to them...

Already, divinity felt like a tremendous weight on his shoulders, threatening to crush him and grind him into the ground. As it stood, he had no choice but to harden his heart and continue doing his work where he was. But as that decision was made, he felt as if a piece of him had slipped away.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. No wonder father was always so grim...


He had decided to unlock the potential for mana in nearly a dozen other Vallamir who seemed worthy enough. This had been one of his father's creations, and so he wanted to ensure they had the means to protect it even when he was not around. And to protect each other, too. Perhaps if more people knew this ability, the prayers would diminish.

However...

His hand fell to the scar in his side. The Vallamir he had met thus far were hospitable enough, but he knew that the other species had their moments of treachery and cruelty. Realistically, how could he expect his own species to be immune to such impulses?

"Everything alright?"

Karamir turned and was unsurprised to see that it was Karlyn who spoke. No other Vallamir would have so casually approached him and asked what was on his mind. Karamir merely shrugged in response. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Always good to think about things, isn't it?" Karlyn asked with a smirk, to which Karamir only nodded. "We're in grim times, aren't we?" Karlyn continued, the smirk vanishing. "The sky nearly fell... our god is dead... and who knows what else awaits us? I've been paying attention to the mood around here. Look at them," he gestured to the Vallamir around the camp. "they're frightened. Scared."

"I noticed." Karamir said, not following his hands.

"But," Karlyn continued. "I think that will pass with time. They're frightened and scared, yes, but they're relieved too. You're here, and you're taking the time to talk to them, and you're showing them a power they never even knew existed. That gives them hope. When their grief is gone, that hope will remain, I think."

"You think?" Karamir asked.

"I know," Karlyn corrected. "Faith is what holds us together. We were called here for a common purpose. We believed Kalmar favoured us, that he watched over us. To be honest," he looked around to ensure nobody was eavesdropping. "I don't truly know how much Kalmar did for us beyond giving us this place, or how closely he was watching us. It doesn't matter. Whatever it was, he did enough. It was this common purpose, this faith, this belief, that binded us together... more closely than Valys or I ever could."

"But with Kalmar dead," Karlyn continued. "That faith is broken. Or at least, it would have been if you hadn't stepped up. Like your father, you gave us something to believe in, and a goal to work toward. The rest is on us."

"What do you mean?" Karamir asked.

"I'm saying you've given us all we need. Thank you for that. Now there are others throughout Kalgrun who could use your aid." He shrugged. "I'm not saying you have to leave. I don't think even Valys has the right to send you away. It's just a suggestion. With your leave?" He did a half-turn, about to walk away.

Karamir nodded, and Karlyn departed.

Of course, he was going to leave at some point. He didn't need Karlyn to tell him that. What he was waiting for was the moment in which they were ready for him to leave... which Karlyn had just assured them they were.

Perhaps it was time to leave.

A distant screech was heard, followed by the distant cracking and splintering of trees. Vallamir throughout the camp froze in sudden shock and terror. "Spears and Slings!" Myla shouted, spurring them to action. "To me!"

Okay... perhaps it was not...

A colossal black griffin was the first to appear, flying over the wall and landing upon the temple roof. The Vallamir who had grabbed weapons and assembled around Myla froze. They lowered their weapons, evidently realizing there was little they could do against such a creature... but why did they appear relieved? The griffin fixated its gaze on Karamir. Karamir drew his weapon, and summoned raw mana to his hand, forming a fireball.

The splintering and crashing of timber came closer, and then two figures appeared above the wall. The first was a massive troll, nearly ten times the wall in height. The second was a huge wolf, its head resting on the wall itself. He had seen it before. It was familiar. But... it was missing an eye.

Then he recalled one of his telepathic conversations with Kalmar, from long ago, and he realized what - no, who - he was facing.

"Fenris," he said, eyes wide. "Gorm... Shynir..." The latter two he never met, but he knew by description.


Karamir had led them away from the Temple. Though their presence was familiar enough to the inhabitants that they did not view them as threats, it was still offputting nonetheless. Once they were far enough away, Karamir, floating above the trees, turned to them.

"Why... why are you here?" he asked, unsure if they could understand him.

"Father... dead..." Gorm spoke, somehow managing to convey grief through his deep, rough, animalistic voice. Fenris reared his head back and let out a mournful howl.

Shynir's head drooped in sadness. "Felt it..." she squawked.

In that moment Karamir felt pity. Kalmar had not mentioned what should be done with them. He supposed they were meant to answer to him now, but is that what they deserved? If he, Roog, and Makab could be considered Kalmar's children, were these three beasts not Kalmar's children too? Two of them were older than he was, and like him they had been Kalmar's creations alone.

When he thought about it, they were the closest thing he had to family. And in that moment, he realized family was something he desperately wanted.

"We can't speak like this," he suddenly said, an idea springing into his head. "You have been walking this land. Protecting it. Watching its people. But you've never been able to speak to them, to walk among them, to know how they live, have you?"

The three beasts shook their heads, confused at the sudden change in topic.

"Do you want that to change?" he asked next.

The beasts exchanged glances. And then, reluctantly, they nodded.

Karamir took a deep breath, unsure if what he was about to attempt would work. He looked to Fenris, and imagined the wolf in the form of a Vallamir. He did not imagine any specific features for this Vallamir; instead deciding that Fenris should have the right to choose that himself. Instead he simply poured power into the wolf.

Then Fenris began to change. Slowly, inch by inch, foot by foot, shrinking down into his new form. Karamir blinked. It was incredible. All he had to do was imagine... and his imagination could become reality.

The transformation had not been swift. It took a few minutes, at least. But when it was done, Fenris stood before him in the form of the Vallamir. Interestingly enough, the dark wolf had chosen pale skin, white hair, and grey eyes - not unlike that of Valys. He was six-and-a-half feet in height, and well-built. He glanced down at his new form, staring at his hands, and then up at Karamir.

"This is... strange..." Fenris said, testing out his voice - it was somewhat gruff, closely resembling Kalmar's.

"Try to change back," Karamir suggested.

Fenris did change back. The process took just as long, but when it was complete he was back in his full form without a single error or mishap. Karamir sighed with relief. While Fenris changed back to his Vallamir form once again, Karamir turned to Shynir and Gorm, and did the same.

But this time, changing Gorm had left him winded. Still, he pressed on, and went to change Shynir as well. He succeeded, but he found himself gasping, and when he lowered himself to the ground he fell to his knees. All three beasts looked at him in concern, but there was little they could do to help as they still shrank and shifted. Even gods had limits to their powers. Kalmar had told him that. And he wasn't even a god. He needed to be more careful...

After a few moments he had his breathing back under control, and after a little while longer he was able to rise back to his feet. He watched his three siblings go through the final stages of their transformation, and noted which forms they took.

There was, of course, Fenris with his white hair. Then there was Gorm, standing at seven feet in height, bald with bronze skin, a short black beard, and golden eyes. Lastly there was Shynir, who had taken the form of a voluptuous black-haired and golden-eyed Vallamir woman, six feet in height. Her lips curled into a smirk as she took in her own form.

Then a massive smile crossed Gorm's face. Her expresssion shifted to surprise and then fear as he wrapped his arms around her, hoisted her into the air, and squeezed. Her arms were pinned, but she could not fight back. A rather disturbing crack was heard which made Shynir hiss in pain and Karamir wince. Then Gorm set her down. "This is wonderful!" He laughed, as Shynir dropped to her knees.

Karamir rushed to her side to make sure she was alright. Meanwhile, Gorm moved on to Fenris. "No, no," the man-wolf protested as he backed away. Not as used to two legs as his bipedal brother, he tripped over the stump of a tree he had previously knocked over. "Stand down!" Even then he tried to scooch away, but Gorm wrapped his arms around him and lifted him off the ground. Another crack.

"Gorm, that's enough!" Karamir protested, and Gorm obediently let Fenris go.

"Little brother!" Gorm said with a wide smile, turning to him. "Thank you for this! We now speak as equals! Don't worry. Plenty of hugs to go around!" Then the man-troll stepped toward him, outstretching his arms once again.

"Not one step further!" Karamir shouted, the sudden forcefulness of his voice stopping Gorm in his tracks. Then, Karamir reached down to help Shynir to her feet. A smirk crossed her face as she took his hand, then wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in close for a hug of her own - this one much gentler. And Karamir suddenly felt uncomfortable.

He pulled away, much to Shynir's disappointment. "You all need clothes," he told them, matter-of-factly.




In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Karamir



Smoke ahead.

Not the smoke of a raging forest fire, but that of a contained cooking fire.

At last.

The young demigod ran forward, deftly weaving through brush, under branches, and over roots; his divinely enhanced reflexes preventing him from taking a scratch.

He burst out from the bushes, into a small clearing. There, seven Vallamir stood, spears and slings at the ready, while children huddled behind them. Karamir came to a sudden stop, and looked at them in awe. An entire species. His people. Made in his image. They, too, were surprised. Not just at his sudden appearance, but at his strange equipment. The cloak, the dagger, the knife, the blackened bow... they had never seen such things before. And his height - he easily towered over them all.

The tallest of their number, a broad-shouldered blue-haired man almost as tall as Karamir, stepped forward. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Karamir could only stare back. He had waited for this moment for a long time. Now it had come, and he was speechless. What to say? That he was the first of their kind? Would they believe him? Would they care? And then... the news. His heart sank. He had to tell them that their god, his father, was dead. Would they believe that? And if they did, how would they react?

"Speak, boy!" the man insisted.

"I'm... I'm Karamir," he finally said. "Son of Kalmar, First of the Vallamir."

Eyebrows rose, one Vallamir gasped, and half of them clenched their fists across their chest in respect, but their leader seemed unmoved. "How do we know that's true?"

That gave Karamir pause. He supposed there were multiple ways in which he could prove such a claim, but... which approach should he take? Perhaps... perhaps an appeal to reason would be best. "I'm clearly different from any other Vallamir," Karamir said. "I'm taller, and I have items that are beyond your means to craft. Where did I get these, if not from Kalmar or from other lands?" he shrugged as he asked the question. "I... I've been gone from this land a long time, and now I'm back."

The man ruminated on these words for a moment, and then gave the same clenched fist salute as the rest. "Alright... I believe it..." he decided, and everyone seemed to relax. "But why have you come back now, of all times? Only two days ago, the world had almost ended."

Karamir gulped, and then realized he had to say it. There was no sense hiding the truth - it would come out eventually. Best get them to accept it now. "Kalmar... my father... is dead," he said softly.

Eyes widened once again. Mouths gaped. Weapons were dropped. Gasps rang out.

"What?" the blue-haired man uttered in shock.

"No... no, that can't be..." another whispered disbelievingly.

"H-how?" a third stammered.

Karamir took a deep breath. "The meteors fell from Veradax, sphere of the God Orvus," Karamir revealed. "It had been taken over by a creature named Abraxas, and it was trying to destroy the world. Kalmar, along with Arae, and another Goddess named Ashalla, went up there to stop it. He succeeded... but his wounds were too severe. Before he died, he gave everything he could to me," he said quietly.

They took the news in silence; the only sound being the crackling of the fire. Some had tears in their eyes. Others looked to the sky, or to the ground. A black-haired woman clenched her fists in anger. "No..." she whispered. "I don't believe it."

"I'm sorry," Karamir said sincerely, "But it's true."

"Who... who will protect us?" A small, frightened voice asked. It was a child, who had pushed her way to the front. There were tears in her eyes. "If... If Kalmor is dead..." The expressions of even the adult Vallamir made it clear she was not alone in her concerns. And Karamir knew it was time to commit to a decision.

"I will," Karamir declared, causing focus to return to him.

"You?" The man asked skeptically.

"He left everything he could to me," Karamir said. "That includes this land, as well as his divinity. I... I have a duty to protect this place, and the power to do so," his expression hardened. "I can make no guarantees, but I will do everything I can."

He stayed with them. He told them of his travels. Of Chopstick Eyes and Abanoc. Of Arya, the Lady of the Eye, and he felt a feeling of wistfulness as he spoke. Of Kalmar's last moments, during which he had to fight back tears. The wounds were still fresh, yet he could not make himself vulnerable. Not now. They listened to everything he said intently. None smiled, still shaken as they were by the news of their god's death.

"There is one more thing," he then said, as he summoned the familiar golden energy to his hand, condensing it into a visible fist-sized ball stare in wonder at. Then he told them of mana. Of its purpose. Of its types. Of its difficulty to master.

"But we can master it?" The blue-haired man asked.

"Not all of you," Karamir conceded. "But some."

"Who, then?" A blue-haired woman asked.

Who, indeed? How could Karamir tell. How could anyone tell? Then, he noticed something. Small spores of golden raw mana seemed to radiate around the woman who had spoke. They did not do so for the others.

"You," he said, based entirely on a hunch. Her eyebrows shot up. "Come here."

She stood and came closer to him. He stood as well, and looked her in the eye. The fist-sized ball began to disperse, until what remained was no larger than a finger tip. "Hold out your hand," he commanded. She did, and he gently placed the ball in it. "Focus on it," he ordered. "Think of creating something. A small flame. Pour your emotion into it."

She stared at it in squinted. For a moment it seemed like nothing would happen. Then she grit her teeth, and suddenly the tiny ball exploded in a small bright spark. She jumped in surprise, and Karamir breathed a sigh of relief. "You can wield mana," he confirmed, smiling for the first time in days.


He had stayed with them for the rest of the day, teaching the woman, whose name was Janys, how to use her new gift. Then when night came, he had moved on, having no need to sleep. The days passed as he wandered the Hunter's Eye on foot, encountering scattered groups and tribes. Many of them were shaken up by recent events, and they were even more shaken when he revealed the news of Kalmar's death. He sympathized with them, then shared his stories, and the knowledge of mana. If he saw someone capable of wielding it, he would teach them.

