Kho

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

Three posts at once?



_{(Is still on page 17)}

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

The Great Artisan, Divine Mason, Builder of Civilisations
Level 5 God of Crafting (Masonry, Carpentry, Smithing, Alchemy, Armaments)
28.75 Might & 2 Free Point

&



Level 7 Dormant-Goddess of Magic (Pacts)
Might: 50
Free Points: 11
Concelmeant/Detection: 10

Summary

THE EVENTS OF THIS POST OCCUR BEFORE THE REALTA INVASION.

Disguised as a mere man, Teknall journies towards the glorious city of Vetros.
Arriving in the city, he seeks out the nearest metalsmith and asks him to repair his chisel.
Noticing the backwardness of Vetruvian smithing techniques relative to other civilisations, Teknall instils subtle inspiration into the smith's mind to help Vetruvians develop new and better techniques.
He observes Vetruvian soldiers, the Priest-King's palace and eventually arrives in the Temple District where, of all the temples, the Temple of the Bond strikes him as a true boon to civilisation. And so he decides to pay it a visit.

Yara detects Teknall's presence and, Gadar at her side, goes forth to meet him. For some odd reason, Gadar knows immediately that Teknall is a god o.o
After a brief conversation, they lead Teknall - who introduces himself as Harun - to the Temple Library to look at the library's collection of works on construction.
After seeing the collection and noting the Temple's educational activities, Teknall proposes that the Temple expands its curriculum, or begin a new initiative altogether, aimed at teaching things like masonry, construction and so on.
Yara considers this but makes clear that it is not possible for various reasons, chief being the lack of expertise in this area at the Temple itself.

After a while, Teknall finally gets a good look at a book Yara had copied and immediately recognises her handwriting as being identical to that of Belruarc on the Codex of Creation. The two then engage in a long back and forth, Teknall unveiling that he knows who she is, and Yara pleading ignorance at first and then indulging Teknall's 'interesting fantasies'.
However, when Teknall mentions the many gods who have met their demise or somehow disappeared, Yara is rather shaken and abruptly ends their meeting. Gadar shows him out of the Temple but promises to bring up the matter of teaching trades and crafts with her.

Later that night, Yara enters her room to find that Teknall had left her a small gift - a flowerpot filled with forget-me-nots. That, and Gadar's jokes, seem to immediately bring a degree of happiness to her once more.

The sun shimmered off the surface of the Mahd and its heat was cast over the dunes of the Firewind. The river valley was an oasis in its own right, the silty soil covered with green grass and desert wildflowers and shaded by the branches of acacia trees. A well-worn path ran along the top of the bank of the Mahd. Along this road walked a couple of camels burdened with sacks of wheat and barley, and a traveller with dusty clothes and a leather bag also walked the trail. Across the Mahd were floodplains in which farmers worked, planting crops in the fertile silty soil, and fishermen cast their nets into the river to catch fish.

Although none could possibly tell, the traveller was no mere man, but a god. Yet for now he walked as a man and observed the unaware Vetruvians. His first observation was their agriculture. It's a good start. The fertile silt-plains of the Mahd River Valley are excellent for farming. Their methods are still a bit primitive and will need a boost if they want to sustainably support a higher population. Irrigation would be a good start.

A boat sailed down the Mahd, swiftly slicing through the water as it was propelled by a team of oremen, carrying a merchant's cargo to villages downstream. Teknall turned his head to watch it pass. Astonishing. Not even Alefpria has boats that good. Someone must have taught them.

Soon the greenery of the Mahd gave way to clusters of mud-brick houses. People bustled along the alleys and streets. Teknall felt quite comfortable amidst the bustle of people, the lifeblood of Civilisation. He made his way through the market district to a metalsmith. Inside was a man standing by a furnace pouring molten bronze into a cast. Teknall addressed the smith. "Hello."

The smith looked up from his work. "Give me a few moments." He finished pouring the bronze, set the mould aside, put down his tools and headed over to Teknall. "How may I help you?"

