The threat of annihilation loomed over Galbar, total and unrelenting, as the forces of desolation made their march to threaten the very existence of life.
Yet, ten years ago, such matters were beyond the very concept of the mortals that inhabited the planet. One such being was the God-Queen of the Aspasian Tribe, Atmav, the one who defeated the mighty Yimbo in combat so long ago out of result of misunderstanding and bloodlust. While still brutish, and very much a warrior, Atmav’s more feral side had been blunted by the teachings of Damocles, who had taught the woman to rule benevolent over the once frightened Selka. It had taken many years before the Selka were finally at ease with Atmav, despite her initial hostile takeover.
Two generations of Selka had come into the world under her rule, and those who could remember the times in which her hand was not there were either dead or elders close to death. Now, she was seen as a boon to the Selka under her, and a usurper to those that surrounded her, despite her not having any intent to expand past the borders she already had. It was those borders that she guarded with a ferocity known only to the lizards of the north in the Bloodlands.
Now, she was awaiting a meeting with the Ubbo, to speak of the matter of the ever growing threat of large tribes, such as the Hyummin. Met at the very border that she so fiercely guarded day after day to ward off the encroachment those larger tribes would occasionally dare. It was these incursions that urged her to meet with the Ubbo, those forming a coalition to do away with the threats that the larger Grottu and Hyummin posed. Her pale, tall figure stood upon a hill, confident and unyielding as her starlit wings extended to strike a more imposing figure. She was flanked by two other silent Selka, both bearing the marking of Aspasia.
It was not long before the Ubbo Tribe arrived. Their chieftan was a tall, formidable Selka, wiith a bow slung over his shoulder and a sharktooth necklace. Beside him was an older man, who carried himself well despite his age, and behind them were eight warriors. As they ascended the hill, however, most of them seemed uncertain or nervous about the strange alien figure which towered above.
The two leading them, however, appeared undaunted. “I am Chieftan Milos, of the Ubbo Tribe,” their leader introduced himself, stepping forward. “Are you the one who calls herself God-Queen?”
For a moment, the woman merely tilted her head down to acknowledge them for a moment before she spoke, “Yes. I am Atmav, God-Queen of Aspasia.” She reached behind her to pull forward her orvium greatsword, resting it in the sand in front of her as she seemed to look past Milos. “I have heard that Ubbo have been forming a coalition,” she said simply as her eyeless face seemed to inspect those who seemed uncertain of her presence.
“You heard correctly,” Milos nodded. “And many have already joined.” He looked her up and down. “You know, God-Queen is an unusual title… especially when there is no god named Atmav.”
“I have ruled over the Aspasia before you were even a pup and yet I have not aged. I am mightier than any beings that I have encountered, other than the god, Orvus,” her head tilted back to face Milos directly, her words clear and concise, “Compared to your people, it is a fitting title.”
“We’ve met gods,” Milos told her. “You do not compare to them.”
“I was made by a god, directly forged to be superior to many mortals. I know my limitations, but that does not stop me from offering a challenge,” Atmav commented shifting her blade in the sand as an indication.
“I’ve always preferred the bow,” Milos said with a shrug. “And I have no intention of starting a fight over mere titles and words. We aren’t the Grottu. So, back to why we are here…”
Atmav cleared her throat, “Right.”
“The Hyummin have been increasingly bold in their encroachment of our territory. Specifically, the Grottu, but that does not matter. The point is, while I have the capability to match them upon the land myself, I can do little to them in the water. They have been exploiting that fact and I am in need of assistance as my people do not have the number to match them on our own,” Atmav explained, looking to the Selka on her left.
The once silent male stepped forward to speak, “We have had only one skirmish with one of their hunting parties while they attempt to steal from a school of fish that lies within our waters. We are lucky that event did not start a war.”
Milos’s eyebrows rose. “A skirmish?” he asked. “Who attacked first?”
“We did, we had to defend what we need to feed our own,” the Aspasian said.
“How many dead?” came the chieftan’s next question.
“None. Perhaps that was to only reason we managed to avoid open war, though we had many injuries on our side, the last I remember,” came the answer.
“As you can hear, if the Hyummin wish to take our food from us, all they need to do is send more of their hunters. Eventually, we will not be able to contest them at sea,” Atmav said, the aspasian male stepping back.
Milos considered her words in silence. And then, just when he was about to speak, the older Selka spoke up. “Allow us to talk about this in private,” he requested.
“Very well,” Atmav said, drawing her blade from the sand before resting it upon her shoulder. She took a step back as she motioned for the two she was to come to her, turning her back to the Ubbo as she spoke with them.
Milos and his advisor stepped away as well, turning their backs as they put arms around each other’s shoulders, and their voices fell into whispers.
“What is it, Hoshu?”
“She wants to join our pact. Do not allow it.” Hoshu cautioned.
“I’m wary of her myself, but what is your reasoning?” Milos asked.
“She nearly started a war over some fish,” Hoshu pointed out.
“But she says the Hyummin were encroaching on her territory. If that’s true… stealing food is serious. Remember the stories of the famine?”
“I do,” Hoshu nodded, “but we didn’t need to go to war over it, and she doesn’t need to go to war over it now.”
“If the Hyummin keep pushing, then it sounds like war will come anyway. She’ll lose, they’ll take her land, she’ll be driven into ours, we’ll have more mouths to feed, and then they’ll come for us next,” Milos argued. “The entire point of this pact was so they can’t push us around like that.”
“You don’t know a war will come,” Hoshu insisted, “and if it does, she might be the one who drags us into it. Or she might try to take over us. She thinks she’s a god.”
“But she isn’t one, and our own gods can protect us from her,” Milos assured him. “Trust me, I know how to handle this.”