Yet some groups did not have those who were capable at all. This made him wonder. If he truly was the God of Mana...

So he decided to experiment. Tentatively, he pressed a finger against one's forehead, and as they asked what he was doing, he thought of what he was trying to accomplish, and willed it to happen. They blinked in astonishment, cutting themselves off as they suddenly caught a glimpse of the golden mana all around them. Another blessing, and they were able to manipulate it.

He did the same when he encountered other bands that had no natural mana-casters. However, he did not give it to everyone. Although he would have liked for everyone to have this gift, he wasn't entirely sure what the implications would be. Remembering full well the cruelty that mortals were capable of, he couldn't risk some like Laurien getting their hands on this power.

His travels continued. Until, one day, he hit a wall.


It was an actual wall.

It was no obstacle to him specifically, thanks to his cloak or his divinity, but in this land which had more or less felt completely wild it was out-of-place. Not that it was an unwelcome sight. The smoke of cookfires in the sky beyond it demonstrated that it was inhabited. Civilization.

He effortlessly flew over it and landed in a vast enclosure.

Before him was a rather large and impressive stone building. Surrounding it were rather less impressive ramshackle wooden shelters. What he truly cared about, however, were the people who stood and walked between it all. They wore skins and furs. Some laughed and shouted, while others whispered. Child ran back and forth across the field, while parents prepared food, made clothes, or built new shelters.

He began walking forward. As he neared, the Vallamir began to take notice of him, and an uncertain silence fell over the settlement. Karamir himself suddenly felt nervous. He had yet to meet a group of this size.

Yet it had to be done, and he could not falter. He kept walking, and maintained a stoic expression. He felt dozens of eyes on him as he neared the camp. They were looking at his equipment. His clothes were normal enough, but his cloak? The dagger, and the knife? The bow that had been turned black? As with the others, nobody here had ever seen such items.

A blonde woman stepped forward, flanked by two guards, and all three of them held stone spears. Karamir suddenly found himself thinking of the fight at Laurienna, and nearly drew his own weapon, but then the woman spoke.

"Who are you?" she asked, looking him up and down. "Why are you here?"

He met her gaze and swallowed, clearing his throat. "I am Karamir. Son of Kalmar, First of the Vallamir," he said. "Take me to your leader."

Several pairs of eyes widened, and there were a few gasps. "My name is Myla," the blonde-haired woman said. "Our leader is named Valys. We will take you to her."

Karamir nodded, and followed. A black-haired man and a brown-haired woman appeared, falling into step alongside them as they made their way up the steps to the central stone building. They entered a vast, empty room. At the far end was a strange totem, depicting a one-eyed bird, and a dozen Vallamir knelt before it in prayer.

They proceeded forward, their steps echoing, causing one of the Vallamir - a beautiful white-haired woman - to turn and look upon them. Her prayers ceased, and she rose to her feet. "What is it?" she asked Myla.

"Karamir has returned," Myla told her, causing the rest of the kneeling Vallamir to turn their heads and cease their prayers as well.

The woman looked at him with wide eyes. "I... we were told that one day you would return," she said, blinking rapidly, as if she couldn't quite believe it. "My name is Valys. You were the First, I was the Second," she revealed, and then suddenly asked, "Do you have news of Kalmar? I have been praying for days, and received no answer..."

Straight to it, then. Karamir looked her in the eye, and took note of her hopeful expression. It was a shame those hopes had to be dashed against the stone floor they stood upon, yet he he had unfortunately already grown used to breaking such grim news. "Kalmar is dead," he told her.

The usual reactions ensued. Gasps, tears, objections, shocked silence. "What do you mean... dead?" Valys asked.

So, Karamir told her the story. By the end of it there were tears in her eyes. Myla stared at the floor. The black-haired man clenched his fist. The brown-haired woman was so overwhelmed by the news she had to sit down.

"I... I can't believe this..." Valys whispered.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to believe it either, but it's true," Karamir said gravely.

"B-but... we're Kalmar's handpicked followers..." Valys whispered. "He chose us to maintain this place. This is his holy ground. If he's dead... what are we supposed to do?"

"What were you doing before?" Karamir asked, after a moment's thought.

"Hunting... building... guarding... surviving... praying..." Valys whispered.

"You can keep doing that," Karamir assured her. [color=yellow]"If this place was important to him, that's all the more reason to protect it - to make sure he and his sacrifice will be remembered. He... he wouldn't want us to give up."

Valys nodded, and wiped away tears. "We'll... we'll need to tell the others. They won't take it well."


So, they did. They gathered up all of the Chosen, save for those who were out hunting or foraging, and Karamir delivered the tragic news. They had at first been overjoyed to see the first of their kind in person, but the news he brought quickly turned them to despair and sadness. Their creator, the one who had taught them, favoured them, walked alongside them for the better part of a decade, and gifted them with this place... was dead. Some wailed, some shouted. Denial, anger, sadness, acceptance... not everyone took it the same.

Karamir did what he could to reassure him. Kalmar had elevated him to a god. He would watch over them now. For some, this worked. For others... Karamir was the first of their kind, but they did not know him. He stayed with them afterward, speaking to small groups and individuals to reassure them. Hope was not lost, he had assured him. They had survived the Cataclysm. He and Roog would ensure that they survived whatever came next.

Most of them took it numbly. It was not just their survival they were concerned about. They had all seen something in Kalmar. A god. A creator. a leader. A teacher. A mentor. A friend. A father. That was gone, and it would not be easily replaced. So, Karamir shared in their grief. They traded stories, and recalled Kalmar's teachings.

By the end of the day, only a few had gotten over Kalmar's demise, but most had come to accept Kalmar's decision to entrust their fate to Karamir. A handful had rejected him, denying that he was a god or that he had any right to lead them - the others turned on that handful, and it was Karamir himself who had to prevent it from escalating to violence. The small group then left into the woods. A few more then followed, not out of anger or rejection of Karamir, but out of a general sense of despair and sorrow - they could not remain at the holy site of a dead god.

As the sun fell low on the horizon, Karamir spoke with Valys, and a man whose name he learned to be Karlyn. They, too, had spent the day doing what they could to reassure the Vallamir. Now the three of them spoke alone. They each told the stories of their own creation. How Karamir had been trained for nine days - though for once he did not tell the tale with bitterness or regret. How Valys had been the first to appear on the Eye, before the four Creator Gods, and how Kalmar had wrapped a cloak around her - which she still wore today. How Karlyn had found himself alone and confused in a swamp, and came to discover and lead other similarly confused members of his kind until Kalmar found him.

They told Karamir of Kalmar's actions in the years that followed, as well as what little they knew of the three other Creator Gods. They told him what they knew of the mainland tribes, which was very little, as they did not leave the Hunter's Eye. Karamir listened to all they told him, certain that it would be useful.

Though it was no longer a necessity, Karamir allowed himself to sleep that night. He was in a safe place.

Tomorrow, he would teach them mana.






In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Kalmar's Chosen




"Chosen! Quick! Into the Temple!"

"No! What if it collapses? It will kill us all!"

"We should scatter into the woods!"

"Are you mad? Think of the children!"

The Chosen were in panic. While some stood yelling and arguing about the correct choice of action, others ran back and forth across the temple grounds, looking for friends, family members, or possessions. Some did indeed run into the temple. Others had already made their decision to abandon the place entirely, fleeing into the woods. All the while, desolation in its purest form rained from the sky. Somehow they had invoked the wrath of a mad god, and it was determined to doom them all.

Valys knew she had to take control of the situation, lest the group would break and fracture. "Chosen!" She shouted again, causing most to stop and look to her. The rest slowed their movements when they realized what the others were doing, and listened.

"Kalmar entrusted us to guard this place. We will not abandon it. The Temple will protect us, as we protect it, so everyone get inside. Quickly now!" She commanded.

At least half of the Vallamir complied immediately, filing into the large stone structures. Others stood and gaped with uncertainly, with a few gradually snapping out of it and moving to obey as well.

"Come now," Karlyn's voice rang out as he stepped beside Valys. "You think Kalmar didn't know something like this might happen? You think His Holy Site can't withstand a few falling rocks?" He shook his head in disapproval at the Vallamir who had not obeyed Valys's command. "I don't know about you, but I think our Creator is both smarter and stronger than that!" he declared confidently. His words had shamed some, and reassured others; now, all were moving to obey. Karlyn nodded to Valys, and the two followed the group inside.


Time passed. Day gave way to night. The Chosen were all in the Temple - those who hadn't abandoned it, anyway. Most sat on the cold stone floor, huddling with husbands, wives, friends, and children, as they whispered amongst each other. A lucky few had somehow already managed to fall asleep. Karlyn leaned against a wall, eyes closed, lips moving in silent prayer. Valys walked from group to group, asking about their mood and offering reassurances.

At some point Ewen returned with his team of hunters, carrying one of their own who had fallen victim to some unknown affliction which discoloured her skin. There was nothing the healer could do; none knew of any treatment that might save her. His husband stood by her, clutching her hand. Lena was nearby, assuring them both that she would be alright. Myla watched the door. Every now and then, someone new would arrive - they weren't part of the Chosen, but Valys ordered her not to turn anyone away.

Every now and then they would hear the crash of a fallen meteor; some of them alarmingly close. There was nothing anyone could do but hope that the meteors wouldn't hit, or that the temple would endure if one did.

Never before had any of them felt so helpless or uncertain. It was as if the world was ending.

Eventually, new arrivals stopped appearing, and most had succumbed to the Call of the Palace. Not Valys. She remained awake. She needed to be ready, in case anything changed. Karlyn and Lena had fallen asleep now, which they could not be faulted for - everyone, even Valys herself would need to sleep eventually - but Ewen and Myla were awake and vigilant.

The hours continued to slip by. And at some point, the wrath of the heavens seemed to relent. The crashes seemed to be less violent, more violent, and with greater periods of time between them. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. But it wasn't. Because at some point, the crashes had stopped entirely. And when Valys emerged blinking to the rising sun, she realized it was true: the meteors had stopped. The Cataclym was over. They were safe.

Thank Kalmar.




In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Karamir

&
Roog



Kalgrun was not as he remembered it.

As Karamir flew overhead, he saw that much of the continent had been ravaged. Huge craters dotted the land, marking the sites where meteors had struck. Entire swaths of forest had been burned by fire, or withered away by unknown force. He could only hope that the Vallamir had been spared the worst of it.

It was more destruction than he had ever seen in his life, yet he felt numb. He had lost a father, he had ascended to godhood, he had been given new responsibility. All in the span of one conversation. It was almost too much to process. He could feel the raw power coarse through his veins. He could see the streams of raw mana flowing freely in the air. Even flying as high as he was, he could make out the shapes of surviving animals scurrying about. His potential was nearly limitless.

It was not worth the cost.

He would have given it all up to have Kalmar back. Yet Kalmar had chosen to die, and as usual there was no talking the old hunter down. Kalmar was gone. The Hunting Grounds, Kalgrun, and all the responsibilities those entailed had been left to him. If he wanted it. But did he want it? Was he ready?

Kalmar had asked Arya what kind of god she wanted to be.

Kalmar had not thought to ask that question to Karamir.

Now he had returned to a land he had not seen in decades. To see his people, whom he had never met. To deliver news they did not want to hear. He recognized most of the life and animals below him well enough, but they still felt foreign. He had been gone for too long. Part of him wanted to go back to the Eye of Desolation. To help Arya drive out those creatures. To settle into his new status as a demigod with someone who was also new to it. Maybe even...

He shook the thought off. It was Arya who had suggested he take Kalmar back to Kalgrun, and he knew that was what Kalmar would have wanted. There would be time for that after...

After he had seen to Kalmar's body. After he had established authority over Kalgrun. After he had met his brother Roog. After he had claimed the Hunting Grounds. After he had grown used to his new abilities. After, after, after... would there be time for anything at all?

Was this why his father was so grim? Was this why he had been ready to retire from the world?

He continued his flight, deeply troubled.



Hours later, he came upon the Central Plains, where he had been told his people could be found. Even here, meteors and craters dotted the land, yet it was not as bad as it was further south, and he could make out various camps and villages atop hills or alongside rivers.

Eventually the plains gave way to swamp, which in turn gave way to water, and soon he was at the Hunter's Eye. He circled around to the eastern edge of the island, until he spotted a familiar section of coast, and it was there that he landed. It was a place that he knew well.

It was where he was made.

Wearily, he gently laid Kalmar's body down on the sand, and went to sit on a nearby rock.

He imagined a scene before him. A younger, confused version of himself, sparring with a younger, more confident version of his creator. He recalled snippets of his first conversation.

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!?

Why. The question he had spent his entire life seeking an answer to, and he felt no closer to finding it.

The world has dangers. 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.

Kalmar hadn't been wrong. He had suffered. But he had endured, and in doing so, he had learned. But still... was there a better way?

But what else is there!?

That is for you to find out.

He had found out. That there was suffering far worse than what Kalmar had inflicted on him. Diana's cruelty, Laurien's betrayal, Vrog's abominations. But there was joy as well. The power and freedom he had felt when he flew for the first time. The clarity and thrill he felt when Abanoc taught him. The comfort and happiness he felt from being near Arya. And there was still more for him to experience, but he would do so as a divine, rather than a mortal.

Another tear began to roll down his cheek, but he wiped it away. He had to be strong. He rose to his feet, and walked into the forest to gather leaves, branches, bark, and other kindling.