"I have something I'd like you to fix." From some folds of leather Teknall pulled out a worn bronze chisel. "My chisel has become quite blunt. Could you repair it?"

The smith took the chisel and looked at it closely. "I should be able to do that."

He nodded to his apprentice, who pumped the bellows and stoked the furnace. The smith heated the end of the chisel, then hammered it, reforging the tip. Teknall stood and watched, observing the smith's technique, as well as the tools and techniques available to the smith. Metalworking is still a new technology here. Techniques are still a bit crude. Furnaces aren't nearly hot enough to smelt iron yet. Their alloy of bronze is not yet optimised. Actually... With a subtle wave of his hand, Teknall imprinted into the smith's subconscious mind the ideas which would lead to a few improvements: good ratios of bronze and brass, the difference between quenching, annealing and tempering, and a few potential smithing techniques and tools. None of these ideas manifested immediately, but would slowly emerge and subconsciously direct future work.

Done hammering the chisel, the smith plunged the red-hot metal into a bucket of water and quenched it. He then returned the chisel to Teknall. "There, good as new."

Teknall took the chisel and returned it to its leather pouch. "Ah, thank you." He then took out a flask of olive oil. "Will this be adequate payment?"

The smith opened the stopper, smelled it, and tasted a drop of the oil. "That will do. Thank you. Come by again if you need any more work done."

Teknall nodded and walked out the doorway back to the streets of Vetros. Vetros is getting big enough to have some form of currency. That would be more efficient than bartering. Once the mines get some more gold and silver into circulation those commodities can be used to standardise the unit of trade.

His walking took him out of the merchant district and into the upper-class district. There he passed the training grounds for the Vetruvian army, where he saw a platoon of cloth-clad spearmen running drills and practising formations. A sergeant paced in front of the platoon barking orders, a bronze sword by his side - a sign of wealth and status, especially compared to the stone spears wielded by the rank and file. Also in the grounds were a few wooden boards peppered with arrow holes. Weaponry is mediocre, but adequate. Metal weapons are rare. Spears are in common use, as they should be. I expect a gradual transition to more metal weapons over time, although I see little reason to hasten the development of Vetruvian warfare.

Continuing his walk, Teknall soon passed the palace. It was, naturally, one of the grander buildings in Vetros, along with some of the temples, and was likely to grow in grandeur as Vetros became richer. While ordinary citizens were not permitted to simply walk into the palace, the residence of the Priest-King of Vetros, Teknall did not need to enter the building to see inside. Priest-King Akthanos, head of the chosen bloodline of Zephyrion (a dynasty of chosen mortals- that's an idea), ruler of Vetros, and wielder of the King's Law, the most powerful artefact in mortal hands and rivalling most other divine artefacts too. Conspicuously, the King's Law is missing. This is troubling. One does not want to misplace an object of such power.

Teknall continued his walking until he reached the temple district. The temples were grand buildings, for the Vetruvians were a devout people. What was peculiar was that these temples were all dedicated, in some way, to Zephyrion. The Vetruvians were quasi-monotheistic; they believed that other gods existed, but only Zephyrion, the Master and Eternal Sky, was deemed worthy of worship. So rather than have temples dedicated to different gods, as was the case in Xerxes, Alefpria or Rulanah, the Vetruvians had temples dedicated to different functions in society, and also different philosophies and ideologies surrounding the Vetruvian faith (with as much variation as could be permitted under the Priest-King's guidance, that is).

Yet among these temples, one stood out from the rest to Teknall. One had only a tenuous link to Zephyrion. One served the community through medicine and education. One held a school to teach children and a library to store knowledge. One was a great boon to Civilisation.

The Temple of the Bond.

Teknall ascended the steps and walked inside.

The Grounds of the Temple of the Bond

Sat where she was in a circle of students, Yara had sensed the arrival of Teknall even before he had properly set foot into Vetros itself. The last time she had sensed a creature laced with divine energies was when that slithering Jvanic being had come and...savaged those people. There had also been - not too long ago - that incident witnessed by a great number of the people (and felt by Yara even though she had not dared leave the protective walls of the Temple). Those who saw it said it was a flying mountain. Yara knew, however, that it could not have been any other than her fleshly sister. She had wondered momentarily what was happening up there in the world of the gods but had swiftly let her wondering cease, for the answer was always simple: nothing good.