And with those words, the Ubbo Chieftan returned to the meeting ground. “I can offer you a place in our coalition,” he told her. “As an equal. What you call yourself among your own people does not concern us, but at our meetings you’ll refer to yourself as Chieftan, like the rest of us, and you’ll have as much say as anyone else - no more, no less. If you accept that, we can help you. We’ll put our weight behind yours, set a boundary, and tell the Hyummin to advance no further. They’ll probably listen, but if not, what happens next is on them.”
For a moment, Atmav stood silent, considering her options as she looked back to her two followers. After a long moment of deliberation, the queen nodded her head, “Very well, if it means that the Hyummin will be kept at bay then who am to disagree with such a simple request?”
She extended a hand to the chieftain in order to seal their pact as allies. Milos accepted it, and shook.
“I look forward to being able to tell the Hyumnin to stay off our land,” Atmav said as she stepped back, turning away from the chieftain as she brought her blade to rest upon her shoulder. She motioned for her followers to move with her as she stepped down the hill, leaving Milos and his men to their own devices.
Present Day
“Keep running!”
“Don’t look back! Get to the b-“
Blood littered the sand as a boulder fell onto a Selka, with enough force to send the other flying. He landed on his back with the wind knocked out of him, dazed and unable to move, though still able to comprehend the situation he was in. Though, what could he do when he spotted a rocky being barreled through the tree line, roaring in anger.
They had encountered it along their western lands, patrolling for any sign of Hyummin intervention in their lands. It slaughtered nearly the entirety of their party, their attempts to fight it had proven only to make it angrier and more wrathful. But now, it had followed those who had escaped to the very beaches where they could be able to run, yet, the only survivor could do little but crawl towards the sea as he felt the very earth tremor as the being approached, laughing. He could turn just in time to see it reach for him, it was then that the Selka gave into fate and merely watched as the rock reached for him.
Then, sparks flew as something caused the Ihokhur to real back in surprise , sand kicking up as it scrambled backwards.
“Get up, boy!” A harsh, feminine rang in the Selka’s ear.
Atmav stood over the seal, clutching the Desolate Greatsword as she stared down the Ihokhur her wings of the nights spread in an act of intimidation. However, the sight of a being with a weapon made from Orvus, alongside a blade base from Kalani’s own flesh, confused the creature. Who, upon standing to its full massive height, momentarily forgot the angrier that it had felt.
“What are you?” It asked, looking to the wings then back to the sword.
Atmav was silent, before sand kicked into the air once more, her four wings flapping powerfully as she went to a speed that caused the Ihokhur to momentarily wonder what was happening. Then, sparks flew once more as the blade contacted the body of the great being, a powerful force causing it to stagger back once more.
“I have been looking for a reason to use this blade that Orvus had forged me,” came the bloodthirsty voice of Atmav, the Ihokhur looking up to see her just out of reach
“I will tear you limb from limb before Kalani does!” It roared once more, moving to pick up the boulder. A scarlet beam cleared through its shoulder, but it reached the boulder and haphazardly threw it in the direction of Atmav. The boulder had come close to hitting Atmav, who had only dodged due to knowing what the beast was doing, but it brought her close enough for her to meet the back of the Ihokhur’s hand. Sending her sailing into the sand, the beast quickly charging after her with a blood-curdling roar.
A scarlet beam then found its way to the glowing indentation on its head, it stopped the charged in its entirety as the beat fell upon the sand, clutching what it used to see. A sustained beam came through the mist of sand, the Ihokhur roaring in a panic before fleeing into the forest.
Atmav, taking in painful breaths as she gripped the side where the Ihokhur had hit her, definitely feeling cracked ribs. Her form crouched onto the ground.
The Selka ran to her side, falling into his knees before her, “God-Queen!”
“Boy,” Atmav said, clenching her teeth in pain, “Why did you not run?”
“I could not abandon you, my queen.”
“Good, help me to my feet,” she commanded as the Selka rushed to her side. “When we get back to the tribe, send messages to the other tribes,” her words were cold.
“We are going to war.”
The start of this post takes place ten years before the timeskip, Atmav having spent many years learning how to be a ruler, maintaining a balance with the other Selka tribes. She meets with the leader of the Ubbo, discussion of joining the coalition to deter the likes of the Hyummin from moving into their land. Milos allows her to join as an equal, not letting her view as a god-Queen be seen by the others of the alliance. Atmav accepts.
The second part of the post involves a two Aspasian Selka running away from an Ihokhur, who had run through their patrol earlier. It kills one of the two before Atmav intervenes, having an advantage of the being not having dealt with the likes of her before. She gets to use her blade again, finding the body of the Ihokhur hard to get through. When she goes for a third strike, after dodging a boulder, it swings and hits her in a backhand. It charged her before being shot by the beam of the blade, causing it to collapse before another beam send it packing back to Kalani.
A collaboration with@Hank Morning, 17th of Sun’s Dawn, 4E213 Aboard the Kismet, Daggerfall port, High Rock
A pair of glowing, yellow eyes moved along the ship, having stopped with the facade of happiness that she had put on whenever dealing with someone. Drujha would be on the lookout for a Nord, as she moved below the main deck, through the passengers quarters, keeping a firm hand on her satchel. Eventually, she would find her way to those Private Quarters that she so desperately wanted, the privacy offered by them would be put to better use under her watch rather than some Nord. At least, she hoped that the door she chose would be that of the Nord and not one of the slavers that she would avoid for as long as she could.
Two Dunmer and a Nord.
It was a one in three chance that Drujha pick a door that the Nord used, and a two in three chance of meeting one of those slavers that would likely remark that she was but mere help. Drujha let out a sigh before she stepped to one of the doors, raising her knuckles to knock on it, then hesitating for a moment. She had to reassure herself of the chance before she plastured the large smile on her face again, mentally preparing herself to talk with someone from the proud north, leaving race aside for just a moment. Her knuckles went against the wooden door, a hand inside of her cloak as she kept it close to the axe she carried on her side.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
After a few seconds the door opened and Aurora appeared in the opening to greet her visitor, strange as it was, for she hadn’t expected any. She looked down to find an Argonian woman with a toothy grin -- or was it a smile? -- looking up at her. Aurora had taken her coat and boots off after settling into the room and was now left bare-foot and dressed only in her white tunic and cream-colored pants. “Hail, Argonian,” she said and scratched her head, surprised. “How… how can I help you?”