Arya had asked him to bury Kalmar, yet after some thought he realized that was not what Kalmar would have wanted. Animals would only dig up the corpse anyway, so it would need to be encased in some sort of structure, but that would be a waste of time, materials, and space. And even if the body could somehow be prevented from rotting... was this how he wanted to remember his father? Caked in blood, an eye, a hand, and half of his teeth missing? Clothes torn and ragged, a gaping hole through the chest?

No.

He emerged from the woods with armloads of supplies, and began to build a pyre.


The Pyre was complete. Kalmar's body laid atop it peacefully, bow placed over his chest. All that was needed now was to light the wood.

He held out a hand, and mana swirled around it. Then he conjured it into fire. Not a flickering spark, but a fist-sized ball which illuminated the night. What would have taken him months of training now came naturally. It was almost too easy.

He looked down at his creator one last time. "I'll never forget you..." he whispered softly, as he lowered the flame to the wood, and it immediately began to catch. He stepped away as it began to spread, and watched it burn in silence.

He was immediately disheartened by the fact that, while Kalmar's clothes and the wood he rested on were flammable enough, the flesh was not. Kalmar remained unburnt, even as fabric was scorched away and the wood turned black, then white. Karamir clenched his fist and cursed himself for a fool. The God of Cold, even while dead and stripped of most of his power, would not be burned by ordinary fire. He should have known better.

There was a gentle shake of brush and foliage behind Karamir and the pyre he had built for his creator. Out from the woods, padding forward on all fours, was the jet black form of Roog, son of Kalmar. The Wolf God’s eyes blazed in the light but there was hardly any fire to be seen. Several scratches and wounds were yet visible on his form, glowing and moonlit. Whether the Wolf had been watching for minutes or hours, Karamir could not know, but now Roog had revealed himself.

”A good end.”

Karamir turned to the newcomer, and realized he could sense the divine energy which emanated from its body. It took him only a moment to figure out who it was. “Roog?” he ventured.

”Correct,” responded the wolf as he strode closer, his gaze locked on that of Karamir’s. There was a slight limp in his stride and his shoulders were held low. ”You are Karamir. Our creator spoke of you, once. It is right, what you do.”

”Is it?” Karamir asked, turning toward the pyre. ”He is unburnt.”

Roog’s gaze wavered from Karamir’s, bronze eyes turning as well to the pyre of the First-Vallamir’s making. The hint of frost scarpered from the flames but, nevertheless, the man-god’s skin would not set alight. Unsurprising. Roog walked to the edge of the pyre, looking down upon Kalmar’s corpse; one dead father, as many mortals had seen and would see in their lives. A hallowed day, considered Roog, but one most bitter-sweet.

”He fought to the end, and lived a life worth living; your path was the right one. Now I will send him the rest of the way.”

Roog thought inwards, to that ever blazing furnace that was his divine heart, and in an instant his body set alight in spectacular black flames. The divine light of his celestial creator blazed on the cthonic hide of man-god one, the conflagration biting and snapping at the air. Gentle sparks from Roog’s hide jumped through the air before settling to nest upon the pyre, the pile of wood and brush catching light and slowly spreading the flame to Kalmar’s form. Roog watched as those black fires consumed his man-father’s form, flesh devoured slowly and hidden from view by the rising blaze.

”May you find a welcomed end in your next life, Father.”

Karamir watched their creator and father burn in silence, until the black fire had obscured the corpse completely. ”He died… content,” Karamir said, after a moment’s thought.

Roog looked to Karamir after a long moment of staring into the fires, eyes studying Karamir intently. At last he spoke, quietly but just loud enough to carry over the crackling of the flame.

”That, I expect, would be the only way he’d allow himself to die. I envy him for his freedom but loathe to see tomorrow with one less good First-Born to safeguard the days to come.”

Karamir nodded, continuing to stare into the flames. ”He wanted me to take his place.”

Roog’s eyes turned to slits as he gave Karamir a twice over; though he had heard of the man, the entity that would be the model for the Vallamir, he did not himself know him. Nevertheless, Kalmar’s will couldn’t be challenged nor did Roog wish to; he trusted his creator had chosen well. If his deeds today alone were something to go by, he was at least wise if nothing else.

”An acceptable alternative; I trust you will act with wisdom as you did today. I hope we may always be as brothers in this life, for the sake of all living things.”

Karamir nodded, looking past the flames and out across the water. It was strange, to not only meet one of his brothers in the flesh but to have that connection acknowledged. ”There is still a lot I need to do,” he said. ”I need to claim the Hunting Grounds. I need to inform the Vallamir and the Jotnar of our creator’s death. I need to assess what state they are in. Find out who their leaders are, what they know…” he sighed, before turning back to Roog. ”What about you? What will you do, now that our father is dead?”

”I will act on an ambition I believe our Father would have supported; through this I shall honor him and do right by the world.”

”What ambition is that?”

”I seek the Red Haired Woman that came to me in my dreams,” responded Roog, seemingly thinking inward to remember the vision he had been gifted with during his first death, [color=slategray]”From her I believe I will receive the answers I seek.”

Karamir furrowed a brow. ”Who is this woman?”

”I am not certain. I had intended to seek Kalmar’s wisdom on the matter; I believe her name may be Seihdhara, though, of this I cannot be sure.”

”Seihdhara…” Karamir said the strange-yet-familiar sounding name. ”Kalmar told me of all the gods upon my creation. I think she was one of them… I also don’t know if they ever met. Do you know where she is?”

”One of the First-Born? I should not be surprised . . . No, I have no clue where I might start my journey; I trust not on Kalgrun, however. If she did reside here, it would be reasonable to assume I would have found her already. She must reside elsewhere but now the answers will elude me even further.”

Karamir stroked his chin thoughtfully. ”The most straightforward approach would be to pray to her,” he said. ”Or try to find her sphere.”

Roog seemed to grind his teeth in thought before responding to Karamir, turning over the man’s words in contemplation. ”I do not believe my prayers will be heard. But findings her sphere would not require her. Surely there must be other First-Born with the knowledge of its location?”

”I’m sure there are,” Karamir nodded. ”Abanoc is the God of Recording. He sees everything that happens on Galbar. I’m sure he knows, but… he doesn’t like interfering in Galbar’s events. It might be worth asking him, though. Then there’s Arae - she’s the Goddess of Family, and considers the other gods to be siblings, so I’d be surprised if she couldn’t tell you something.”

”Mother-Goddess may be the first step; I know her and I imagine she will be amenable to my questions. Perhaps prayers to these gods may provide the answers I seek.”

Karamir nodded, and then rubbed the back of his head as his expression turned reluctant. ”I should also tell you about a place called the Infinite Maze.”

”Why?” Roog’s eyebrows rose with interest, watching Karamir’s expression intently.

”It’s the sphere of Eurysthenes, the God of Puzzles,” Karamir answered. ”And it connects to a number of other spheres as well. It’s how I first found Abanoc - I was walking, and then suddenly I was at his Observatory. If you need to find Seihdhara’s sphere, or meet new gods… it might be worth a try. Only problem is, it’s unpredictable. Arryn entered only minutes after I did, at the same place, but we never found each other. And while it only took me ten days to get out, it took Arryn months. There’s no telling how long it will take you. I wouldn’t recommend it, but it is an option.”

Roog considered this new information with apprehension; it was utterly against his nature to allow himself to be caged in such a manner. Nevertheless, to have the option available would be beneficial. Ideally he would find answers elsewhere but if all other options failed this would be his next step.

”Thank you, brother, your assistance is most appreciated. If ever you are in need, we are bound to such purposes together. It is as our father would have wanted.

Karamir nodded in agreement. ”If and when you leave, I have some requests.”

Roog’s ears turned to Karamir and his eyebrows visibly raised; requests were not something he expected.

”Requests?”

Karamir nodded, and found that he could not meet Roog’s gaze, as the unpleasant memories came rushing back. ”If you ever meet a woman named Laurien,” he said quietly. ”Be careful around her. Tell me exactly where she is, and do not trust her.”

”A simple request,” replied the Wolf, eyes flashing with curiosity, ”One I will gladly do for my brother. If I encounter her, I shall do as you wish.

”Thank you,” Karamir nodded yet again. ”For my second request… there is another woman named Arya. She recently became a demi-god, just like me. She is Orvus’s daughter, and Laurien’s sister, but she is not like either of them. She saved my life. If you somehow meet her, and she needs help, and you can spare it… will you do it?”

Roog seemed to contemplate the question more deeply then, the idea of helping someone he did not know and could not judge the morality of. Nevertheless, consideration had to be taken regarding whom made the request. ”If she is as you say, then I shall keep to your request; that is all I can swear to.

Karamir nodded. ”Thank you again,” he said, and then looked up at one of the flowing golden streams of power, that only he could see. ”There is something else I need to tell you.” He held a hand, and golden mana swirled above his palm, forming into a ball that then became visible. ”This is mana. Not many know of it, but it’s a source of power that gods and certain mortals can tap into. It lets them do… extraordinary things.”

”Mana?” Roog leaned in, eyes flaring from the golden light as his senses absorbed every detail of the cascading corona of energy, ”And what allowed you to claim this source of power?”

”I don’t know,” Karamir admitted. ”Abanoc told me of its existence, and I was able to use it. Then when our father gave me his divinity… I had a vision, of a strange type of dragon, and then somehow I became able to see it. I think… I’m now the God of Mana, if there wasn’t one already.”

”An interesting prize, to be sure; I have little doubt you shall use it rightly. May you hold to Kalmar’s principles, brother.

”You as well,” Karamir said. ”Good luck.”

”May the next time we meet be under brighter circumstances.”

With that Roog turned and loped back into the forest, his mind occupied with thoughts of distant places and a woman of red hair. What he had learned today would keep with him and, by all observations, Roog had gained a brother and ally for the loss of a father and creator.

Karamir watched him go, and then went back to watching the flames in silence.


Eventually, the fire burned itself out. When the smoke cleared, nothing remained but a pile of ash, and Kalmar’s Bow. Karamir retrieved it from the pyre’s remains, and brushed it off. He had thought it would be fitting if his father’s favoured weapon burned as well, yet found himself relieved that it was not. But it seemed different, somehow. More powerful. He would have to investigate that later.

With one hand he scooped up a fistful of ashes. He was a god, he could create, he reminded himself. He closed his eyes and a pouch formed around the small handful, with a string which he then put around his neck.

In some form, his father would always be with him.

He looked down at the rest of the ashes, piled on the beach, and called upon the mana in the air around him. The wind began to swirl, lifting them high into the air, and then scattering them so that they gently rained down upon the island and the water.

It was done. Kalgrun was Kalmar’s Ground, and so it was a fitting place for his body to be put to rest.

Karamir turned and walked back into the woods. There was more to be done.





In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Let me know if any characterisation of Laurienna or Nebulites seems off, I'm mostly up to date in the form of summaries and skim at the moment.


You didn't get stabbed. 2/10 accuracy.
In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Goodbyes



They had flown back to the house without speaking, and not too long after they had stepped through the front door, Karamir’s energy was already beginning to flag. The shock of Arya’s ‘transformation’ had temporarily jolted him out of it, but he was tired. The sun was beginning to rise, and he had not slept since… since he had woken up from his nightmare. There had been no time. Arya had been asleep, and someone needed to watch the house.

To think… for all the powers and blessings they had each been granted, none of it would be of any use should an enemy happen to stumble across them while they were sleeping.

He rubbed the dark circles under his eyes, yawned, and then looked to Arya.

She smiled at him and said, "You’re tired, go sleep, I'll be okay." she moved some hair away from her face.

”Are you sure?” he asked her wearily. ”We still don’t know what happened to you, Vrog’s creatures could still be out there, and…”

"Go to sleep." she said sternly. "Nothing will happen while you dream."

Karamir looked as if he was about to disagree, but he was too tired, so he nodded his head reluctantly, and made his way upstairs. Wake me up… if anything happens. There had been a second bedroom in the house, one with an excessively large bed, but it was not full of blood. So it would have to make do.


“We’re here,” Arae said to Orvus as they landed. They had arrived at the Eye of Desolation, in front of the house Arya was in. “Let us greet Arya and get Kalmar inside, shall we?” Arae also noticed the familial bond of another inside, this one tied rather strongly to Kalmar himself, and there was only one person she could think of. Arae wondered what Karamir was doing with Arya, thinking it interesting that he be with the sister of the one who wounded him so.

Orvus nodded, thankful for the journey's end. He grabbed hold of Kalmar, whose layer of ice was now gone. He tried to get ahold of the God, but he himself was still weakened and his strength depleted. "Arae, I nee-" but he was interrupted by the door slamming open and Arya's wide eyed face staring them down.

"Father! Arae! And… Oh no…" she said, a hand covering her mouth as she looked at Kalmar's body. Without hesitation the girl flew over to them and asked, "Do you need help?"

“Please,” Arae answered, shifting to her human form and helping Orvus with Kalmar. “You may be the only one who can.”

Orvus then morphed into his human form, his clothes tattered and grey. The man looked tired and haggard, but he gave Arya a weak smile nonetheless. "Arya… It's good to see you. But yes, we need to get Kalmar inside… He… Isn't well."

Arya nodded at both of them, blinking back tears as she cradled Kalmar in her arms, then floated down to the ground. Orvus slowly followed, landing behind them on his feet before falling to his hands and knees. Arae began to help Orvus at least get into a sitting position, then turned her attention to Arya. “Do you know of any way to treat Kalmar? We’re at a loss on what to do.” Arae asked.

Arya began to speak but stopped when the Hunter grunted, and his eyes fluttered open. He began to speak. ”Ar… Arya…” he rasped, his sole remaining eye settling on the glowing girl. Then, he squinted. ”Are my senses… failing me? How did you become… a god?” he asked weakly.