And now there was a god at her doorstep - and an enemy of Vowzra too. She did not know what to make of her mysterious brother, but Vowzra had - in his own strange way - attempted to be kind to her, and so those who wished him ill (and who had, in fact, harmed him!) were certainly not looked upon kindly by her. She remembered well Teknall's passionate defence of Jvan before the Vicegerent was killed. She admitted that she understood little of what the Vicegerent had been raving on about - but he had not deserved death. Who knew, maybe Teknall - having destroyed Vestec's creation as well as Vowzra's avatar - now came for her. The thought sprung into her mind rather unbidden and was quickly dismissed - that was ludicrous. But they had killed before... shaking her head, she rose slowly.

'Sister Olakhat, I must go. Please, continue in my place.' The fact that Teknall had not made right for the school meant that he was not actually looking for her...that, or he did not know she was here. As she walked out of the school, she found Gadar waiting for her.
'There is a god in the Great Chamber,' he said. Yara froze and looked at him hesitantly for a few moments.
'Um...G-Gadar, how did you-'
'You are not planning to go to it, are you?' Frowning still and eyeing her husband, she shrugged.
'I don't think he knows I'm here...'
'Or it knows you are here, and knows that you know it is here.'
'By all things- will you stop calling him "it"?' She snapped as she began to walk towards the Great Hall.
'Well, it doesn't have a fixed sex, so calling it anything other than it would be inacc-' he stopped talking when she gave him that mischevious glance of hers. 'What are you thinking?' he asked, his scarred face breaking out into a small smile. But she said nothing and, with a small laugh, moved lithely ahead and quickly began ascending the Temple Stairs. Quick though she was, Gadar's tremendous body outpaced her, and she remained in his protective shadow as they entered the Great Chamber.

'Hello,' Gadar hailed the god while keeping his distance (not that such could have protected him had Teknall wished him harm), 'I don't think I've seen you around here before. If you are searching for the prayer hall it is just ahead and to your right.'

Teknall turned to look at Gadar. "Hello," he hailed in return. "I'm from out of town. I came here because I've heard that this temple is a place of knowledge and learning. I came to see it with my own eyes, and perhaps see what I could learn. Would you be able to help?" Gadar glanced at Yara who, after a nod and a brief smile, stepped forward.
'Yes, this is just such a place as you describe, though admittedly we have never had anyone come to us in pursuit of knowledge as you have - other than the children, that is, and the priestesses who have dedicated their lives to the Temple. But we are not ones to turn away those in pursuit of learning. Are you in search of...any particular information? If you are, perhaps the Temple Library holds something that may be of use to you.'

Teknall smiled at Yara. "Ah, the Library. That sounds like the right place. You wouldn't happen to have anything on construction or masonry, would you?"
Yara raised an eyebrow, remembering the reaction of one Priest-King to the library's proud collection on construction. He had seemed far from impressed. 'Yes, this way please,' she said and led the way. 'We do have some tidbits on masonry and construction. They are admittedly not exactly contemporary manuals though. We hold on to them for archival reasons - protecting Vetruvian heritage and ensuring we have a documented history of developments in the various areas of Vetruvian life. These matters are easily lost, I find. It was by pure good luck that I came across some of the works on construction and masonry - and they were certainly not in the best condition. It took us a good bit of time, but many have been copied to a good standard. We will have to work on our more up-to-date collection in time, but for now, it is the old works that are of more immediate interest to us. But do pardon me, I ramble.' She took a sudden right into a rather small hallway and they found themselves very suddenly in the large library.

Making her way to a nearby shelf, she scanned the various codices and scrolls on it for a few moments before picking one up and moving along. She eventually placed some three scrolls and the codex on a table and gestured to the stranger. She realised that, though she knew he was Teknall, they had not yet been formally introduced. 'Sorry, I think I got so caught up in getting you to the library that I never introduced myself,' she smiled sheepishly before continuing, 'I'm Yara, and this is my husband, Gadar. And you are?'