Drujha mentally thanked the Hist for letting the room be that of the Nord, a calm flowing through the tension that the odds of meeting a slaver caused her. The argonian’s own darker apparel contrasted that of the Nord’s brighter, the Black Marsh meeting the frozen lands of the north, Drujha could not help but make such a mental observation. Then, one of her bandaged hands went forward as she spoke with that naively, innocent tone, “I extend the claw of greeting, friend! I wanted to speak on the matter of rooms!”
“Claw of greeting, eh? I like that,” Aurora said with a smile and shook the offered hand. “My name is Aurora. What about the rooms?” “Drujha,” she started before hiding her hands in her cloak, before going into her explanation, “I wanted to see if, perhaps, you would allow me to use your room. You see, I am a researcher and I do not wish to allow… prying eyes to view it before it is ready.” Drujha paused for a moment as she cocked her head to the side, still smiling as if she were not coming across as a beggar wanting whatever someone allowed..
“I would have asked one of the Dunmer, but… I am sure you can imagine how that would go,” the argonian continued with a light laugh. Taken aback but also amused by the Argonian’s audacity, Aurora was unable to repress a laugh. “Before it is ready?” she asked, deciding that her curiosity was more pressing than expressing her unwillingness to vacate her room. “What might it be?”
“Things,” Drujha said, obviously not wanting to divulge the information just because someone asked, “While I would be more than happy to share my findings, there is no finding a Clear Stream from it. Nobody understands the scrawlings of an argonian these days, xhu?” She pushed her cloak aside to show the satchel, carrying the many notebooks about her presumed research.
Aurora frowned, though she was secretly relieved that Drujha had given her an obvious and convenient reason not to acquiesce to the request. “Well, Drujha, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the habit of letting strangers perform research in my chambers, especially if they won’t tell me what it is.” The Nord crossed her arms resolutely and straightened up, making the most of the height advantage she had. “I’m not a scholar, really, so your research doesn’t interest me anyway. Unless it concerns ancient artifacts…” she said, trailing off, before noticing herself slipping. “Err -- either way, my answer is no. I paid for this room, fair and square.”
“Ancient artifacts,” Drujha echoed, her own curiosity rising at the mention, unlike the nord, however, her mind wandered upon it as she gave an interested look over Aurora. “What kind of artifacts?” the argonian took a step forward, “Ancient Nord? Dwemer?” Drujha then got uncomfortably close as she said the last, “Daedric?” Her smile morphed into one that was consumed by obsession and lust, “Do you have any with you?”
Aurora had to resist the urge to take a step back to maintain her personal space, but she didn’t want to give Drujha the idea that the Argonian was welcome to enter her room. “I believe that is none of your business,” Aurora retorted, her tone now decidedly icy, and she narrowed her eyes at Drujha. “And I’d be much obliged if you maintained a respectful distance.”
Drujha’s eyes widened at the realization of stepping into another’s personal boundaries, immediately stepping back as her smile disappeared into a slightly hurt expression. “I am most sorry! Murky waters have clouded my mind,” the argonian said as she entered into an apologetic bow to attempt to make amends for her rudeness. “It was never my intention to be rude, it is just that certain artifacts could do wonders into advancing my studies,” she explained as her shoulders drooped. Her eyes avoided meeting the gaze of Aurora.
“I-” she began trying to find some words, “I just have a very deep interest in certain things in this world, sometimes I let my desires come before my manners.”
That softened Aurora’s disposition somewhat. In a way, Drujha reminded her of herself when she was younger, and the way she had practically assailed Azar with an endless array of questions. She rubbed her chin and relaxed into the doorpost, waving the other hand in a reassuring manner. “It’s quite alright, Drujha, you are forgiven. Curiosity isn’t a bad thing,” the older Nord said. “To answer your question: no, I don’t have any artifacts with me, just some paintings by the hand of a rising Breton star. Nothing, I wager, that interests you,” she added with a knowing smile.
“Tell you what,” Aurora said and peered her head out of her room and into the hallway. “I haven’t heard any movement coming from the cabin next to mine. Maybe the person that rented it isn’t using it very much.” She glanced back down at Drujha. “Maybe you’ll have more luck with them! Whoever they might be… I haven’t seen anyone enter or leave, either.”
“Dunmer,” Drujha said disappointedly, looking at the door for a moment before looking back at Aurora with a small, yet forced smile. “Thank you, Aurora. Hopefully, whatever Dunmer owns that room does not act like what I have heard,” the argonian sighed before going to look through her satchel. She brought out a book and offered it to the Nordic woman, more as a sign of goodwill than genuinely wanting to give away anything, “Here, you may have no interest in anything a scholar writes, but maybe this will satisfy your earlier curiosity.” When Aurora took the book, Drujha was already skipping away. The book had a title on the front.
”The Lusty Argonian Maid Vol. I”
"What in Oblivion…" Aurora muttered, staring at the glossy embossed title in disbelief. It was such an absurd gift that she began to laugh and eventually found herself doubled over and gasping for breath. She had no idea whether this was Drujha's idea of a joke or if she handed her the wrong book by accident. Either way, it was fantastically funny and her opinion of the Argonian shot up a few notches. "Thanks for the laugh!" Aurora yelled after her but it had been minutes and she didn't expect Drujha to hear her. Still sniggering, Aurora closed the door and tossed the book into her open trunk.