"I don't know… It all happened so fast, there was an orb and then I was hot and then I was fine." she said quickly. "What happened to you? To the both of you?" she said looking between Kalmar and Orvus.

“Orvus’ Avatar, Abraxas, did this,” Arae answered grimly. “Kalmar fought him, and was injured to this state. As for Orvus… he gave up his divinity to allow us to defeat Abraxas. Orvus is... mortal now.”

Arya froze in her tracks upon the porch. She turned fully to Arae, mouth agape, then looked at Orvus who nodded solemnly. ”W-What? That’s not… That’s… It’s true?” she said, tilting her head.

In that moment, with a groan of pain, Kalmar freed himself from Arya’s grip and stood on shaky feet. He swayed, and nearly toppled, but managed to remain standing as he gripped the porch’s railing. ”Where… is Karamir?” he asked.

Arya went to his side, supporting him with an arm wrapped around his torso. ”He’s inside, sleeping.” she said.

”Bring him.”

Arae grabbed hold of Kalmar while Arya went off to fetch Karamir. But Kalmar simply waved her off and slumped into a sitting position against the porch’s railing.



Inside the quickly flew up the stairs, and opened the door to Laurien’s old room. It was mostly plain, except for the figure sleeping in the bed. She didn’t want to wake him up, but the circumstances were dire.

She walked over to the side and gently shook Karamir. ”Karamir. You need to wake up!”

”What? What is it?” Karamir asked groggily.

”It’s Kalmar… He’s back.”

With a relieved look on his face, Karamir launched himself to his feet, and his cloak flew to his shoulders. ”Let’s go, then,” he said, running past Arya and out the room.

”Karamir!” she called after him.

Karamir ran down the stairs and exited the house, only to freeze at the sight that awaited him on the porch. His gaze first went to the missing hand, then to the hole in the chest, and then to the missing eye. ”No,” he said in disbelief, falling to his knees next to his creator. ”No, no…”

Arya came out right behind him, and fell beside Karamir, holding him by the shoulders as she knelt.

Kalmar stared up at Karamir. ”Your soul… it’s…”

At first, Karamir did not seem to hear him. Then he blinked in surprise. ”Yes… Abanoc saw what happened to me, and decided to fix it.”

The Hunter offered a weak smile. ”Good. That simplifies things.” He looked at the small group gathered around him. ”Orvus… why did you give up your godhood?” he asked.

The man sat down on the porch he had built with his two hands, and sighed as he looked at them. ”Ashalla and Abraxas could have kept fighting for years before either side won, and I could not bear another sibling to be hurt by my power. It was the only way to ensure I can never again be used for evil.” he said somberly.

”And Arya became a demigod around the same time…” Kalmar observed. ”Can’t be a coincidence.”

”A demigod?” Orvus asked, looking at Arya. ”I… I had no idea. I swear it. I would have asked you if… if…” his voice faded. Arya looked back at her father and knew his word to be genuine. He cared deeply for her and his other children, but how had he not known?

”You’ll both have to dwell on that later…” Kalmar said. ”I need to speak to each of you alone…”

“I will take my leave then,” Arae said, setting Kalmar down gently and bowing, then walking outside to wait.

Orvus began to get up but Arya stopped him, ”You two should talk first, I’m sure my father is anxious to see the others.” she said, lifting Karamir up going towards the front door. Karamir moved his mouth in protest, but no words came out. He offered little resistance, almost too shocked to function.

Once they were gone, Kalmar looked to Orvus. ”Do you remember what I told you?” he asked.

”The bit about you killing me?” he said with a wry smile.

”The alternative to me killing you,” Kalmar grimaced, more in pain than at Orvus’s attempt at humour.

”I remember.” Orvus said softly.

”I assume you found it?”

”Yes, I don’t think we’d be having this discussion if I didn’t.” Orvus said thoughtfully.

”What was it?”

”To not be so alone.” he said.

Kalmar was silent, as if he had expected something else. ”I wonder how many others are driven by that,” he finally said, after a moment’s thought. ”What will you do, now that you’re no longer a god?”

”I once had a dream… Of simple life… I’ll do that now.” he said, looking past Kalmar.

”Well… for what it’s worth, I wish you luck in it. Some of the other gods might not believe you, or forgive you, but… I suppose I can.”

”You’re probably right… But oh well.” Orvus said, getting up. ”I… I’m sorry for everything, Kalmar. I never want you to… to end like this.” he said, his voice full of sorrow.

”I doubt you threw yourself onto that tree,” Kalmar said rather drily. ”Then again… you did make the tools that Abraxas used. But… no changing that now. You helped stop him, and you sacrificed your godhood to do so. If something like this happens again… it won’t be because of you.” the Hunter breathed deeply. ”Arae is next.”

Orvus paused at the porch steps, and looked back at Kalmar. He gave him a simple nod before descending. A little later, Arae appeared. “You wanted to see me, Kalmar?” Arae asked.

Kalmar nodded. ”I did. I have a request.”


Karamir paced back and forth restlessly. In a few days, it was as if his entire world was shaken up. His soul was decayed, then fixed. Arya was a demi-god. Kalmar was horribly wounded. That last detail was the most alarming. And it seemed there was nothing he could do but wait. He felt more powerless than ever.

”Karamir.” Came Arya’s voice.

He stopped, clenched his fists, and then unclenched them. ”What is it?” he asked, not looking at her.

”Take a deep breath.” Came Arya’s soft voice.

Inhale. Exhale. He turned to look at Arya, who sat on a chair, legs crossed, a worried expression on her face. ”I just… I never thought that… well, he told me, but…” he took another breath. ”Do you think he will be alright?”

”I… I honestly don’t know. Gods can take punishment but…” her voice faded for a moment. ”I wish I could do something.” she said, getting up.

”What I told you… about him beating me for nine days… when I said that, I didn’t have all my memories. It wasn’t entirely true.” he said regretfully.

”I was… I was hoping as much.” she said, crossing the room to look at a wall of artifacts.

Karamir nodded slowly, tears coming to his eyes. ”He did hurt me, yes. But he also taught me how to hunt, how to fish, how to forage… how to survive. And while he did send me away, he gave me everything I needed - clothes, weapons, blessings. I could have prayed to him at any time, and he would have answered, but I didn’t. I hated him, and I was too stubborn. It… it took me far too long to realize I judged him too harshly.”

She turned her head to look at him, then graciously flew to him in a blink. Arya then embraced him in a very warm, comforting embrace. ”Shh. It’s okay, he knows. I was just like that when I was young. It happens, there’s no sense in dwelling on it.” she said, her voice kind and knowing.

Something about the way she spoke, or the way she touched him, warmed him and made him relax. He returned her embrace. The tears stopped, and he continued speaking in a calmer voice. ”In the end, it was he who sought me out. I didn’t pray. I didn’t swallow my pride. He had to find me. He apologized, he gave me more gifts, he gave me permission to call him father, but… he is my father. And I shouldn’t have needed gifts to realize that.” Arya said nothing, but simply stroked the back of his head.

Timed passed, and he did not know how long they held that embrace. ”How do you feel about this?” he eventually asked.

”I’m sad…” she said. ”And angry and and… I feel like I need to do something.” she said.

”What can we do?”

”Bring him comfort and listen.”

Karamir only nodded in response.

Arae opened the door to where the two of them were, looking worse for wear. As she fought to hold back her tears, she said to them, “Kalmar would like to… to see the both of you.”

Arae’s reaction dashed much of his hopes, but Karamir nodded. He looked to Arya, and then made his way toward the door. Arya followed.

Kalmar had not moved from his seated position against the porch’s railing. He looked up at Arya and Karamir as they exited the house and knelt beside him. ”I am dying,” he said.

Karamir shifted his gaze downward and closed his eyes, attempting to restrain tears. Arya put a hand on Karamir's shoulder, white tears beginning to flood from her own eyes as well.

”You’ve come a long way,” Kalmar said. ”Both of you. I’m sorry I was absent for most of it.”

"It's okay. We wouldn't be here without you." Arya said tearfully. Karamir nodded.

”Arya…” Kalmar said, shifting his gaze from Karamir to her. ”You’ve obtained godhood... somehow. What do you intend to do with it?”

"I...I think what I've always wanted to do… Help others." she said wishfully.

Kalmar nodded approvingly. ”That’s good. Just… be mindful of who you help. But now that we know mortals can obtain godhood… that has me thinking.”

”Thinking about what?” Karamir managed to ask.

”The Gods decide Galbar’s fate,” Kalmar said. ”But how many of those gods actually know what… what it is like to live on the world they have built? I didn’t. Not truly. I tried, but… I never needed food or warmth or drink. Maybe… if more mortals were gods... it wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Arya blinked. She tried to find the right words but couldn't think of any.

”In truth, I’m not even sure I need to die,” Kalmar admitted. ”There might be a way for me to survive. I even have one or two ideas, but… I’m tired. I raised a continent from the sea... I filled it with life... I helped... guide those who needed it… I stood against… the forces of destruction when I was needed… and I lived longer than most creatures have a right to…”

”You’re… you’re giving up?” Karamir asked, shocked.

”Maybe I am,” Kalmar nodded grimly. ”I never thought this day would come, but… here it is.”

”But… what about me? What about Arya? Arryn? Or Kalgrun?”

Kalmar looked back to Arya. ”Will you take care of Arryn when I’m gone?”

She nodded as tears streamed down her face.

Kalmar breathed deeply. ”Thank you,” he said, and turned back to Karamir. ”As for Kalgrun… I leave it in your hands, if you’ll take it.”

Karamir’s eyes widened. ”M-me? But how? I’m only one person…”

”As I said,” Kalmar continued, ”If more mortals were gods, it would not be a bad thing.”

Then realized dawned. ”No…” Karamir whispered. ”No!” he said again, this time louder. ”I’m not ready for that. I… I haven’t accomplished anything. I’ve made mistakes. I’m not ready,” he insisted.

”You’ve accomplished more than you think. As for your readiness… none of us were ready to be gods when the Architect called us here. At least… I wasn’t. I wasn’t much smarter than a wild animal, whose only concern was his next meal. I… did what I could to learn, but… I’m not fit to watch over the Vallamir or the Jotnar. Not as a guide, or a leader… and that’s what they need. You may not be ready now… but you are better poised to learn than I was.”

Those words gave Karamir pause, and his expression turned thoughtful as tears ran down his cheeks.

Arya walked over to Kalmar and hugged him gently. "I wish you wouldn't go." she cried softly. "You were my first… first friend and I'll never forget the time I had with you."

Kalmar hugged her back. ”Thank you,” he said softly, as a single tear trickled from his own eye. ”This… this would have happened eventually, to either you or me. Nothing, not even gods, are eternal. Maybe I’m being selfish by dying first, but… I’m sorry.”

"Don't be sorry. You won, no one can deny that, and now you can rest. I…" she pulled away, a thoughtful look on her face, "What if I told you that… That you didn't have to die fully. That you could go somewhere else, rather than burn."

Kalmar raised an eyebrow. ”To tell you the truth… although I made a deal with her, I don’t have much faith in Azura’s plan.”

"This isn't Azura's crystals… but K'nell's Heaven."

”K’nell?” Kalmar blinked. ”What has he done? I thought he was gone.”

"He is gone. Tendlepog, Xiaoli, Hermes, the Palace, most of the dreamers. He created an infinite paradise and I know how you can get there." she said with a smile.

”So that’s where they went…” Kalmar was incredulous. ”Why am I only hearing about this now?”

"Because… K'nell did not know how the other gods would react to this. He wanted to ensure that it would be kept secret, for now, until the time is right for Galbar to know. I don't know when that time will be… but I do know that it's beautiful in its own way." she said softly.

Kalmar leaned back and looked up. ”If this is an alternative to Pyres… I’ll go there. If only to get more information and have a word with K’nell about it. One last… task. This secret could prevent... a lot of conflict.”

"Kalmar…" she began, "I know. I know. K'nell asked me… To only tell those I trusted. I want to tell everyone, I do but… I just don't know if I should." she sighed before moving her head next to his ear. There she told him the secrets of Moksha and how to enter paradise. She pulled away misty eyed and hugged him again before pulling back.

"I'm fortunate enough to be able to visit… So, this won't be a forever goodbye." she turned to Karamir. "I'll teach you how to visit as well." she said with a soft smile.

”I… I’m still not sure it’s right,” Karamir said hesitantly.

”Karamir,” Kalmar then said. ”Will you accept godhood?”

”I… I don’t know…”

”It’s your choice. But there is no one else I would give it to.”

Karamir looked to Arya. ”There… there was a time when I wanted this,” he said quietly. ”And now that I don’t, it’s being offered to me…” He looked down at Kalmar, and took the god’s hand. ”I’ll take it. I’ll… try to follow your example.”

”It’s not a perfect example, so don’t follow it too closely,” Kalmar cautioned. ”Now, listen closely. You can claim both Kalgrun and the Hunting Grounds. Kalgrun should be easy. The Hunting Grounds… that will be more difficult.” he let go of Karamir’s hand, and pressed a finger to his forehead. ”I’m blessing you so that you will be able to track the gateway. It moves, attaching itself to one animal at a time, which must be hunted in order to access it.”

Kalmar’s hand dropped, and Karamir took it once again. ”I have told Arae about this. Should anyone doubt your claims, she will vouch for their truth. Should anyone try to steal what I have promised you, she will help you get them back. Use your abilities wisely…”

”I will,” Karamir promised, as fresh tears began to reappear. ”I will. T-thank you.”