"I'm Harun," Teknall replied, "Nice to meet you."

'Harun...' Yara murmured thoughtfully. 'So, Harun, this scroll here concerns early Vetruvian construction methods, most likely a manual at some point. It is highly outdated, but there are some aspects of it that are surprisingly advanced and, strangely enough, seem to have been abandoned by the people of Vetros. Why this is so, I can't say. The other two scrolls are more or less the same, though the originals were in such a bad state that I'm certain they come from an earlier period. As for the codex, it is the closest thing we have to a contemporary work on construction. It was written by Priest Harukin who, in his youth, worked in construction. The book is not purely a manual, it is semiautobiographical really, but in it the Priest discusses in detail things like brick-making, the manner in which they went about mixing clay, and much else. Keep in mind that the Priest has been dead now some fifty floodings.'

Teknall stood over the texts and scanned his finger over the words. As Galbarian civilisations go, Vetros has pretty decent buildings. These texts refer to techniques almost a century old, at least, although it is not as if progress was rapid. I can tell that not too much has advanced. Although it seems that some of the finer points are not remembered too well.

"To be honest, I'm surprised you had anything on this topic at all. It is a most interesting look into the past. Most of the teaching I and other tradesmen had was from what our masters showed us during our apprenticeships. I suppose that if something doesn't get practised for a while or very widely, it gets forgotten, and if someone finds something new, it spreads very slowly." Teknall paused for a moment. "You teach children here things like reading and history and anatomy. Have you considered perhaps teaching things like construction and smithing and things like that? Maybe not here, but have some centralised location for teaching these skills, such that all the expertise can be funnelled into a single location, and some of these more advanced pieces of knowledge will be retained, and perhaps new techniques proliferated."

Yara considered Teknall's words for a few moments before shaking her head.
'Neither I nor my priestesses are qualified to teach these kinds of skills. At best, we can make the content of these books available to those already proficient in the field and help them explore these old techniques - if these craftsmen would accept advice from a Temple on such matters in the first place. But the Temple of the Bond itself does not have the resources or craftsmen to create anything like this centralised location at the present time, much as it interests me.' Yara said it as she gently opened the codex containing Priest Harukin's works. This one had been copied out by her from cover to cover and contained some rather beautiful illustrations which she had painstakingly toiled over for weeks on end. 'If only there was someone like Priest Harukin. He would certainly have been able to do something like what you say.'

"We can dream, I suppose, and keep an eye out for opportunities," Teknall replied before turning his attention to the book in front of him. When he saw the hand-written words, he paused, and his brow furrowed. Teknall appeared to be in deep thought for a few seconds, then he turned to Yara and inquired, "Who wrote this copy?"

'I did,' Yara said, smiling. She was clearly quite proud of this one. Seeing Teknall's furrowed brows, however, she could not help but feel that something was wrong. 'Why, do you ask?'

"I recognise this handwriting," he said. Teknall's mouth curled into a knowing grin. "It has been a long, long, long time." Yara looked from Teknall to Gadar and then back to Teknall.
'You...recognise my handwriting?' she asked with a calculated slowness, 'that's very interesting. I would love to know where you think you saw it before - I can assure you that no work of mine has made it outside the Temple. Am I to understand it that I have an imitator?' she ended her words with a degree of humour, her eyes twinkling slightly with silent laughter.

The smile didn't leave Teknall's face. "I saw it in a very special Codex coauthored by about twenty powerful people a very long time ago." Yara raised an eyebrow at this and the humorous glimmer faded slightly.
'Oh really? Twenty powerful people a long time ago writing up Codices? This sounds like a rather nice story, please do tell us what you saw.' She looked back at Gadar as impassively as she could manage, before looking back to Teknall.