17th Suns Dawn Daggerfall, High Rock A collab with @Stormflyx
It was always a good omen to nearly be late to boarding a ship, at least, that is what Drujha would tell herself as she had pushed her way through crowds of people to merely make it in time. The lass had justification for such near tardiness, however, having spent the night compiling notes and omitting facts from those notes that merely did not help her in the slightest. After all, what good was knowing what strange name a daedric went by when she could refer to such by the more common and well-known name. It lowered the likelihood of forgetting the name and confusing one daedric name for another, though that was but merely a task that she frequented as her notebooks increasingly became more akin to scribbles as she omitted information.
However, such information was not important when one had to be somewhere at a certain and she knew that the frantic pace could have been avoided had she just taken a night away from the obsession… but how could she resist when there was so much to be done? Drujha was merely happy to make it, panting as leaned against the railing to gain her bearings before she realized a most crucial fact.
“Kaoc,” the lady cursed as she pushed herself off the railing to bring her hand to her chin, thinking of a way to get the private room that she would need in order to continue her study without arousing notable suspicion. Drujha looked around for a moment before she began to mutter to herself, “Perhaps walk in and take it? No, would likely be kicked out.” She looked to the sky, “Beg? No, might as well be a soft-skin.” It seemed for a moment that the argonian would not have any ideas before her right hand had drifted to feeling against the bandages on her forearms, feeling the places where she had carved or burned symbols into her skin.
“The captain,” Drujha muttered to herself, looking in the direction of the upper deck and for a moment she bobbed her head back and forth as she weighed the options. Then, a sweet, innocent smile came to her face before she began to skip into that same direction. She seemed to be cheerful and in good spirits as she made her way over the Main Deck, even letting out a slight giggle as she stopped right before the stairs to the upper deck.
“Oh captain, may I speak with you?” Drujha called to the upper deck, not daring to intrude without permission. An argonian Ravana thought to himself as he eyed the woman at the stairs. There had been a number of argonians on the list - two male, one female, and this one in the cloak was a female. She was quite a curious thing with big eyes, and even if the beastfolk were not his flavour in the opposite sex, he was not above being generous with a paying customer. “Madam,” he began, walking towards the top of the staircase, a hand on each hip. And his legs parted in a powerful stance. He gazed down at her. “Of course you may, come-“ he said, waving his hand as if to beckon her.
The argonian eagerly skipped up the stairs, her cloak flowing as she did so. She stopped two steps below him before she moved her hand forward to offer her hand in formal greeting. “I extend the claw of greeting, captain,” she said with a bubbly voice. “I wanted to talk on the matter of private rooms,” Drujha started, keeping her voice happy as her wide eyes peered into the captain. “As far as I am aware, they are all booked…” he answered curtly, shaking her hand as he did so. He could already sense where the conversation was headed, and after having shook her hand, he turned on his heel and made his way across the upper deck towards the railings - a favoured spot. “I am not in the business of pulling strings my dear… But, do share your concerns…”
“Well, you see captain, I am a researcher!” She announced proudly as she followed the captain, “However, my studies are something that are best left away from prying eyes.” Drujha stopped for a moment to fiddle around in her bag before taking out one of her notebooks to show the captain, however, she did not open it to show what contents lied within. She threw a look over her shoulder before stuff the book back into the satchel, seeming paranoid about having the contents of her studies being seen. The argonian looked the captain up and down thinking of the best way to convince the man that she needed the room, rather than some other individual. “Why, Captain, perhaps you could even help in my endeavors! After all, a seasoned man of the sea is likely to have great insight as to what kind of warfare is raged on it, no?”
Ravana’s eyebrow raised, the woman certainly had some nerve behind her, and he only half disliked that about her. She was obviously an upstart, he had once been one too… And so he continued to entertain her. “I understand research, yes.” His golden gaze squinted at the sight of her book, he was slightly curious as to what this woman was doing. She was… twitchy.
He chuckled from the bottom of his throat, “you’re not a researcher, are you?” He asked, moving his arms behind his back, hands interlocked, his posture was graceful and he deliberately straightened up for Drujha - not to intimidate, but simply to make his silhouette more impressive, to cut the shape of a confident Captain. The man he absolutely was. “Do you work for a newspaper, miss?” He asked, his eyes glittering. This wasn’t the first time a reporter had tried to sneak on board and get insider information on him, on his crew, on his lifestyle. The man behind the curtain.
“A reporter?” Drujha echoed to herself, her smile and wide eyes disappearing into a look that could only be described as cold as her now narrowed eyes peered emotionlessly into the captain. She took a step forward, her short frame stretching to what height she could muster as she lowered the hood of her cloak. A palpable tension formed into the air as silence overcame Drujha, trying to pin words to this offense and trying to think of something to say that would not get her thrown off the ship. Then, she began to speak very quietly, in an unnatural cold tone.
“You take me for some cheap reporter? You must be a hatchling to make assumptions with people that you have just met, Xhu. An egg spent too much time in the shade. I have spent years attaining what spells and power I have today, and while I can understand denial for my request, I will not be compared to some lowly reporter.” She paused for a moment, allowing her words to sink in, “I am a mage, soft-skin. A mage that has been studying too much and too long to be compared as such.” Her hand drifted over her satchel and held it tight as her yellow eyes glowed with offense, bringing it closer as another silence came over her.
Then, that same innocent and coy smile came back to her face.
“It is rude to make assumption, captain! I did pay for this voyage and I think an insult like that is bad for future business!” Her words, though in a tone of that of an innocent girl, seemed cold as she warned him from making such an insult, “Anyways, I believe a mage such as myself and an astute captain can come to an arrangement on lodgings, xhu?”
Ravana did not flinch, for why would he? The deck was lined with his crew - men and women who had sailed with him for years. They were each in tune with each other because heads closest to the upper deck did turn, and activity slowly ceased as eavesdropping began. The hand of the redguard Captain flexed instinctively over the hilt of the sword but he did not need to touch it, instead, he tipped his head back and laughed up towards the sky. A loud laugh too, from his stomach - his hands returned to his hips.