”Good,” Kalmar said. ”I’m sorry to you as well. I… am thrusting a lot of responsibility on you. Now… if there is nothing else… I think it’s time.”

"Thank you… For everything." Arya said, crying.

Kalmar nodded, and with one final smile, he held his remaining hand before the hole in his chest. Raw power began to flow forth, condensing into a swirling ball of ichor and essence in the palm of his hand. His skin turned pale, he began to breathe heavily, and what was left of his blood began to flow freely from the wound.

”G-goodbye father…” Karamir managed. Kalmar took one look at distant Moksha, then back at Karamir, and mouthed ‘goodbye’ in return. With that final farewell, his head slumped down, and his breathing stopped.

Kalmar was dead.

Karamir turned and immediately wrapped his arms around Arya, tears streaming forth like never before.

She embraced him and let her own tears fall in turn.

Arae walked onto the porch, staring at Kalmar’s body. Her sadness began to well up inside her more than ever before, and she could not help but shed tears as well. Getting onto her knees, she put her hands together and silently prayed for the rest of his days to be peaceful.

Karamir pulled away from Arya, wiped the tears from his eyes, and shifted his gaze to the ball of energy that still floated in Kalmar’s hand. Tentatively, he reached out to grasp it, and then rose to his feet. ”Whatever happens next…” he said to Arya. ”Thank you. For everything.”

Arya went to Arae's side and knelt down with her, placing a hand on her back. She looked up at Karamir and said, "You're so welcome. Be… Safe..."

Karamir descended the porch steps and took ten steps away from the house. He turned back to face them, and looked down at the orb in his hands. Then slowly, he pushed it into his chest. The orb sank through the fabric of his tunic, and into his flesh, before disappearing entirely.

He could feel the orb pulsing within his ribcage, full of power, but nothing else happened. For a moment, he only blinked in confusion, then looked up at the two questioningly. Nothing had happened. Why didn’t-

Then he fell to his knees and began to scream, as the orb expanded and energy surged throughout his body. His hands clutched at his chest, where the pain was greatest, but he felt it all over. His eyes began to glow, and as it had with Arya, blood began to fountain from his mouth. He grew deaf to the rest of the world, and slowly his vision began to fade as well.

Images flashed before his eyes. Kalmar. Atalantia. Pyrdon. Phystene. Diana. Vrog. K’nell. Keibrik. Ruby. Arya. Arryn. Temujin. Abanoc. Liv. Chopstick Eyes. Laurien. Mnemosyne. Orvus. Arae. They were all familiar, to some extent or another, but then he saw one image which was a complete stranger. A great humanoid dragon stood before him. He had never seen such a creature before, but it was this vision which lingered the longest.

It stared at him wordlessly, and then Karamir detected a strange glowing energy in the air. It was mana. Despite having harnessed it, he had never seen it with his own eyes before… yet somehow he knew. The mana coalesced around him, filling him. Both his pain and the vision began to fade, until there was nothing.


He awoke, lying on the grass in a pool of his own blood, and slowly reality came drifting back.

Arya looked down at him, a worried look in her eyes. "How do you feel?" she asked, offering him a hand.

Karamir took her hand, and as he was pulled to his feet, he saw the golden energy all around them. Ignoring her question for the time being, he held out his other hand, and pulled some of the energy into it to form a tiny ball on his palm. ”Do… do you see this?” he asked her.

She raised an eyebrow. "The ball? Why?"

”This is mana… I can see it now. It’s everywhere. I… I knew it was everywhere… but I can see it…”

"Mana… But… How did you get mana? I thought you'd inherit hunting?" she said confused.

”I… don’t know. I saw a… some sort of dragon… and then we were surrounded by mana. Somehow, I just knew what it was.” he said, as he allowed the ball of mana to disperse.

“Mana, huh?” Arae said, watching Karamir test his newfound abilities. Allowing herself a small smile, she added, “That’s rather interesting. Haven’t seen that in a long… huh?” Her mind went cloudy, then she shook her head. “No, never mind. Just… do take care. You’ve only just become a god, after all.”

Karamir looked toward the porch, and a fresh stab of grief surged through his heart. ”K-Kalmar…” he said, running over to where Kalmar’s body now rested.

Arya walked over quietly and rested a hand on his shoulder. "He's gone…" she said. "He should be buried on Kalgrun… That seems right." she said squeezing his shoulder gently.

Karamir gave her a solemn nod. ”I was thinking the same thing. Will… will you come with me?”

"I want to… It's just… Those creatures might still be here and I can't leave this place undefended, not yet." she said.

Karamir was crestfallen. ”Oh… I see… I understand…” he said dejectedly, as he looked away from her. Another tear rolled down his cheek, then he lifted Kalmar up and gently slung the Hunter’s wounded and ragged body over his shoulders. ”I’m… going to go, then. I… we will meet again,” he told her.

She quickly grabbed hold of his free hand and said, "I'm sorry, I am. But we will meet again." she said, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "I know it." she said with a giddy smile on her face before letting his hand go.

Taken aback, Karamir’s hand reached up to brush the spot where she had kissed him. ”I hope so,” he said, giving her a wan smile as he blinked away his tears. ”I’ve been hoping for another dance.”

And then he was gone, taking flight toward the north, and to Kalgrun. Arya watched him go.

“Arya,” Arae said. “Before I leave as well, I thought I should mention a few things about Laurien. Are you aware of what she’s done to Orvus, and more recently to Karamir?”

Arya spun around to look at Arae and sighed. "Yes… I know." she said with sadness.

“Well, I’ve visited her shortly after, in order to give her... punishment. She’s been cursed. She will always be on the run, never staying in a single place for too long,” Arae explained. “I know she’s been through a lot already, but I couldn’t allow her crimes to go unpunished.” She looked around, making sure Orvus was not in earshot of what she was about to say next, then continued with a whisper, “In order to break the curse, she must change. She must become a better person, find peace within herself, and finally make peace with you and Orvus.” Giving a small smile, she added, “It’s a family matter after all. I thought it should be settled by family.”

Arya scrunched her nose and sighed again. "I don't even know who she is anymore, Auntie. But… Thank you for doing that. Hopefully one day she comes around. I suppose I should try and find her eventually." Arya said.

Arae nodded in agreement. “There’s also the matter of her children, Andromeda and Phoset. The journey she is taking is a long and difficult one, so I gave her the choice to either take them with her or leave them in my custody. She has chosen the latter, and they are in my domain at the moment. I will extend the choice to you as well: take them into your custody, or leave them with me. I promised Laurien they wouldn’t be harmed, and I hope that still holds true should you decide to take them in.”

Her eyes widened, "She had children?"

“Yes,” Arae answered. “A boy and a girl, both bright and beautiful.”

"Uh… Yes, bring them here, if you would, please. I have no doubt you would raise them properly, but they are my family, and they'll be looked after here." she said with a smile.

Arae nodded. Without another word, Arae transformed into her dragon form and shot up into the sky, returning to the Dragon’s Crown.

Arya watched Arae leave and then after a moment went to go find Orvus. It was time for some more answers.






In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay

Squall Whisperers, Minstrels


The Stormbards stayed in the village for another day, sharing their songs and showing a few interested selka how to make their own musical instruments. Then the following morning they had tied together small bundles of food and left.

As they walked, the five musicians played songs together, letting Pallamino get a feel for playing with the Stormbards while also listening to Pallamino’s own style. As they sat for a light lunch, Pyouroff looked to Pallamino and suggested, “You’ve been to plenty of places we haven’t. Got any songs or stories to share?”

“I do,” Pallamino said with a nod and a light smile.

“Well let’s hear them, Pallamino,” Kaleo said.

“Well, there was one time when two Selka went on a hunt…” Pallamino began, and then launched into a tale. It was based on a true story that happened to him, but he hid his own involvement. “One was called Koma, and the other was Manu,” he said, changing the names of the participants.

The story went on, how the two hunters had separated, and then followed the journey of Manu, as he crept through the woods searching for prey. He heard a sound, saw a flash of movement, and loosed an arrow. It turned out that the movement had been Koma, who he accidentally shot in the rear.

What followed was a dramatic and heroic survival story, as Manu tended to the wound and carried Koma back to the village. The climax of the tale saw Manu fighting a bear with nothing but his wits and a sharp piece of stone, and he prevailed. Then they returned to the village, where Koma was saved and Manu was welcomed as a hero. “And that’s the end,” Pallamino proclaimed happily once it was over.

“Manu fought a bear!” Kaleo exclaimed

“He shot Koma in the butt,” Pyouroff sniggered

“Poor Koma,” sighed Sulingu.

“We could make a pretty rousing song from that,” Hujaya suggested, to which the other Stormbards nodded.

“A song of a brave hero,” said Sulingu.

“A heroic story which people can relate to, though,” Pyouroff said.

“Although fighting off a bear single-handedly isn’t exactly everyday,” Kaleo said.

“Got to have something to aspire to,” Pyouroff retorted.

“Well, how shall we start it?” Hujaya asked.

“It should start upbeat,” Pallamino suggested. “Like they’re two friends going on an adventure.”

“Ha, yes, an upbeat adventure!” proclaimed Kaleo.

“Hmm,” Hujaya sat contemplatively. She soon started plucking a simple phrase on her lyre, nodding her head and moving her lips along with the rhythm until she had formulated some lyrics.

“The day was fresh, the sun had rose,
When these two friends, picked up their bows.”

Hujaya kept repeating the notes on her lyre as she paused to think again. “We’ll need to introduce Koma and Manu. What words can we use to describe them?”

“Manu fought a bear, so he’d have to be big, strong, and quick,” Pallamino pointed out. “But he wasn’t much of a hunter, to have made a mistake like that. Koma would have been more experienced in hunting, which sets up a role reversal when he needs Manu’s help.”

Hujaya went back to nodding with the rhythm, and she seemed to go through several lines in her head before settling on,

“Koma, hunter extraordinaire.
Manu was strong, but not aware.”

“Into the forest, these two split ways,
To trek more ground, find meat for days.”

Hujaya paused in her singing again to think of the next lines. Then Pallamino offered a suggestion.

“Manu saw something, it moved in the bush,
He sent an arrow, into Koma’s tush.”

“Ha, nice one,” Pyouroff exclaimed.

Hujaya moved her lips silently with the lyre. “The rhyme’s good, but it’s a little longer than the other lines,” she commented. She played the phrase on her lyre a couple more times before singing,

“Manu saw movement in the bush,
He shot his bow, at Koma’s tush.”

“That works too,” Pallamino said with a nod.

Hujaya continued,

“Koma fell down, arrow in rear.
Manu rushed up, face full of fear.”

“Hmm, now how’d he treat the wound?” Hujaya pondered.

Pallamino shrugged. He knew full well how the wound was treated, yet he had to maintain the pretense that he wasn’t there. “Maybe he found something to bind it?” he suggested. “Leaves, fur… I don’t know.”

Hujaya strummed another phrase on the lyre. “Manu bandaged the wound up tight. Manu found leaves, to bind the wound. But what’s the next line?”

Kaleo suggested,

“Koma can’t walk, try as he might.
With his strong arms, Manu picked up,
The poor selka, like a young pup.”

Hujaya nodded. “Yes, good. The bear should come in the next verse.”

Pallamino nodded in agreement. The bear had, in truth, been a lone wolf that he had scared off by throwing a rock, but that wasn’t quite as exciting. “They say the bear pinned him,” Pallamino said, “but he grabbed a nearby rock and bashed it in the head until it gave up and ran.”

Hujaya’s head bounced along with her lyre, and she sang,

“Holding Koma, the walk was fair,
Till Manu was met by a bear.
Manu was pinned, but he could fight.
He grabbed a rock, struck with great might.
Though it was grim, he did not cede,
Till the bear fled, and he was freed.”

Pallamino decided to add the last verse.

”Then to the village they returned,
And a brand new lesson they learned.
When you search the forest for loot,
Always take care, watch where you shoot.”

Hujaya clapped her hands together. “There’s our song! Now let’s see if we can get some music to it.”

Pyouroff picked up his drum and started to beat out a rhythm. Sulingu pulled out her flute and played a few experimental notes. Hujaya continued to play her lyre, Pallamino brought out his conch, and Kaleo hummed to warm up his voice. The Stormbards made eye contact with Hujaya, who gave a nod. Kaleo took a deep breath in and sang as the rest played on their instruments, “Oooooh,

“The day was fresh, the sun had rose,
When these two friends picked up their bows…”


Golden brown sargassum stretched through the blue-green water, shafts of sunlight piercing down from above. Schools of small fish swam between the fronds and nibbled on the algae. On the sand below a crab walked, nipping at passing fragments of sargasso with its claws and putting them in its mouth.

A blur of grey dove down from the sargasso above, heading for the crab. The crab turned and pointed its pincers menacingly as it slowly walked backwards. The selka pulled up short, Kaleo keeping back from the snapping claws. He thumped the ground a few times, as though intimidating the crustacean.

Behind the crab the lithe form of Sulingu approached quietly. While the crab was still distracted by Kaleo, she reached out and snatched the crab by the claw, quickly pulling it up from the sand and letting it dangle buoyantly. Sulingu flashed Kaleo a grin with a stream of bubbles escaping from her mouth, and Kaleo gave a little smile in return. They swam back up and breached the surface, Sulingu holding the crab at arm’s length.

A triumphant tune sounded, from where Pallamino sat in the shallows, up to his shoulders in water, with the conch shell at his lips. He had opted to continue playing the instrument instead of going for a swim today, and when Sulingu appeared above water with a crab, he had quickly launched into a series of upbeat notes to celebrate the achievement.