"Just one Codex, although at one point people called it a Blueprint. Written within were a lot of very fundamental things. One of the authors was an expert in deals and Pacts, and wrote extensively about a form of magic designed for scholars and thinkers." Yara cleared her throat and nodded quickly, dropping a 'wow' or 'fascinating' here and there while her eyes shifted rapidly from Gadar to Teknall.
'A Blueprint, you say. A Blueprint for magic and other "fundamental" things... would I be right in understanding that you think the world came about when twenty people got together and wrote a book? I don't think you're from around here, are you? Where'd you get these ideas, hmm?' Despite her attempt to play it cool, it was clear that she was not quite as unperturbed as she attempted to seem.

"I was there." Teknall leaned forwards slightly. "We were there." A few moments of silence followed Teknall's fateful words... and then Yara chuckled and shook her head.
'Yeah, uh,' she laughed nervously, 'that sounds...amazing. It really does. You should...uh, write about it. Definitely,' she paused for a few moments and quickly composed herself before continuing, 'I would actually be very happy to oblige this fantasy of yours, if you like, as you write it all down. I'm sure it will prove an invaluable addition to our section on variations in beliefs and founding legends across Vetros - a book by a god is not to be passed up. Like, for instance, what were your additions to this "Codex"? In fact, you really need to tell me all about this. Come, sit sit. I'll write.'

Teknall sat down. "I'm sure you know how it went almost as well as I do, but I'll talk anyway. I procured the parchment and wrote about the metals of the ground, among other things. But I'm more interested in what happened next. The woman of Pacts went missing shortly after the writing, and none of us heard from her again. Most of the authors went on to make wondrous things, some fought among each other and were killed," Teknall's smile dimmed at this phrase, but perked back up as he continued, "but still there was no word from their absent sister. Save for a strange artefact embedded in a tree up north, that is. Although, perhaps, she had disguised herself as a human, found a city where her siblings rarely went, and started some kind of... institution. One which promotes knowledge and study. One where Pacts of miraculous power are struck. Yet still she hides. Why?" Though her hand shook slightly, the fact that she was busying herself with writing meant that Yara's nervousness at having been so easily discovered did not show.
'I cannot really say why - but for the sake of indulging you...' she paused for a few moments, 'from the very little you have told me about these fellows. You say she went missing - you say it as though it was her that did it. Have you paused to consider that maybe she did not go missing, but that the others just...forgot her. Why would anyone want to return to those who forgot them?' She paused and placed a finger on her chin, 'but who am I to really say, you've really not given me much to go on here.' She managed the slightest nervous chuckle.

Teknall's expression became sombre. "Perhaps they had mostly forgotten her, which is saddening. Although, one of them did make her a flower. Her absence was subtle, and her disappearance unannounced. She was also not the only one who had vanished, who had faded into the background and stepped away from the world stage. Yet one does not get forgotten while they are still in view. Something happened to hide her away, and I don't know what. Regardless, I'm sure they would welcome her back if she were to let them know she was still alive." Yara frowned and considered Teknall for a few moments.
'I...uh, your story, this cosmology of yours, very interesting. What do you mean when you say "vanished"? What happened- happens to these twenty?' There was a small pit of dread in her stomach, and a part of her did not truly want to know. But the question had been posed, and for better or worse she was about to find out.

Teknall frowned and steepled his fingers. "The Trickster, Adversary and Shadow have gone absent without known cause, their fates unknown. The man of War has also gone quiet recently. The King of Order is alive, but has departed for a distant place. The Gale has been banished to elsewhere, although should return at some point. The woman of the Mind perished under presently unclear circumstances. The man of Death was killed when he fought Chaos. And the man of Time was killed by the Engineer of Flesh." Yara stared at the other god in silence at this revelation, her eyes wide and face suddenly very pale. In her shock she momentarily forgot how to breathe, but eventually took a quick breath and licked her suddenly very dry lips.
'Th-that's- I. Perhaps this woman of the Pacts with whom you are confusing me had the right idea,' she said with a shaking voice. She pushed the parchment she had been scribbling on away with a trembling hand and got up. 'I think - I mean, it's been very...nice, speaking with you - but I think you should go.' She was gripping her hands and fiddling with her fingers as though struggling to hold something back. 'I think you should go now. Gadar, please sho- show him...' and without even finishing her sentence she turned and left the library, leaving Gadar and Teknall alone together. The scarred man looked at Teknall with clear suspicion, but he was far better than Yara at concealing what lay behind his face and eye.
'Unless you seek after anything more, I can show you the way out.'