“A good reporter isn’t cheap, my dear,” he said to her with a shrug and easy smile, finding himself again. He could go on, but to cause any more of a scene wouldn’t go over well, but his interest was certainly piqued in the Argonian now, he’d be making note of this one. “I meant no insult, as I’m sure you also meant no insult to me…” His head cocked to the side, and his smile became rather more devious in its harshness, his own gaze glowering down upon her from above. His lips were slightly parted and he drew in a sharp breath. “The private suites are taken, perhaps you’ll have more luck in convincing someone to share with you, or give up their lodgings to you. What kind of Captain would I be to deny them of that which they have paid for? Hmmm?”
The argonian continued to smile for a moment before she let out a sigh, though keeping a lighter smile as she looked up to the captain, “I suppose you have a point. No captain I know would do such a thing.” She cocked her head to the side before continuing on, “Though, do you know how hard it is going to be to convince let someone allow an argonian into their quarters? Rapid rivers are less hard to swim against.” “Though can you blame me for trying the easier way?,” Drujha laughed lightheartedly as she gave a small shrug.
He held a silence for a while, he was as responsible as he could be but that didn’t mean he was above stirring the pot when he could, it was quite a trip to Anvil afterall, and he needed his entertainment too. He thought to the list of passengers and he smirked, deciding that yes, he would throw his dip a toe into this endeavour after all.
“Two Dunmer and a Nord.” He said quite abruptly, taking himself back to the ship’s wheel. He couldn’t give names, but if this Argonian was truly the type to research, this would at least give her something to occupy herself with - and he could enjoy the show from afar. “Maybe start there, miss.”
The argonian allowed a hand to hold up her chin as she thought of what the captain had just said, before she bobbed her head left to right. “Dunmer are right out…” she said very softly to herself before her eyes snapped back to the captain, her smile returning as she let out a laugh. “Thank you, captain! May rains be ever on your back,” she stated before turning and skipping away.
“Yes-yes. Wait-Patience, almost through maze-labyrinth,” another said.
An aroiox looked to another before it called out, “Kavka, how much wait-longer?” Many had grown thin, the young had already succumbed to starvation as the two brothers attempted to maintain some form of rational order over the people. But the dissent was growing as it grew clearer with each day that the gods had abandoned them, leaving them to die when they said it was their destiny to leave the accursed maze. Perhaps, it was because they had not done what the gods wanted, maybe.
“Know-not,” Kavka said, looking forward, before turning to his brother, “Brother-kin?”
Yreu only shook his head.
“We lack-desire food-meat! Young-kin starve, eggs spoil!” the one who had asked Kavka, stepping towards the brothers with a clear anger in her voice. Kavka only turned in response, looking down upon the one who dared approach. Soon they’re chests touched as the two pushed their weights against each other, the female and the male seemed almost equal in their weight. “You leader-tyrant! Lead us to death-stave!,” she growled.
“Maze-thing by creator-gods design! They will deliver-give food!” Kavka snapped as he pushed the female to the ground, her arms scraping against the stone floor of the maze. He felt the hand of Yreu on his shoulder, clearly attempting to reign Kavka in.
“Brother-kin, we must-need to keep move-stepping. The god-creators are test-watching us,” Yreu said calmly, but his brother already pulled away and stepped towards the female.
“God-creators, wish-desire us to live-thrive. No food-meat,” Kavka said looking upon the angered female who scrambled to her feet, attempting to push back against the male who only put her back onto the ground.
“Food-meat…” Kavka said as he watched blood drip from a cut on the female’s forearm.
“Kavka, do not!” Yreu squawked, the talons of his hands digging into the brothers shoulder. Then, he looked up. “Brother-kin, look!”
Kavka looked up, many of the aroiox following to see a sight that would only mean bad omens for the rest of eternity. The eyes of the maze, they closed. The aroiox waited to see if they would reopen, hoping that their creators had not abandoned them. But the eyes did not reopen, and to the children of Eurysthenes and Vakk, it meant that they had lost their favor.
Kavka looked down at the now terrified female, her blood pooling on the stone floor.
Hunger.
Hunger.
FEAST-KILL
60 years later
The Maze.
Vakk remembered this place well, though the pillars of spikes that had erupted from the walls were certainly recent addition that it could do without. It made travel somewhat troublesome at times, as it either had to go through small spaces or taking the time to break through the great pillars of the maze. In addition to the spikes, it made the twisting labyrinth even more of a special hell to get through as the spikes would form new walls or even form new tunnels to be climbed through.
Even with a god’s speed, this was a tedious endeavour, but Vakk was determined to find those that Eurysthenes had abandoned to their fate while That One watched idly as the enigma took a god’s memory. Vakk took one step after another, focusing on its task, not allowing its mind to cloud its judgement on what needed to be done. However, the maze always had a way of playing with one’s mind, even without Eurysthenes being there to play tricks or suddenly change the way. It was almost as if the maze itself was relaying the abandonment to Vakk in such a way to merely be insidious, but it knew the maze was not doing it, but it was Vakk’s own mind.
”We abandoned them, I could have left to save the Aroiox,” Vakk said to itself, tearing open its mouth as it spoke. It crossed its arms behind his back, walking along a narrow pathway that the pillars had left untouched, keeping all its senses focused on anything that may lead it to the children it had left.
”We abandoned them, but I could have stepped in and brought sense to Eurysthenes,” Vakk spoke, its voice was emotionless as it continued his way through the maze. A left turn then a right turn. It had not been there long, but it could already feel that the repetition of the maze was getting to it as everything seemed the same, almost indistinguishable except for the pillars being jutted out in different locations. This place was lifeless and bleak without Eurysthenes’ additions.
Almost too bleak for Vakk’s tastes.
Vakk stopped as it felt his foot kick something away, the rattling leading to a cacophony of a graveyard, and the sight that befell it would be one that it would never be able to rid of itself. For the first time in That One’s existence as a god, it would feel remorse and pain for its actions as it fell to its knees. The sight that befell him was one of a thousand bones, blood stained the walls and rotted, shrivelled meat clung to the teeth of those who had given into hunger.
”No…” it said, sadness filling every whole that had been created where it had torn out its anger.
”I-I could not stop this” it said, remorse following the sadness.
”Eurysthenes did this,” it said, blame wanting to snuff out what truth existed in the situation, before its hands clasped the side of its head. Vakk sobbed, ”...Eurysthenes fault.”
There was a silence as Vakk did needless breaths between sobs, knowing the feeling of abandonment that Li’Kalla had felt, knowing the pain of having something taken from it like mortal who had lost a loved one. Now it knew, it knew what true pain was.
”I let this happen,” Vakk said, truth breaking the blame it wanted to keep just convince itself that there were no alternative fates. But the truth was what hurt the most, knowing that it should have stepped in where Eurysthenes had failed. That it should have stepped in to be the savior of these lost and misguided souls. That it should have voiced its opinions to Eurysthenes rather than being silent.
But those times were long passed.
Vakk went and picked up a skeleton, wanting to cradle a being he regarded as a child, only for the skeleton to fall to pieces. Vakk hunched over and let out wails and sobs so loud and so painful that even the light of the Heliopolis would fade and be washed out. There was a way for it to have saved his children and it had failed them and it had failed Eurysthenes, the only one who had taken the time to truly try to change Vakk for the better. It had failed in every regard and it was those failings that inflicted an additional pain to the saddened god.
”No…” it rejected, casting away the truth. It would not be a failure and it would let all of Galbar know that its creation had thrived, even in death.
”My children will live the life they deserved! They will live a life that was robbed of them by my failings” the voices cried it in pain and anguish as Vakk jammed a fist into the ground as a few of its tendrils slithered through the air to grasp some bones. There, the god of speech would craft, there it would perfect an artifact capable of bringing back its children and erase one of his many failures. The children shall hear the music of life once more as it took the pieces of a stone and molded metal through it.
From a leg bone, Vakk would craft a hilt, forcing it into a place alongside a skull before it would attach a small chain made from ligaments not yet decayed, forced into a metallic structure. It would force the skull into a bell, the only indication of it being otherwise being the hollow eye sockets and the bone that made the hilt.
Vakk raised the bell high, allowing for the light of day to gaze upon the unholy creation that would go against the very balance of nature itself.
”I know what it is like to lose,” It said, casting away its rationality to have the bell toll once.
Then the bells would toll twice. Then thrice. So on and so forth.
Soon, a sickly green pulse erupted from the bell, darkening the sky as a gas rained from above, touching the bones and remains that belonged to the once beloved people. The bones began to shift, slowly moving to reconnect with parts that they had long disconnected from, slowly becoming what they once were before the failure of the creator.
”You are Vakk’s chosen! I did not want this, I wanted you all to thrive! I wanted to see you all live lives full and happy! Now, I give you all a chance again! Come my children, live again!”
The bones rose, souls collecting within them as eyes of the same sickly green began to form in those hollow sockets, the forms of long dead birds looking to their creator and savior, the one had first gave them life and the one that brought back life where there was death. However, as Vakk looked down upon them, it saw not life created from death, it saw a living death, beings that had been born of unnatural causes. However, That One had done what it had promised, to bring them back from death.
They looked onto their creator, unable to express emotion and unable to feel warmth or cold. The undead merely were.
“My children! I am sorry for having abandoned you for so long! But now, I have given you the chance to live again! You will all know the touch of life, the touch of my life!” Vakk said, its tendrils moving to take the bell from its hand.
Then there was silence. The dead did not move, they did not speak but they did stare blankly at their god.
“We cannot know life for we do not live,” a voice from the crowd said, “We are but fragments, Lord Vakk.”
Vakk grew confused as the skeletons spoke in complete words, not as the broken words and conjunctions that the aroiox had typically used. These souls, they were not the same aroiox nor were they proper souls created from the Pyres of Katharsos. No, these souls were otherworldly, soul ash bound by magic in a dead form that did not bleed or age, a form that could only rot until nothing was left.
”N-nonsense, my child! You live again, but it is my life that I bestow upon thee! You live in forms that cannot die again, in forms incapable of hunger and pain! Come my children, rejoice!”
There was silence. No joy to be found in the husks of children, but after a moment, there was but merely a polite collection of clapping as their creator watched over them. Nothing they did was natural, their movement was shambles, their speech was but mere echoes, their life but a farce.
But Vakk was blind to the truth, blind to the fact that the beings he brought back from death were but mere husks. He would lead them, and he would settle them on Galbar.
His children would thrive.
Vakk has 4 MP and 16 FP.
Vakk creates the Dead Bell an artifact that it is capable of raising the corpses of deceased beings, whether they have recently died or whether they are but mere skeletons, but it cannot bring back the original soul so it instead makes a Funky™ soul, made out of soul ash bound together by magic, but the sapience depends on the corpse with a corpse of an intelligent being able to retain some intelligence (being able to talk, learn, and generally do most things) but unable to do the emotion thing and are more like husks rather than something with a proper soul. The radius of the artifact’s range is 100 meters and it can raise up to 1000 at a time, though the process does take ten minutes. 3 MP spent
Vakk has 1 MP and 16 FP left.
3 MP towards Undeath Portfolio
Vakk goes to the Infinite Maze in order to find any survivors of the Aroiox population, but as it goes through the maze, it begins to blame himself for leaving them for so long and for allowing Eury to become the amnciesiated mess that it is now. Then he stumbles upon the boneyard of the Aroiox who cannibalized each other, not having food for 60 years and killing the entire population in the process.
Vakk shows great sadness and ultimately blames itself for allowing things to turn out the way it did. Then, it turns away from the truth and natural order of life to create the Dead Bell in order to bring back the aroiox, though they are but mere husks who are incapable of feeling emotion or anything else, but are for the most part normal as they can think and exist. Vakk notices this, but does not believe that the process was incomplete and believes that he has brought the children back.
Name: Drujha Nagmesh. Race: Argonian Age: 24 Birthsign: The Atronach Family Origins: Soulrest, the Black Marsh
Appearance:
Standing at approximately 5’5”, Drujha is not the tallest Argonian around and her more frail appearance makes her even less intimidating than most of her kin, even if she tries to carry herself at the tallest she can manage. To many, she still seems youthful, still seeming to be an innocent adolescent and oftentimes being confused as a young student in the magical arts. Her thinner build, does not help very much fitting the build that would be expected of someone who relies on more upon magic than any physical trait, however, it does help with first impressions. It is no doubt that she also takes great pride in maintaining her youthful appearance.
To hide her frailer nature, Drujha sports a heavy cloak, almost as dark as her scales and lined with white fur and adorned with traditional argonian patterns that ends just below her stomach though traveling the full length of her arms. Under the cloak she wears a tattered, dark purple tunic that extends to her knees but is missing the sides, which show the soft scales of the argonian. She wears blackened pants, with various argonian patterns sewn throughout, tucked into old brown boots that seem to be starting to fall apart. Overall, she seems to be a neat and always clean, with the exception of the tattered tunic and the patterned pants she wears beneath her cloak which seems to hardly see the light of day. Her hands are wrapped in linens, bloodied and dirty, almost ruining the appeal of her otherwise clean wardrobe and she never reveals what injury may have caused those bandages to become so bloody, never motioning to replace them while the stink of blood moves away from them.
Moving onto her physical attributes, this argonian has a head full of dark blue plumage that runs down to the base of her skull and goes outwards. While this may make wearing hoods a bit more difficult, they do not take away from her seemingly glowing yellow, reptilian eyes. Drujha’s skin is riddled with various deadric symbols that have either been burned into her skin or carved into her, not a sign of daedric worship but of her commitment to attempt controlling them, however, this does make people assume she worships them. Yet, despite all these symbols of horrid nature, she still moves with a skip in her step as if she were a child bursting with joy and happiness.
Personality:
Over time, Drujha has grown to become what many would note as controlling and highly self-absorbed in a world that only she lives in. These claims have rooted in the fact that Drujha seeks control in order to keep others safe, in order to mold a world that she views as perfect in every regard, whether or not that means she has to alienate a few people does not bother her. In that light, it is clear that she has become a tad bit cynical and cold as she believes that nobody will understand, or even support, her vision of a world where the daedra were totally controlled. To many, it seems that her obsession with control borders that edge of sanity and insanity as she attempted to garner further power in her magic. Once, she was very eager and happy to share her ideals, but rejection and argument have tempered her to believe other things and while she does maintain a happy and outgoing appearance, it has been lessened.
She is one who will not expect others to understand her vision, though she does not actively force her ideals down another throat. If one does not agree with her ideals, then she tends to drop the subject altogether and move into other topics of converts. If it was not overtly apparent, it would seem that the only thing she cares about would be her great dream to an almost fanatical degree, but to say it is the only thing she cares about would be wrong. Drujha cares deeply for her argonian roots, caring deeply for the hist that made her who she is and her family that has raised her. Of course, while she does care deeply for her vision, she does know when and where to talk about it, often times away from prying eyes and when in seclusion with her comrades. Drujha, in that regard, comes across as coy and innocent in public, almost having a split personality from her far more cunning and serious side.
It is with that regard that Drujha is brutally cunning and cunningly brutal, often fooling people that she is messing with powers that she does not quite understand. When she is alone with her book, she writes with the face of someone who seems to never have smiled before, becoming so absorbed in her study that whatever veil she seems to hide behind fades into the background as if she were merely a host for some crazed demon. However, this appearance of crazed, maniacal individual can peek out at certain times in public. When she goes to summon something, when she hears words associated with daedra, when she talks to others deeply about her plans of a world with total control over the daedra. Drujha almost becomes insane as she allows this side to take over when it does, finding the sweet release of freedom to be intoxicating and maddening.
This crazed side, while maintaining the happiness and seeming innocence of Drujha, is very eager to do what it must to obtain the knowledge that Drujha so desperately seeks that moral boundaries almost evaporate. The death of people she has not grown attached to, those who would actively move against her plans, those who would have more knowledge of what she desires all become fair game. As such, against these people, she is not afraid to steal nor being afraid of what consequences might befall her as this obsession fueled side would run rampant. What is worse, Drujha knows how best to hide this side, knowing when to cut loose and when to fool others into believing her naivety and innocence.
On a lighter note, due to her studies of daedra, she is very much a fan of literature, finding great pleasure from reading various works of fiction. While, to a minor extent, this liking spreads to other arts, she views literature as more grasping than the others as she finds herself lost in words from time to time. Additionally, Drujha enjoys conversation, whether they be philosophical in nature or just to pass the time, and while her cynical nature may sometimes make others shy away from in depth conversation, she does her best to not let that cynicism actively drive one away. In that aspect, and others, she is a well mannered individual.
With her well mannered self, Drujha is a great guest, and a great host, never interrupting someone when they speak as well as giving them her undivided attention. She will smile, apologize, thank, etc as she has learned that it is with good manners that others are more likely to see you in a better light.
History:
Even when Drujha was but a mere hatchling, heard tale of the Oblivion Crisis and how it seemed to have devastated the world over, only to be driven back by the likes of the ‘Hero of Kvatch’ and usher in a newer era of peace. However, Drujha was more enamored with the aspect of the Oblivion Crisis that is often forgotten to the outside world, that the Argonians had managed to invade the daedra and defeat them in their own plane of Oblivion. She remembered that she would always ask her elders to speak of those tales that had been passed down, and when they did not wish to speak, they would give her a book of the event and she would read it. Being born with a strong connection to magic, she felt that perhaps she could live up to and do even more than what her ancestors had done.
By consequence, it was these tales that started the, arguably, unhealthy obsession with the Daedra and how to control them since it had been shown that the Argonians are more than able to invade there likes. Drujha would study and study, leading her to the likes of magic and conjuration as she had read that powerful mages could summon Daedra from their planes and use them against their foes. This prompted her to seek a teacher from a young age, only barely reaching her adolescence before a begrudging mage would finally take her under his wing, teaching her the basics of magic. This teacher was known to some in Cyrodil as Walks-In-Water, and was commonly referred to as such by his peers. It was under Walks-In-Water that this young mind became focused on her goal as he demonstrated that mages could, in fact, summon dremora from other planes of existence.
Her favorite memory would be the time when she first managed to summon something, while it was not daedra or dremora, it had been something. After years of studying, years of practicing spells and other forms of magic, she had summoned a dagger from nothing and Drujha knew that she had to learn more, and so she did. Conjuration was a difficult aspect to learn, but Drujha was determined and eager to learn and practice anything that she needed in order to move forwards. Perhaps she was happier with the show of progress than the actually event, perhaps she was happier being able know that one day she would be able to summon even the daedra in the future. Perhaps, just perhaps, Drujha felt that madness that would later consume her work, blossom into existence.
For a time, she was happy. For a time, Drujha continued her practice in the arts of conjuration under the tutelage of Walks-In-Water. She was about seventeen when the trying times in her family had begun to show itself, as Drujha’s father, always known as a distant man, had left the family to carry out a personal mission to ‘teach the Dunmer a lesson’. Drujha knew of the slaves the Dunmer would take, but she never knew of what her father had meant or even why he wanted to go and stir up trouble with the Dunmer. The ripple of this was felt through the family, pushing her mother to a self-inflicted tragedy and forcing her egg-brothers and sisters away. For a time, Drujha fell into sadness and locked herself away in her room, ignoring the world as she read her books and began to try and piece together the reasons of why her father had left, refusing to believe it as anything to deal with Dunmer.
Until, she began to think that it was herself. Her own eccentricities and her obsessions that she kept confined to herself.
Drujha began to double down on her efforts to find a path to secure the daedra as her own, for if she had them at her command then she could set in path a world where she would be able to control ever small aspect. If she had their power before her father had left then she could have kept him from leaving and then, perhaps, she could keep those she loved together. It was this thought that grew the more crazed side of Drujha, making her mind focus further and further and doing what she must in order to discover what she must do in order to become that powerful.
Then, Walks-In-Water needed to check upon her, entering her home while she was hunched over a book with a dagger in her hand, heated by the glow of a fire. He saw her there, bleeding and carving various daedric symbols into her flesh. To him, he saw a distressed individual, broken by the loss of a majority of her family and he decided to stay and help, bringing the student he had taken under his wing back into reality. Walks-In-Water tended her wounds and spoke with her, telling her that none of what happened was her fault. Eventually, he resumed teaching her, believing her to be pieced back together.
For a few more years, Drujha seemed normal to the outside world, but they knew not what happened in the shadows of her dwellings. The young woman had continued her studies, refining her abilities and using what money she could gather from her parent’s old savings to buy scrolls and tomes in secret from black market dealers. With the skills taught to her by Walks-In-Water, and with him none the wiser, she eventually felt that she had finally gotten the breakthrough that she so desperately desired. In private, Drujha summoned a daedra that she was satisfied with summoning, she had summoned a Clannfear. Sure, it was feral, but it was still more powerful than a useless scamp (which for the most part she ignored for their weakness). However, the noise was loud enough to awake Walks-In-Water, who had allowed her to stay in his residence she could not afford to live on her own given the amount of wealth she wasted trading for daedric books.
He confronted her, attempting to break her out of her ecstasy. When she responded with saying how close she was growing to be able to control the daedra, Walks-In-Water grasped her and began to say how her desire and obsession had consumed her and that she needed to come back to reality. Then, the clannfear defended its master, jumping upon the teacher and ripping him apart. Drujha did not stay to watch the creature slay her teacher, instead running to gather what she could before she fled into the night.
Biggest Regret: Drujha is haunted by the slaying of her master, he had gotten in her way of her dream, but Walks-In-Water had encouraged her to use her powers. She may not be able to forgive him, or herself, but she knew that it was wrong to kill him just for denying to teach her any further when she could have left and sought out another teacher.
Drujha‘s Goal: The current goal of Drujha is to become powerful enough to summon a true daedra, not a feral or weak animal, no elemental, but a deadra far more capable. She seeks to learn to summon a daedra lord.
Skills:
Expert:
Conjuration - Years of study under her former master, Walks-in-Water, had proven that she possess a talent for the art of conjuration. Adept:
Destruction - One of the first areas of magic that she had studied, first learning how to use the forces of flame, frost, and lighting in self-defence. This was refined throughout her life, but not so much the extend of Conjuration.
One Handed - Travelling Cyrodil can be dangerous to the untrained, luckily the Walks-In-Water, as well as some of her family members, have taught her enough to where she knows what she is doing so that she may travel in peace.
Enchanting - Another area taught by Walk-in-Water, imbuing objects with magic was difficult for her and thus she could never quite reach the rank of expert. Novice:
Illusion - The last area of magic that Walks-in-Water had taught her, however, she never got far after killing Walks-in-Water.
Speech - While not the best deceiver, or even speaker for that manner, she has learned how to put someone off through her words so that they do not know what lies beneath her exterior.
Spells:
Conjure Clannfear
Conjure Sword
Conjure Familiar
Conjure Storm Atronach
Lightning Cloak
Clairvoyance
Equipment: An Iron War-Axe, A satchel filled a waterskin and some bread, three notebooks with her findings on daedra and how best to control them, an ink and quill, and exactly thirty septims. Misc. Possessions: She owns both volumes of the Lusty Argonian Maid