Hujaya was also on the surface at the time and applauded both Sulingu’s catch and Pallamino’s music. Kaleo took a sharpened stick from his belt and, with Sulingu holding the crab, he skewered the crab from behind and it stopped struggling against Sulingu. Kaleo, Sulingu and Hujaya swam back to shore. Pyouroff broke the surface shortly after with a fish on the end of a simple spear and also headed back. Pallamino rose to his feet and began to wade back toward the beach as they drew near.

Sulingu and Kaleo went looking for some suitable rocks to open the crab with once they got back to shore. Hujaya waded up beside Pallamino. Once Pyouroff stood up, he brought the spear to his face and took a bite out of the fish. He waded closer to Hujaya and Pallamino and proffered the fish-holding spear towards them. “Want some?” he asked, still chewing.

Pallamino accepted the spear, brought it to his own mouth, and took a bite from the other end of the fish before handing it over to Hujaya who also took a bite. “Good catch,” he complimented. “I was quite the fisherman myself.”

“Is that so? You can catch the next meal then,” Pyouroff said jovially, patting Pallamino on the back as he retrieved his spear from Hujaya.

On the beach there was a crunch and gristle as Kaleo cracked open the shell of the crab. Sulingu struck one of the claws with a rock, peeled back the shell and scooped out the flesh to eat. Pyouroff sat down beside them and stuck his spear butt first into the sand. Hujaya and Pallamino sat beside him shortly after, and in a circle the five of them ate the fresh seafood.

Eventually Hujaya asked, “You said... Arryn taught you about hunting. A hunting god from down-beach, from what Pyouroff said.”

“Well, no,” Pallamino corrected. “Arryn is the ‘Avatar’ of the Hunting God, whose name is Kalmar. An Avatar is some sort of messenger, or representative, and it was Arryn who taught us how to hunt. He taught some other tribes, too.”

Hujaya rolled the strange word over her tongue, then settled on a more familiar term. “Arryn messenger of Kalmar. But you met him, though?” Hujaya said, looking at Pallamino with interest.

“I did,” Pallamino nodded with some enthusiasm. “We spoke often, he even came to me for advice once or twice.”

Sulingu looked astonished, Hujaya raised an eyebrow in surprise, and Pyouroff eyed Pallamino skeptically. “A god came to you for advice?” Hujaya asked.

“Well, an avatar,” Pallamino corrected once again. “He spent a lot of time among us. He would ask our opinions on things.”

“What sorts of things?” Hujaya asked.

“Where we were living, the leadership of our village, the availability of food, what we would do in certain scenarios, things like that,” Pallamino said with a shrug.

The Stormbards looked at each other. This was quite the news to them. Sulingu piped up, “So..., what does Arryn look like?”

“He’s a bird,” Pallamino said. “Brown and red feathers, and a bright yellow beak.”

“Is he big? He must be huuuge, being godly and all,” Sulingu said wide-eyed.

“No, he’s actually small,” Pallamino shook his head. “He said it drew less attention.”

“He’s god of- ‘avatar’ of the god of hunting, Sulingu. He’s not going to be some giant beast. Can’t hunt like that,” Pyouroff scoffed.

Sulingu pouted. “How are you meant to tell he’s a god’s af- av- messenger, though? Delphina’s big and impressive. Right, Hujaya?”

Hujaya nodded and smiled fondly. “Yes, Delphina is great and beautiful. She leaves no doubt that you are in the presence of the divine.”

“Well, for a start, he speaks to us - no bird can do that,” Pallamino said. “He taught and gifted us things we had never seen before, and gave us blessings in the past. Then there is the god he serves, Kalmar, who often answers prayers. I’ve heard his voice myself,” he said proudly.

“You are blessed to have been spoken to by two gods, Pallamino,” Hujaya said. “Perhaps we should compose a song about Arryn and Kalmar some time. Unless you already have one.”

“I don’t,” Pallamino shook his head. “Despite all the help they’ve been to us, there isn’t that much material that can be put into a song.”

Hujaya frowned. “That’s a shame. I’m sure we’ll figure out something some time, though.”

“Really no tales and stories? Your elders must have told you something about them on nights around the bonfire,” Pyouroff said.

“Well, there are some stories, I’m just not sure they’ll make for exciting songs,” Pallamino shrugged. “When my tribe first met Arryn, he came to us during a food shortage. Either our fishermen were having poor luck at the time, or most of the fish had moved elsewhere. Arryn taught us how to hunt on the land instead of the sea, and gave us bows to do it. I don’t know if you’ve seen a bow before, but he’s the one who invented it. Food stopped being an issue, and in gratitude a shrine was made for Kalmar.”

“Those are those curved sticks with string which can hurl little spears, yes?” Kaleo said, “We’ve seen a few tribes down-beach with them.”

Hujaya hummed, then suggested, “A song of praise, perhaps. Arryn’s done such good things for your tribe, a good song would be fitting gratitude.”

“I suppose it would,” Pallamino nodded. “I’d need time to think of one.”

Hujaya waved a hand. “Of course.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “What tales of Delphina do the Ubbo tell?”

“Well, first, we call her Ashalla,” Pallamino said. “That’s her true name. Apparently we Selka are the only ones who call her Delphina. We only met her twice. The first time was when she spoke to me on the beach and gave me this conch. The second time was when she had us perform a concert to show her our music, and we impressed her.”

There were looks of confusion and surprise among the Stormbards. “Ashalla,” Hujaya said slowly, testing the name.

“‘We Selka’,” Pyouroff said with a furrowed brow. “What do you mean by that?”

“Arryn spoke of other lands, and other people,” Pallamino answered. “They look different from us and believe different things, but he said they were just as smart.”

Sulingu’s eyes widened. “That sounds exciting. Do you think we’ll get to meet them?”

Hujaya, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention. “Her true name?” she muttered. A great conflict seemed to be rolling behind her face.

Kaleo noticed, then suggested, “Perhaps we should share our stories of Delphina.”

“But, if…” Hujaya was silent for many long seconds. Then her worry was covered over by resolve and she picked up her lyre. “Ippino.”

That word was enough for the other Stormbards to set down their food, pick up their own instruments and begin to play. Hujaya looked down at her lyre, closed her eyes and sang the song of the Man Who Loved the Sea, her voice gentle and beautiful.

“There once was a man who lived by the sea.
He looked at the water and found beauty,
In light of the moon and blue of the sea,
That man sung 'Delphina how I love thee.'”


It was night-time. The light of the Lustrous Garden shone dimly between a few clouds. The Stormbards had found a spot to sleep and had laid down to rest. But Hujaya was not with the sleeping selka. Instead she was kneeling in the surf facing out to sea, lyre hanging by her side.

“Delphina- or, Ashalla- or, I- I don’t even know anymore,” she said softly, her voice strained. She hung her head in her hands.

There was a splash of feet wading through water behind her, and a selka sat down behind her, but she did not look up. “What’s on your mind, Hujaya?” asked a concerned baritone voice.

Hujaya stared out to sea for a few moments. “Ippino, Yupiligo, none of them ever said Delphina’s ‘true name’ was Ashalla. No one knew, not even me.”

Kaleo laid a hand on Hujaya’s back. “Yet Delphina answered them all the same. She came to Ippino. She came to you. It’s just a name. Some people or things are known by multiple names by different people.”

Hujaya crossed her arms across her chest. “It’s not the name which bothers me.”

“Oh?”

“If they didn’t have the right name, what else did they get wrong? That’s what scares me.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

Kaleo shuffled sideways and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Hujaya leant into the embrace. “No one said the name was wrong,” Kaleo said.

“But… it’s what Arryn said. Even the gods say ‘Ashalla’.”

“That doesn’t mean ‘Delphina’ is not true,” Kaleo said, “Ippino spoke endless praises to Delphina’s name, and he was the most favoured and loved of all mortals. And you, you are second only to Ippino, Hujaya.”

Hujaya looked sideways to Kaleo for the first time. Tears glistened at the edge of her eyes. “Really?”

“Delphina said so herself. And we all know it to be true.”

Hujaya leaned over and hugged Kaleo with her own arms. Kaleo brought up his other arm to complete the embrace.

“You’re worrying too much, putting too much weight on Pallamino’s words,” Kaleo eventually said. “His tribe doesn’t even know where their gods came from. But we do.” Then Kaleo sung softly in Hujaya’s ear.

“In a time, long ago,
Kirron made the land we know.
Stone and earth he raised high,
But the world was oh so dry.”

Hujaya knew the song well, and sang the next verse almost by reflex.

“Life was made on the land,
Children of Kirron’s own hand.
In the depths were others,
Made by Delphina as hers.”

Kaleo and Hujaya sung in harmony as the song continued.

“The pair’s love was so strong,
Held each other all night long.
But she was called away,
Sacred duties to obey.”

Kaleo then pulled back to look into Hujaya’s eyes as he sung.

“‘Oh why must you leave me?
Yet I know it’s your duty.
But my beautiful dear,
Who’ll love me without you near?’”

Hujaya looked back into Kaleo’s eyes as she sung.

“‘Never shall I leave you,
Always I shall embrace you,
No matter how far off,
By this you will know my love.’”

A little smile formed on Kaleo’s face as he sang the next verse.

“‘Show me how you’ll do this,
Reach from across the abyss.
Delphina, show me how,
Far from land you’ll keep this vow.’”

Hujaya brought her face slightly closer to Kaleo’s as she sang with her melodious voice.

“‘I will open the deep,
From which much water will weep,
This is how I’ll love you,
I made the seas to hug you.’”

Kaleo’s voice joined with Hujaya’s in beautiful unison for the final verse.

“From where Delphina sings,
Her love to us the waves brings.
Her love won’t leave Kirron,
Forever it will carry on.”

They remained close as the last notes hung in the air, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chests as they breathed slowly. Then Hujaya pulled Kaleo into a deep embrace. “Thank you,” she said from over his shoulder.

“Any time,” Kaleo replied, holding firmly onto Hujaya.

They continued to hug as two more waves rolled past them. Then Hujaya planted a kiss on Kaleo’s cheek and stood up, brushing the sand off her knees. Kaleo stood up and brushed his sand off too. They started walking back inland, but Hujaya paused for a moment to turn back towards the ocean and whispered, “Thank you, Delphina.” Then they walked back to the camp together.


Music and laughter filled the air of the little village. A drum beat, a rattle shook, a flute played, and a lyre strummed together in an energetic song. And within a semi-circle of rapt onlookers danced Sulingu, her movements one with the music.

As usual, Pallamino blew into his shell, his fingers in a dance of their own as music poured forth. Pyouroff beat his drum and clapped his sticks together, marking the tempo for the others and providing a driving beat. Hujaya’s fingers flowed across the strings of her lyre. Kaleo held a rattle and shook it in time. Sulingu danced freely. She kicked her legs high, she spun tightly, her movements flowed with agility and grace.

Eventually the dance came to an end, and Sulingu bowed to the clapping crowd, breathing heavily. But the crowd wanted more. Hujaya looked over to the other musicians, as though asking what to do next. Then Pallamino began to play, launching into the tune of the song they had created just the other day. Pyouroff jumped into the beat immediately, and Hujaya eased into the melody and gave Kaleo a nod. Sulingu stepped back into line with the musicians with a graceful twirl, picking up her flute, while Kaleo put down the rattle and stepped up to where Sulingu had been just before. “Listen up, for I have a thrilling story to tell,” he announced. Then, when the music was right, he launched into the song.

“The day was fresh, the sun had rose,
When these two friends, picked up their bows.
Koma, hunter extraordinaire.
Manu was strong, but not aware.”

The audience listened, with a few whispers among themselves.

“Into the forest, these two split ways,
To trek more ground, find meat for days.
Manu saw movement in the bush,
He shot his bow, at Koma’s tush.”

At the last word Kaleo slapped his own backside to the raucous laughter of the crowd. At the same time the music transitioned to a slightly different melody, with more urgency. Pallamino smirked, but did not waver in his task.

“Koma fell down, arrow in rear.
Manu rushed up, face full of fear.
Manu bandaged the wound up tight.
Koma can’t walk, try as he might.
With his strong arms, Manu picked up,
The poor selka, like a young pup.”

The music grew more intense as Kaleo entered the next verse.

“Holding Koma, the walk was fair,
Till Manu was met by a bear.
Manu was pinned, but he could fight.
He grabbed a rock, struck with great might.
Though it was grim, he did not cede,
Till the bear fled, and he was freed.”

Kaleo stopped singing for a few moments for the music to strike a victorious chorus. Then he sang the final verse.

“Then to the village they returned,
And a brand new lesson they learned.
When you search the forest for loot,
Always take care, watch where you shoot.”

And at the end, while the other musicians stopped, Pallamino carried on alone. He took his instrument into one hand as he added in a series of foot stomps and knee slaps while he played the final notes, and then bowed deeply once it was finished.

The crowd applauded and cheered, both to Kaleo and Pallamino. Pyouroff rolled his eyes, but Hujaya seemed happy. The audience approached to give their compliments, with hand shakes and back pats. Among the throng, a boy in his early teens approached Pallamino and asked, “Hey, um, er, could you show me how to do that?”

“Oh?” Pallamino looked down at the boy and smiled, “do what?”

“To play music,” he answered.

“Do you have an instrument?” Pallamino asked him.

“Umm,” the boy looked down sheepishly, “no.”

“Well, first you need an instrument,” Pallamino said. “Is it the flute you’re interested in playing?”

The boy lifted his eyes to Pallamino’s conch. “Er, yes.”

“Well, I can give you a quick lesson on how to play mine,” Pallamino suggested, “and then when you get your own you’ll already have some idea of what to do.”