Teknall looked sadly where Yara had departed. He rose to his feet. "I think I shall go." As they started to leave, Teknall added, "I was serious about that school. Do let her know that." Gadar nodded in response.
'I will speak to her of it. If she agrees, how can we find you?'

Teknall thought for a moment. "I will be keeping an eye on any opportunities which might arise. If she wishes to speak to me, then she knows who to call." Gadar gave the other man a sidelong glance with his one good eye and shrugged slightly.
'If you say so.' And arriving at the Temple Arch he turned and extended a hand, 'until we meet again, Harun.'

Teknall took the hand and shook it. "Yes, until we meet again, Gadar."

Having made their farewells, Teknall turned and walked off, disappearing into the streets of people.

---

That evening, as Yara entered her bedroom, she found a new object sitting on her windowsill. It was a clay pot, filled with dirt with flowers planted in it. The flowers were forget-me-nots. When she inspected it more closely, she found engraved on the inner rim of the flower pot the words 'From Teknall'. Pursing her lips, she placed a finger on the words and looked more closely at the flowers, as though feeling the ingrained name would help her better understand. He had asked her why, but with his gift in her arms and staring out into the moonlit night and the star-strewn sky, it was only her that wondered why. Whatever the reason, though, there was no doubt in her mind that this here was an act of kindness.
'What's that you have there?' Gadar's voice came. She turned to him with a broad smile.
'Just some flowers,' she said, and moved away from the windowsill. Gadar looked from the flowers on the windowsill to the single rose on her desk and frowned slightly.
'Shall I bring a few palm trees in too?'
'Don't be silly,' she reprimanded him, 'one will do!' And, chuckling, the two of them prepared for bed.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

@Cyclone

Aihtiraq: MAKE A WISH!
Tira: sjdodk dkke dpvpcl (Stand on your head and flip three times)
Tira: sorrow cfndejdnq (Then get me lunch)

I have a feeling this could actually work, since they're both just wanderers looking for interaction at this point. Also, realistically she'll need some help making it to New Chronos.

Anyone else heading there lately? @Kho maybe the Bard's hanging around?

@Antarctic Termite

Yeah, the Bard would be up there still. Unsure where in the Timeline New Chronos is though.
...
Heh.
... New Chronos, timeline.

Need to get to my collab with BBeast, and I'm suddenly feeling like doing something with the Eskandars.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

@BBeast I can't remember ever picturing him as a human. I probably did before the hain were created, but he went about as a hain for so long that now he's forever a hain in my mind. A normal looking hain as far as hain go.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

Summary

This post occurs: 0 years Post Realta
Shaqmar and Layla need to be cremated so the Azad can select a new Qa'id Adheem
But it appears that Surayka has donned the traditional red and black dress of a widow seeking justice for her departed husband (and tradition has it that God gets very angry and punishes those who cause widows to don the red and black) -
and so long as she grives for Shaqmar, he cannot be cremated.
The Azad elders attempt to persuade Surayka's father to convince her to remove the red and black.
He refuses and advises them to cremate Layla and Shaqmar despite Surayka still wearing the red and black.
They do so, and one thousand horses are sacrificed at Layla and Shaqmar's cremation. Layl is amongst those horses.
The people enter their tents for the entire day so as to give the spirits of the dead time to rise to heaven.
When night falls, dread grips Surayka who emerges from her tent.
She looks up to the heavens and finds that the stars are falling (i.e. The Realta invasion).
It seems that yet again God will punish those who made a widow grieve.

It haunted the camp by night, a creature of silence, darkness, and wispy blood. Wherever it marched, there came with it despair and grief, and the guards would back off or look away from the manifestation of misery. It had haunted the Azad camp ever since the pyre had been built for Shaqmar and Layla, and they could not proceed with the cremation of the Qa'id Adheem and his beloved until the black- and red-clad creature made peace with its grief. Dressing thus and haunting the moon-stalked nights was a grieving custom for widows whose men had met with particularly abnormal deaths - except that Shaqmar had not left behind a widow, nor had he willed that he should live to be a widower.

And yet, these Azad nights were haunted by the forgotten-left-behinds, they were stalked by the red-black terror that wailed in silence and gave all a reason to flinch away though it did not so much as move to strike. No, it was not so much the mourning Surayka that they feared, but a weeping widow - for all knew that the Eternal Sky itself shook and trembled, and grew furious and vengeful, at the cries of a widow who thought herself oppressed. Woe! Woe to you, oh widowmakers!
None forgot the fate of Jurhama's killers, upon whom fell the anger of that ancient rider's widow. She had donned the red and black and would see no living being for days - even weeks - until the Eternal Sky was so moved by her misery that it brought forth from the north a creature pulsating with red fury and vengeance. It was an ant-like creature larger than any man, easily able to overpower even the most stubborn and fearsome stallions. Jurhama's killers had nowhere to hide, and they could not hope to outpace the screeching terror brought forth by the Eternal Sky. With her husband so avenged, Jurhama's widow - whose name, carried from one Rukban generation to the next, was Ariha - removed the red and black. The strange creature did not remain in Rukbany long thereafter, leaving for the south. But Ariha became in her own time a much respected and feared shamaness, with most shamans tracing back their lineage in some way to her. And so, Surayka's donning of the red and black was rightly reason for great fear and anxiety.

The elders of the Azad met repeatedly over the days following her having donned it, pressing her old father to speak with her during the day and have her return to reason - she was not Shaqmar's widow, after all, she had no right to don the red and black at his death. The old Ja'ikae had watched silently the growth of his daughter's affections for her Shaqmar from the dawn of her days. And in those early days, he had thought it the natural progression of things that Shaqmar should one day accept her into his life, and dedicate some of his days and some of his nights to her in exchange for the years and days and nights she dedicated to none but him. Even when Layla stole Shaqmar's eyes and tongue and heart, and all his days and nights and sighs, he had thought it would not be too long before he turned his eyes on Surayka and allowed her some of the happiness and joy that all humans were, in their short time in this world, entitled to. But Surayka's lot, more so than anyone, was silent sadness and pain, silent heartache, silent self-sacrifice.

'Let the woman grieve, for by the Eternal Sky she has been Shaqmar's widow long before he died.' Old Ja'ikae told them.
'But what of the pyre? We cannot leave Shaqmar and Layla like this for much longer, the Azad cannot go without a Qa'id Adheem much longer.'
'Then do not wait on her to remove the red and black. Light up the pyre, give your allegiance to a new Qa'id Adheem, and let the widow grieve long as she needs,' Ja'ikae told them. The elders looked around uncertainly. They knew the traditions well, a man could not be cremated so long as a woman donned the red and black for him, and a new Qa'id Adheem could not arise before the previous one had been cremated. But Ja'ikae's words, for whatever reason, seemed to have weight among them and they eventually came to a consensus in alignment with his suggestion.

And so on a night dark as the deed that released into the abyss the souls of Layla and Shaqmar, the people were gathered and the flames were lit, and the silent Surayka stalked forth with Layl behind her. The black stallion had seemed but a mere shade of himself since his rider's passing; his fabled power and the lethal spark that had in bygone times caused men and equines alike to fall before him in worship and awe was all but gone. His noble head was now brought low, his eyes downcast, his hooves dragging, his once untameable black mane had waned. Was this the steed known by the deserts and night, by Rukbany's mounted men? Was this the stallion feared by sword and spear, and even by the pen? No, Layl had withered into the night the very moment the untrue blade had made in his rider's chest a home.

And the women loosed their hair and wailed, and they struck at their chests and thighs, and the men gurgled and growled their grief-song, and they struck at the ground with their feet even as the women struck their heads and chests and ripped at their hair and swayed their heads back and forth so that their hair flew now this way and now that way in a mesmerising letting loose of pure emotion. The wails and the growls, the thumping of earth and the striking of human flesh, the neighs of horses brought forth to the slaughter. It was a night of terrible grief, of great blood-spilling; a farewell worthy of the Qa'id Adheem. And when the moment was upon them and the deed was done, Surayka lit up the pyre and the thousand slain horses; and the burning of horse flesh and the smoke and the flames and the blaze and- GOD! She fell to her knees before the blaze and stared at it. She did not wail like the women wailed and she did not growl and moan like the men moaned. She was silent, her grief raging in a silent pit unseen in the depths of her heart.

And she remained there, watching the great firestorm light up the night until it seemed like the sun had risen from the earth and all was day. And the smoke rose up, and the men moaned, and the women wailed, and Surayka silent remained, until the one true sun rose on the tired horizon and all departed for their roundtents that they may rest and allow the spirits of the departed to rise in peace. And Surayka likewise rose and, though she little knew what she was doing or where she was or what she was or why she was, found her way to her lonely roundtent and collapsed therein and held back a sob. But she let out a moan and spoke, and a single tear became trapped in her black lashes.

Peace to the world and all on it, for it is not peace
If the heartstrings of your life are cleft from the heartstrings of mine

It is as though we were created in error and it is as though
It was forbidden upon the world that we should be united

I collected the memories of yesterday's meeting in my lashes,
And I went reigniting them, one by one, on the tired horizons.

There are none so confused as I: the eye runs wet and dry,
Weeping and laughing in the depths of my secret heart...

I forgot from his hand to take back my hand,
Lost my very mind after a brief kiss.

There are none so confused as I: I collapse exhausted
Behind the curtains of my roundtent in illness and heartache.

I love this love if it comes to visit us with its fragrance
Oh perfumes make your nest at the door and spill everywhere.

And she remained there until the risen sun returned into the earth and all was darkness again. And as she lay there, moaning her verses still and thinking of the departed beloved, there gripped her a feeling of intense fear and dread. Climbing to her feet, she approach the door of the roundtent and looked out into the darkness uncertainly. All was silent (bar the neighing of this horse or the moan of this cow), but all seemed well. With a hesitant step, she emerged from the roundtent and was at once struck by the brightness of the heavens. The moving heavens.

Up above her the stars were out and burning with an intensity never before seen. And they were moving at speed and growing in size and - GOD! The heavens were falling. The Eternal Sky itself was descending upon them. And Surayka's silent wail was no longer silent, and her scream caused all to awaken and emerge. And they looked upon the heavens and fell to their knees, and others looked with horror from the heavens to the wailing Surayka.

Once again the tears of a weeping widow had brought about the wrath of the Eternal Sky. Woe to you, oh widowmakers!

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

@Cyclone I changed the spelling of 'EXPUNGED' in the text, but I stupidly named the file 'EXPUNGED'. Now all they have to do is search 'EXPUNGED' and we are undone. We must expunge all mention of 'EXPUNGED' from the internet.

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

@LokiLeo789 Naah, it'll be fine. Ain't no writing competition gonna make me breach Divinus' sacred IC xP they can disqualify me all they like!

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

Two hours till the deadline O.O I've changed the post tremendously - pretty much every name from Y'Vahn to Qulut (who the hell is Qulut? >.>) are changed. I think at this point it really is an entirely different piece. We wouldn't even need to take down our one...right?

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

@Vec EXPUNGED

Mid/High Casual - Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk.II

Guys, I'm thinking of adapting the first Shaqmar post and submitting it to a writing competition. However, that might require us to take the post down for an undefined time period as the competition in question requires that the submitted piece not have been published anywhere beforehand (unless it's a 'personal blog' or 'personal website'). I would have to cut down the post a bit before submitting it to the competition, so it will certainly not be the exact same piece, but large extracts will be the same. We can save the post in a private message that everyone has access to or something of the sort and put it back up whenever.

What are your thoughts on this?