The boy looked up eagerly and nodded his head. “Okay.”

Pallamino held his conch back up. “So when you blow into it,” he began, doing so in a quick demonstration, “the air passes through these holes, and sound comes out. By covering the holes, you get different sounds.” He put the flute back to his lips and played a few demonstrative notes. “It’s all about putting those sounds together in a way that pleases either you or the listener.” He wiped the conch off and handed it to the boy. “You give it a try.”

The boy took the conch, inspected it for a moment, took a deep breath then blew into it. He produced nothing but breathy wind. Pallamino looked at him for a moment, and then realization dawned. “Oh right,” he said. “There’s also a certain technique you need to do with your lips. Let me show you…” he reached forward to take the conch back.

He showed the boy the best way to hold it, and how to blow into it. Then, he taught the boy some basic notes, and once he had managed those, he sent the kid on his way. All the while, Hujaya had watched the scene carefully.

The Stormbards mingled with the villagers for a while longer. They were given a share of the evening meal in exchange for a couple more musical performances. Then, the next morning, Hujaya called over Pallamino to the rest of the Stormbards.

“We’ve made our decision,” she said. “We will teach you to be a Stormbard.”

Pallamino blinked in surprise, perhaps wondering if he had heard her correctly, and then smiled. “Well!” he said confidently, “I’m glad to hear it.”

“But first, you have to take the oath.”

“Oh, of course, the oath. Um… what is it, exactly?”

Hujaya waved a hand. “It has three parts. Just repeat after me. I promise to always worship Delphina, who gives me my strength.”

“I promise to always worship Delphina, who gives me my strength,” Pallamino said, his voice both serious and sincere.

“I promise to use my power and skills to show Delphina’s strength, and to create beauty wherever I go.”

“I promise to use my power and skills to show Delphina’s strength, and to create beauty wherever I go,” he repeated.

“I promise to teach others as I was taught.”

“I promise to teach others as I was taught,” he concluded.

Hujaya clapped her hands together. “By taking this oath, you are now a Stormbard, and you can learn how to speak with squalls.” Kaleo, Pyouroff and Sulingu cheered their congratulations and walked up to shake Pallamino’s hand and pat him on the back.

Pallamino smiled, shook their hands with vigour, and returned their back pats with pats of his own. “So, when do I start learning?” he asked.

“We can start right away if you like,” Hujaya said. She turned and beckoned for him to follow. “Come, let’s find some squalls.”


In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Karamir

&
Arya



Karamir stared intently at the clay cup, filled almost to the brim with water. He squinted slightly, and then waved a palm upward, only to frown. He brought his hand down, and then tried again, only to frown. He waved a few more times at the air above the cup, this time from left to right, but nothing happened, and his eyes widened. “No…” he whispered.

Arya sat across from him, watching the spectacle with a frown. Before them were empty plates of plates and scraps of food. It had been a large meal, but she found herself not very hungry. Karamir, for his part, had been ravenous. After telling Karamir all he wanted to know about the world, and helping to fill in some of his gaps, the two sat in silence. Now, Arya was perplexed.

“That’s not how you drink, Karamir.” she said, worried.

For a moment he only stared at her, and then, he snapped. “I know!” he said angrily, then took a breath, and calmed himself. “I can’t cast mana anymore…” he said softly.

Arya winced. Slowly she straightened herself and asked in a small voice, “Mana…?”

“Something one of the gods taught me, I think,” he said in a defeated tone, as he let his hand drop. “It’s… a source of power, that allows certain mortals to do things others can’t. I could control water and wind with it, but now… I can’t.” He sighed.

“I see.” she said. “Maybe you just need to keep trying. With your condition, maybe you forgot something?”

“Maybe…” he said in an unsure tone, but he did not move, or say any more.

“Don’t be discouraged. Perhaps if you teach me how to, something could click?” she asked with a hopeful tone.

“I don’t know… I guess I could try,” he shrugged. “It took me a really long time, though. How long do you think it will be until my soul can be healed?”

Arya shrugged. “There’s still no word from Arryn or Kalmar. I’m sure they’ll say something soon.”

Karamir seized that opportunity to move on from the topic of his lost mana. “You told me you knew Kalmar, but you were surprised when you found out what he did to me. Why is that?” he asked her.

Arya sighed. “Kalmar, at one point in time, was like a wall. Impenetrable and unmoving. There were cracks, but he has a hard time being empathetic with others. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, but that’s not always the case. I’ve always wanted him to care for his creations, and love them and he does love them, but he does not show it. So when you told me he beat you with a stick and cast you out to fend for yourself, I was angry, because that life should not be given to anyone, especially we who come into the world as little more than children.” her voice faded. She looked past him and as if in deep thought.

“Do you know if I met him at any point after that?” he asked. “I don’t remember anything else of him, but it feels almost like he was the one who forgot me.”

She did not answer for a minute, and then said absentmindedly, “I hope so.” before falling silent again.

Karamir was silent as well, and several awkward seconds passed before he once again attempted to reignite the conversation. “This talk just keeps making me feel sadder and sadder,” he said truthfully. “Is there anything else we can do while the time passes?”

Her eyes focused and at once she shot up, “You’re quite right! This moping about isn’t doing us any good. Come on, let’s go check on the others and see if we can do anything to help out.”

Karamir rose to his feet, not quite sharing her enthusiasm but welcoming the chance to do something else. “Let’s go, then.”

The two stepped outside. The darkening sky over them was a spectacle of lights, the bright glow of the Garden, and further away Moksha, joined by hundreds of bright streaks sliding down towards Galbar. Somewhere in the distance, a flash of ruddy radiance descended into the sea, followed by a dull blasting sound. Outlandish as it might have been, such a sight was now not outside the ordinary.

What was clearly out there, however, was the enormous dark shape approaching in the heavens from southward. By the time they could clearly discern it against the twilight, it was almost over them. It veered to the northwest as it came, leaving behind the whoosh of gigantic wings, and descended into the forest line as soon as it had gained it. Almost serpentine in its motions, it dipped down again and again between the treetops, before taking one final dive and disappearing among the woods.

Already Karamir’s dagger was out, and before Arya’s very eyes, the small blade had transformed into a spear. “We’ll need to see what that was,” he said, extending a hand to her. “Come.”

Without saying anything, Arya bolted in the direction of the creature. As she ran, something shot out from the house, zipping past Karamir before it collided with Arya in a flash of bright light. When the light dimmed, she was clad in armor head to toe, a helmet with a fully covered visor sat atop her head and the object, a glowing sword, hung loosely in her hand as she took off into the air. Then just like that, the jungle swallowed her.

Karamir frowned in annoyance, then levitated into the air and sped after her. His cloak was faster, and so he quickly caught up, then slowed to match her pace. Neither could go at full speed anyway, since they had to dodge and weave between the trees.

The woods around them seemed different from their usual nightly animation. The scraping, chattering and singing of birds and beasts was hushed, as though the jungle's usual inhabitants had been cowed by something unfamiliar. Now and then, their sharp senses caught strange signs - a waft of tremendously rancid stench, a low porcine grunt, a small, stunted form flitting among the tree-trunks.

As they approached the spot where the great flying being had disappeared, a sound even more uncannily out of place reached their ears. A musical tune slithered over the undergrowth, more elaborate than anything any player short of a divine would have been capable of. It was fast, almost frantic at times, and alternating between subduedly ribald and dimly ominous tones. Most striking of all, however, was the instrument. It was not every day that a violin was heard on Galbar.

[left]Ambience[/left]

“K’nell…?” Arya whispered as they flew.

Then the trees parted.

A large clearing in the jungle had been made even larger by forceful means. Crouching over a vast stretch of crushed trunks was an immense creature whose skin glinted under the nocturnal lights as though it had been of metal. Its long, skeletal body was half-coiled on itself, resting on the clawed tips of colossal leathery wings. The inexpressive lights of two fiery eyes burned dully in its mouthless skull-like head.

Scattered on its back, sitting, crouching, lying and sprawling, hundreds of squat forms crowded about. Snarling pig snouts with cruel looks in their beady eyes flashed in the Gardenlight, reflected in places from dirty blades. The distant sound of jeering squeals broke over the music.

Before the gigantic beast, in the middle of the clearing, a bulky figure squatted in a clay lantern's circle of light. Its bloated body was clad in a tremendously grimy suit of otherwise very finely made armour; the myriad imperfections of the body below, pustules and sores alike, were rendered in nauseating detail. The visored head swayed lightly as the horribly different arms drew the tune from what, despite the sound, was far too large to be a violin.

On a closer look, the lantern itself was the head of a robed figure that held a tablet under the elbow of a wooden arm.

The deformed player reached the end of his symphony and closed it with a strident shriek, spinning the bow in a flourish. He turned his head to both sides - something like a darting black snake seemed to flick before his helmet as he did - and stopped its hidden face towards the newcomers.

"Check this out! Backdrop," he pointed at the streak-spangled sky, "sound, and an audience that's more than these spitheads! I've really got it all tonight!" His voice was a ghastly reverberating gurgle. "That's one gutted tip that pays off."

Arya was horrified at the sight before her, and she felt sick just watching. It was not K’nell, that had been a foolish hope. But the grip on her sword tightened as she realized who the monster that spoke was- Vrog. Laurien had told her about him, that he was dangerous and vile. And now… he was here and there would be no Gods that could come to their aid. They were on their own.

“Diana is behind this,” Karamir whispered, a low fury in his voice. His attention was not on Vrog, but on the other creatures and a memory came back to him - of a hot day, an uncomfortable oversized umbrella, and a glassy orb. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

"So that's her name?" Vrog mused with a portion of his voices, "Di… Dj… Jana?" He tapped his instrument with unnaturally long fingers, "Jana, not too scrapped as names go. Heard better, though." He gave an out-of-tune screech from his viola and jabbed a hooked finger at Karamir. "You said it yourself, slagbrain. She tipped me there's folks round here not having much fun, so I brought 'em some pals. Got another batch, but we've gotta make a stop after a spitted ocean."

Vrog hobbled towards them, still holding the viola. The lantern stayed in its place, and the swollen horror moved through the darkness, heralded by a throat-clenchingly foul smell. "Now you, I'm sure I smelled you before." He pointed at Karamir again. "No gutted clue where, though. Maybe Chop's place, you been there?"

“I… think?” he said, not entirely certain, his confusion threatening to overtake him as he looked deeper into his scrambled memory. Based on Arya’s description, he knew he had met Chopstick, but what place was he referring to? Then he shook his head and dashed the confusion aside. “Where is the orb?” he asked instead.

A spluttering cackle came from under Vrog's helmet. "Can't remember? You spitbellies can't handle a drink." He tapped his bow against the side of his head. "Don't know guts about an orb, either. Sure that's not from the cup too, scrapper?"

Karamir glared at him. “Diana had an orb, and these creatures were inside it,” he insisted. “Somehow they were made real. Are you telling me it’s a coincidence?”

"She had a..." the bow briefly went through the visor's grille, "Now you say it, I'd found them after she'd dropped them. Ate that bit." A disgusting slobbering sound accompanied these words. "Guess it's the closest you get to biting that - morsel. Full worth it, I say."

The black tendril slipped out from his head again. Up close, it was clear this was a long, misshapen tongue, whose tip appeared to have been violently cut off. It tentatively jabbed around Karamir, then swept towards Arya, hovering around her and stopping over the back of one of her hands before whipping back in. "Jana's been out a while, though, and that's a spitting bother. Her whole place feels gutted off." His accusing finger turned against Arya. "Smells like you'd know something about that."

Arya stood still in a state of confusion. She had been about to cut the thing’s tongue off, but it retracted. Several questions flooded into her mind, about Diana and K’nell. What was going on?

“You came here, because Diana told you…” she said before looking at the Pigguts. “What are these things?” she then said angrily.

"They're a spitlot of fun," Vrog churned, "The stuff they do with each other's a laugh, can't wait to taste how they cook your kind. Now, you going to be like that slaghead Laurien - you smell kinda like her, actually - or you answering the spitting question?"

“You need to leave before I kill you.” Arya threatened, relaxing into an offensive stance. She would not- Could not allow such creatures in her home. It was the only one left.

And neither could Karamir. He had endured Diana’s nightmares, because in the end he would always wake up, and the damage was never physical. Yet here her creatures stood, in direct defiance of that one consolation. Anger and fear filled him. The hand holding the spear began to shake, but then he steeled himself, burying the fear beneath the anger. His grip steadied, his expression hardened with resolve, the spearhead formed into a glaive, and he fell into a stance of his own.

"Kheh-hah! You're almost as funny." Vrog tossed the bow upwards - it never came down - and hefted up the viola holding it like a maul. For a musical instrument, it certainly looked very heavy. "Two of you, hundreds of us, how's that sound? Tell you what, though, I'm in a good mood now, and I'll give you a deal. You-" he motioned at Arya, "-tell me what I want to hear, and we all take up and have our stop elseplace, that good? We're near done here either way. You don't," he twirled his improvised weapon between his fingers, "and maybe you'll poke me a couple times with your gutsticks, but you'll be in a spitting hilarious way when we're done. Once in a lifetime offer, how's that to you?"

“I’d rather burn in the pyres, than tell you anything, monster. Now you listen.” she said twirling Wreanon. “The twin of this sword, almost slew a god. You will take these things and go now, or I will be forced to use it. No other offers, no other excuses. Leave, or else.” she said sternly.

"Slag, you try to go easy for once..." Vrog mused, seemingly to himself. "You're spitting lucky I got a drink to smell ahead that leaves your scrapyard bodies in the pits in compare. Real nice night, so I'll try again. Sure your buddy here," he nudged the viola in Karamir's direction, "doesn't want to hear about the sleep place too? Guessing it beats a couple broken arms."

“How well do you think you’d stand against a god?” Karamir suddenly asked, tightening his grip on the glaive.

"Depends," Vrog scratched the underside of his head, "Bit more specific?"

”I was created by Kalmar,” Karamir said, ”and Arya here has his favour. He’s the God of the Hunt. Even if you kill us, you won’t be able to hide from him. How long do you think it will take for him to find you and skin you?”

"A gut of a time. Got no skin on me." He rubbed his protruding stomach. "Doubt he's much useful here, though. You don't got anyone who'd know what I'm asking? Get it you slagheads don't." Hard to tell as it was, the final part sounded like having a smile to it.

“So be it!” Arya yelled before lowering her voice to say, “Karamir… Be careful.” The Lady of the Eye then began to walk forward.

Karamir nodded, and as Arya walked forward, he used his cloak to launch himself upward, well over Vrog’s head. Instead of attacking the Avatar directly, he instead set his sights on the skeletal dragon, and lunged toward it.

"All you spitters right itching for a crack," Vrog grumbled, sliding backwards in as close an approximation of a defensive posture as his choice of weapon would allow. He pointed at Arya again, and a momentary dizziness accompanied by a pang of nausea swept over her. Almost immediately, he leapt forward, dodging and sliding sideways with an agility impressive for his bulk while swinging his instrument in a series of frighteningly hefty blows.

Behind him, the winged monstrosity seemed to have caught sight of Karamir, as it whipped around and lifted a wing. It was not fast enough, however, for the red blur that was Karamir zipped forward and skewered its eye in a single thrust. The creature let out a loud, humming moan, shaking its head as heat from the great molten core in its socket coursed up the blade. But Karamir’s ring glowed, and he did not feel it.

Something was wrong Arya knew. She barely had enough time to bring Wreanon up to block the Avatar’s swings, sending her to her knees in the process. She felt so heavy and slow, especially her mind. She could barely remember what to do next, but luckily for her, there was an opening. She rolled between Vrog’s legs, and then brought her sword up to swipe at him from behind, but it was far slower than usual.

Indeed, her adversary was no faster now than before, but he nonetheless had the time to hop ahead out of the strike’s way. The tip of the blade caught him in the back, and it was enough to slice a long, thin gash in his armour, which immediately burst with a flow of impurity like a cut blister. Vrog grunted, but did not slow. Swivelling around, he brought down his viola in another barrage of pounding strikes, this time pressing his advance.

Her head hurt, and each of the blows felt like a mountain barring down upon her with the speed of a jackalope. It was too much for Arya in her state, and she was too slow to block the final strike, which hit her in the side of the head. The blow sent her flying to the side, and she only came to a stop because of a jungle tree. She let out a gasp, she saw stars and then her vision faded to night. Wreanon, floated above her, the sword standing idle.

“Arya!” Karamir shouted, having fallen back from the winged monstrosity. Slamming his weapon back into its sheathe, he flew over to where she had fallen, and picked her up. With a grunt, he hoisted her armoured form over one shoulder, and then reached for her sword… only to pause, as if something was whispering into his mind.

Vrog hefted his instrument with a curious gesture, lightly touching its strings with a claw. "Amazing how much stuff this thing's good for, no? Shoulda thought of it sooner." He spun the fiddle, which was in his hand again, and stabbed it in Karamir's direction. "Holda there, spithead, I'm not done with her. No slagging around or you'll wish I'd just break them arms."

“You will do no such thing, abomination.” A voice proclaimed from above them. Descending into view, Abanoc stood in Vrog’s way. “I will give you fair warning: depart from this place or I shall force you to.”

Karamir’s weapon came back out, and it morphed into a sword of similar shape to Wreanun, but he did not act. Uncertain, he looked from Vrog, to the pigguts, to the new arrivals.

"Aha! That’s better!" If anything, Vrog seemed overjoyed at the development. He drew a shriek from the viola and shifted the bow towards the god. "You smell like a level gutface, so here’s the idea. Tell me one little thing," he pinched two fingers together to show just how little, "little thing that won’t hurt nobody, sworn on the big guy below’s head, and I wing it right now, no questions asked. Deal?"

“And for what reason should I bless one such as you with my trove of knowledge? Would your malformed brain even be able to process it, I wonder.”

"You’re one to talk with that lump on your shoulders,” Vrog’s fiddle tapped the air before Abanoc’s nose, "But I said a little thing, didn’t I? I’ll manage. If it goes right, maybe you won’t have to see this my face you hate so much around for a bit.” He swept the bow in a peremptory line. "At all. That good enough?”

Abanoc let out a sigh. “Very well, I shall at least lend you an ear. What knowledge do you seek?”

The bow spun around a finger like a theatrically twisted cane. "Which one of you godly bunch was K’nell the chummiest with?”

“And just what would you do with that knowledge?”

"Go and reminisce a bit, you know, maybe over a couple glasses. Smell out if there’s any, whattacallem, keepsakes left too. My boss got something left hanging with the scrapper, and he’ll be slagged mad till it’s closed somehow.”

Abanoc pondered for a long moment, trying to imagine the repercussions of what Vrog would do with that knowledge. The god in question was Shengshi and from what Abanoc knew he and Vrog’s master were in good terms. Plus it meant less direct meddling from Abanoc’s part to have the Avatar leave peacefully. “That would be Shengshi, god of Rivers.”

"Scumspitted grand! He’ll be sure to get the glasses!” Vrog gave a brief arpeggio from his viola, and it was as though it had never been there. "Feel it, not hard to keep a deal, innit? That’s it, gutheads,” the latter was addressed to the pigguts on the monster’s back, who had been grunting profanities throughout the conversation, "we’re off! Lightspitter, keep them numbers straight.” The lamphead dutifully scratched down with its stylus-hand the quantity of imps that had taken advantage of the altercation to slip off into the forest, even as it was snatched up by a coiling tongue.

In two bounds, Vrog was on top of the beast’s spined neck. A few loud clanging taps later, the enormous wings unfurled, toppling some more trees at the clearing’s edges, and started to beat with heavy cracks. The gale raised by them swept up a hurricane of dry leaves and wooden debris into the group’s faces. By the time their sight cleared, the giant was one more dark spot against the evening sky, and soon it disappeared behind a ragged low cloud.

Karamir wasted no time in gently setting Arya down against a nearby tree. Then his weapon was a dagger once more and he sheathed it. “Thank you for that,” he called up to the strangers, “But who are you?”

“I am Abanoc, god of Recording. We have met before, Karamir; I taught you how to wield mana. But I know of what befell you. I came here to undo the damage in your mind and soul.”

“You... you have?” he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise as his posture relaxed. He breathed a sigh of relief. “How? What do you need to do?”

“Let us return to your cottage first. I will need help from an Avatar of my own to aid you.”

Karamir nodded. “Alright.” he picked Arya back up. “It’s this way, I think,” and with those words he took flight, at a pace that Abanoc could follow.



Upon returning to the house, Karamir wasted no time. He took Arya upstairs and placed her on her bed, were in her armor vanished into mist, revealing a slight pink coloration where she had been hit on her head. Then, he went back downstairs, by the table where he and Arya had eaten food less than an hour ago, and looked to Abanoc and Mnemosyne with an uncertain expression.

“Before I had my soul decayed…” he said nervously, “Laurien said you were letting me die.”

“In a sense, regrettably. Me not intervening was due to my function as an observer. I could not stand it, however, and went out of my way to come and at least recover your mind and soul.”

“I see…” he said slowly. “Well, thank you for arriving when you did, at least.”

“Now then, let us begin.” Abanoc approached Karamir and laid a hand on his chest. He had learned much about how souls functioned in Galbar through observing Katharsos and the other gods. Thanks to that knowledge Abanoc could tell the state in which Karamir’s soul was.

It was falling apart, Its glow fading like a candle nearing its end. The cause, naturally, being Laurien’s meddling. Abanoc focused his energies on Karamir’s soul and removed the ailment. For Karamir, it felt as though a hundred shattered fragments within him were pulling themselves back together. The emptiness he had once felt but couldn’t quite explain was suddenly filled.

“That should do it.” Abanoc said pulling away from Karamir. “It could take a while longer for you to fully recover, but your should will not decay any further.”

Karamir blinked in astonishment. “I… thank you… but what about my memories? It’s still… things are still missing. I thought repairing my soul would fix that...”

“Mnemosyne.”

“Yes, Master.” This time the muse approached Karamir and held his head gently from the sides. Delving into Karamir’s mind, she could see his memories broken and mixed up like a puzzle put together in the wrong way with pieces still missing. She analysed the proper flow of events in short notice and rearranged them accordingly. Her specialty being memories this took less than a minute.

“Your memories should be organised. Can you remember the Master now?”

Karamir’s mind felt more alert and more clear than it had ever been, as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep and been struck by a dozen epiphanies at once. He took a step back, needing time to process everything as memories flashed before his eyes. A hand fell to the table to steady himself. “I can…” he said after several long moments had passed. “Everything… it all makes sense now.”

He sat down into a chair and brought a hand to his forehead. “Thank you, Abanoc,” he managed, once the tide of information had begun to subside. ”You too, Nem… Mnemosyne.”

“You are welcome.” Abanoc said with a faint smile on his face.

“The pleasure was mine. I hope you have an easier time now. Those fifty-seven years were harsh on you.” Had she any eyes one could see the concern in her face. Instead only a warm smile could be seen.

Karamir’s winced slightly, as he suddenly became conscious of the fact that a complete stranger had just peered into the entirety of his memory. ”I have no intention of putting myself in that position again” he said, keeping his voice even, but his discomfort was clear.

“I believe we are finished here.”

"Wait,” Karamir said, concern suddenly etched across his face. ”What of Arya? Will she be alright?”

“Vrog seems to have laid a curse upon her. I have not seen the full effects it has on her, but her life is not in any immediate danger. If I were to study it further I would likely be able to break it, but my time is running short.”

”Running short? What do you mean?”

“Although my Observatory is equipped to register information of Galbar on its own, I am required to stay there and fulfil my role. I said this before, but I should not involve myself as much as I did on this night.”

”Oh, I see.” Karamir said. ”Alright. Thank you again for your help, but… if you don’t mind, can you visit you again at some point in the future? There are some questions I might need to ask.”

“You are free to do so. I look forward to your visit.” Abanoc stood up to leave and Mnemosyne followed. “Farewell for now, Karamir.”

“Make sure to take good care of Arya, okay?”

Karamir felt a flash of guilt as he recalled his earlier attitude toward her. It was as if he had been an entirely different person. ”Yes… I owe her that much.”




In Divinus: The God RP, Mk. III. Finished in Record Time™! → 5 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Kalmar's Chosen



Progress on the makeshift village at the Oracle was coming along nicely. For days they had tried to erect crude shelters, and after many designs, they had finally found some that worked. A number of these shelters had already been constructed around the temple, and while they were easy for a single animal to knock down, they kept out the wind and rain well enough.

It was a great help, too, because others had begun to arrive in the village. Some were taken in, but others had to be turned away - the simple reality was that there were only so many people to feed. Still, they did their best to help those they did not take in, either in the form of directions, or the gift of a small amount of supplies. Valys felt a twinge of guilt, not entirely certain that meager help would be enough, but unfortunately they all had to face the reality of the situation.

One day, when Ewen and his hunters had brought down a particularly bountiful hall, Valys and her subordinates sat by a fire discussing what comes next.

"What do you mean what comes next?" Myla asked. "We keep ourselves fed so we can continue protecting the place. I thought was all there was to it?"

Karlyn frowned. "She means what do we build next," he said with a shake of his head. "There could be better ways to survive than what we have now. Sturdier shelters, smarter hunting tactics, new sources of food or water... we just need to think of them."

"Well," Lena began, "maybe we could-" but she couldn't finish her sentence. Her eyes widened, and she pointed up to the sky.

"Kalmar's beard..." muttered Karlyn in awe and horror.

Valys followed the gaze, and in the sky she saw hundreds of meteors. The camp fell silent, as everyone else had taken notice, and all they could do was stare... until Valys snapped them out of it. "Chosen!" she shouted, bringing everyone to attention. "Into the Temple!"


Forgeguard



"It was just a fight. You shouldn't let it get to you," Frea said soothingly.

"That fool Leske 'ought to learn respect," Ivar grumbled. The two sat on the plateau edge, overlooking the sea.

"You were friends once, you know," Frea reminded him. "And we're supposed to protect this place. How can we do that if you can't trust each other?"

"Aye, that's true enough," Ivar agreed, "but trust goes both ways, and he hasn't done a damn thing to earn mine back. It's more than just the fight, you know. I've seen him staring at the Forbidden Cage, the thing Kalmar told us not to use and trusted us to guard."

Frea frowned. The Forbidden Cage had indeed sparked curiosity from Leske, but he was not the only one; many others had been puzzled or fascinated about it, and they had given it similar glances. Rald was one such example. The Cage had since been moved to the top of the central tower, now known as the Winter Spire, and always had three guards watching over it. "Listen," she said, dropping the soothing tone. "You are the two best fighters from your tribe. Dozens of those tools have been created, and soon some will eventually come to claim them. We need you both. One way or another, you have to work it out, and it's your job to figure out how."

And with those words, Frea rose and walked away. Ivar was about to call something after her, but thought better of it. She was right, he knew. It was time to make amends.

By the time he had risen to his feet and stretched, however, the meteors had begun to fall. He stared on with a look of surprise, having never seen something like this before, and then turned back to the Frozen Citadel. "We're in danger!" he shouted as he began to run.





© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet