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In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Cycle 3






The great and mighty Tlanextic, legendary ruler of Chicomoztoc and demon-banisher, had been watched over in his life. Perhaps not his entire life, but once he had banished the first of the demons, he had certainly felt a looming gaze watch over him and his great city. It was as if the indomitable sun, through the stone and night, had never let its gaze fully leave the empire; even in the time of great darkness, when the blackened clouds blocked out the sky itself, it seemed as if the sun had never left him, and, once those demon clouds were cast away, the sun never shone brighter. Chicomoztoc and Tlanextic were clearly the sun’s chosen on the Galbar, for they had banished demons and erected the greatest empire that could be witnessed; for over a century had the divine emperor directed the labors of his seven tribes, and now within the grand and sprawling capital city beneath the volcano, there were a dozen palatial abodes that were each grander and more ornate than any dwarven hole, let alone the hovels that other breeds erected on the surface.

Yet, that was so long ago and now Tlanextic had grown old and venerable, the old heat of his youth having left him long ago. The slow-death, petrification, was beginning to set in. On each occasion that he spilt his blood into the flame, as was now custom, the chisels had to bite deeper through his rocky scales, and each time there was less blood, and it was colder. Even now, as the venerable king laid within his chamber, deep in the volcano, the sun never left him. Even as someone approached from around the corner, with skin glowing brighter than any of his kind had seen before, the sun never left his sight. Then, the stranger spoke in a proclaiming voice as if it was a king to a subject, the voice commanded all attention, Tlanextic’s attention.

”Tlanextic, Mighty Ruler of Chozomoztoc, Banisher of Demons, you have served me loyally for your entire life. You are the only mortal to show such strength against those great pariahs, for that I have come to personally see you, your loyalty demands as much.”

And the First Tlatotoque was not surprised, for he had looked into the molten flows and seen this scene many times before in the prescient visions. He bowed his head, more than a little blinded by this figure who had come into the dark halls garbed in the aura as the sun. ”Great Sun,” Tlanextic addressed the Monarch of All, ”thy presence honorest a waning Tletzintli beyond words. Perhaps thou hath Seen mine intention: soon my time shall be at end, and rather than turn stone, I would rejoin the flames. With the sacrifice of all the blood that I have left, mayhaps the Smoking Demon may die, or be remit for ages to come.”

”But the honor is mine, Tlanextic, for it is no small feat for your kind to match the Smoking Demon.”

The Great Sun’s words ebbed through the chamber as He looked down upon the relieved ruler, glowing eyes scanning the aged form meticulously. The Monarch of All allowed Himself to inch closer to the old one, taking His time to gaze upon Tlanextic in what amounted to a bit of awe. It was only when the Monarch of All was but a mere step away from the First Tlatotoque that He allowed the light of His form to dim so that he may gaze upon the Great Sun. Calmed words, ones of reassurance softly came from the Monarch of All’s form.

”I am sure your blood would be enough. You will be remembered as someone for having fought until you were naught but mere stone, young one.”

To all of Chicomoztoc, the First Tlatotoque was beyond venerable, his youthful body torrid to the point that it had allowed him many, many more decades than any Achtotlata could rightly expect; any other would have cooled to his present point long ago. It was strange then to be called young, but then even the stone itself must seem a petulant youth to the timeless magma below. ”I think that nothing less would be meet. Hereat mine expiry, my demesne must pass to another. I sired many fruit, and all all think such station fain. My final yoke is to anoint the next Tlatotoque; in sooth, it behoof the land to choose ‘tween two, yet I am at a loss.

“Pleading for shrift, I would ask only one favor from you, Great Sun. Would thou rede me which be the worthier: Yolyamanitzin the elder eke hath wisdom past his year and warmth, who conjureth they that built the fire-dikes, or Yaotl, he who is stronger, who hath carveth many of these tunnels, who thinketh himself like the heated flame below, who doth swink without tire, yet who doth be the younger.”

"The answer is clear to me, Tlanextic: Yaotl, for he will carry all that you have built. He would grow to dislike the - nay! Yaotl would hate Yolyamanitzin! Know that Yaotl will grow wiser over the years, but Yolyamanitzin shall not grow stronger."

The Great Sun’s answer was swift and uncompromising, for He knew that His choice was the correct one; thus was His decree. The God’s eyes had reached the blood that Tlanextic had drawn with an unmoving gaze, only shifting when a drip slowly came. It was a moment of silence, as the Great Sun continued to study the great elder, seemingly hesitant on passing a judgment, before a smile came across His lips. Yet, still, He said nothing more.

Tlanextic had briefly contemplated the answer; the Monarch of All sensed that this had not been what Tlanextic had expected to hear, or what he likely would have done, but apathy and deference to authority were more than enough to make him see reason.

”In wisdom, I rise,” the Tlatoani quoth as his eyes lifted up from the floor and slowly, his gigantic form began to shudder and move. ”Thy will be done.”

The Monarch of All stepped out of the way of Tlanextic, moving an arm to gesture towards the door and bowing His head to the venerable leader. It was He who understood to bow to another in their domain, for it was their place to rule; He would follow behind Tlanextic until his sacrificial end. The Great Sun spoke once more with a soft and gentle voice not afforded to even many of the gods, affirming to the king that all would be well.

”Know, O great Tlanextic, that your rule was just and that your heirs would eagerly seek to follow in your footsteps. You will be missed by many, hallowed by many more. This will be a sad day for your empire, though they will be happy knowing that you shall sit by the Great Sun’s side.”

That last statement had finally roused the Tlatoani’s attention; perhaps the sun’s light had been too bright for him to have Seen such a fate. ”Be that the place whereinto all fare, eftsoon expiry?”

The great Ruler of the Gods shook His head, dismissing the assumption that all would join Him within the Divine Palace, by His side amongst the other gods. He continued to speak softly, though with a voice that carried with it a modicum of pride as His words graced the Tlatoani.

”No, your destiny is much greater. As such is the fate for those as mighty as yourself, dear Tlanextic, that you would be the first to earn a seat at my side within the hallowed Halls of the Gods. I know you shall understand.”

Tlanextic nodded, and in that moment the shuffling scrape of a dozen claws upon stone echoed from a passage outside. It was time; his escort had come, and so they followed after their ruler’s gradual gait. The Monarch of All walked with them too, and even the base guards who lacked the Sight could sense His power. They knew then that this must be a great sacrifice indeed, to draw the attention of a divine; not even they knew that it was to be Tlanextic’s final such rite, though.

It was in the sweltering heat of the volcano’s open caldera where all had assembled. Two suns illuminated the shadows of the pit: the one overhead, and the Great Sun among them. And the red-glow of the Galbar’s blood was overbrim in the bottom, a feverish lake of fire, and its red glow likewise banished darkness. The air itself simmered from the calidity.

Tlanextic lumbered to a ledge imminent above the bubbling lava. Aides made to bring whetted granite chisels and an obsidian bodkin, but the Tlatoani reared up to stand on only four claws, and used one of his foremost to wave them away. No more bleeding.

”Hist! Hear ye?” the lord quoth, and thousands of salamanders affirmed with cheer or roar. Inly Tlanextic began to grow afeared, but the Great Sun’s assurances helped to banish the seeds of those poisoned thoughts before they could sprout. ”My time is forby,” he declared suddenly, a statement that shocked them all into silence. The bubbling of the lava and hiss of its volcanic gases were all that sounded.

”Ye rejoice; meseems not one but two spirits grace us,” he continued, one molten eye flickering to spot the silhouette of Ea Nebel where she had stood in one of the few shaded alcoves.

The maiden stood silent, then revealed herself with dignity: a slim Tletzintli, her face covered with fibreglass woven as finely as tetlacuicitl-wool, and bright bangles of moonstone on her wrists. Under the veil, none could see her alien eyes which did not shine, nor that they faced not the crowd, but the Great Sun.

“By the grace of the Highest God, let the sacrifice proceed,” she said, and all heard her river-soft voice.

The Great Sun let loose a warm smile as Ea Nebel let herself be known to the masses, His head giving her an affirmative nod before the almighty gaze shifted over those under Tlanextic’s reign. When He spoke, the voice boomed and yet was soft, all within the Empire could hear and all would be graced by the Monarch of All’s words as the gentle words swayed within the breeze that carried it.

”Know, children of Yoliyachicoztl, that you have prospered under Tlanextic’s rule, for it is he who had banished the Smoking Demon. Know that it was he who fought where others could not. O’ mighty Tlanextic, may your sacrifice keep the great beast from awakening for generations to come, and may you serve by my side forever longer as you ascend to the Sun.”

”Let my yearn be discovered,” Tlanextic boomed, ”I hight lief Yaotl as Tlatoani; rule hence, rule well. Take my last sacrifice – this gift – and inscribe my name, and forget not my rede.”

And then Tlanextic cast himself from the ledge, down into the brimstone. The lava did billow as his massive stony form fell upon it, but then there was nothing as he sank and his once-formidable body returned to flame. Only once the body was no more did the Great Sun look into the air, before reaching out to pluck something out of the rising gasses. There was an iridescent orb sitting within His hands, a soul, Tlanextic’s soul. Aloft He held it so that all present may witness it, to bask in its radiant glory before extending a hand to Ea Nebel and beckoning her to join Him at His side. With nary a tremble, the young goddess approached, and laid her salamandrine hand in His claw, turning once more to the people. Her form wavered, like a reflection on rippled water, and for a moment they saw her embodied as a woman in imperial regalia. Then she was one of them once more.

”Yaotl, as Tlanextic’s chosen heir, may you strive in his great footsteps and lead this empire to yet further heights!”

With that proclamation, the Great Sun and the Shrouded Maiden disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Yaotl to pick up where the First Tlatoani had left. In the sky, the sun had shifted from its zenith to pronounce the end of the monumental event for Tlanextic’s empire.



Upon a grassy knoll, the Monarch of All looked over Ea Nebel, His true form, albeit not as mountainous as it truly was, still stood over the Lady of the Grave. His eyes looked over her before dismissively looking away, offering not a word before speaking to the soul He held within His hands. Only when He released it to go to the Divine Palace did the Monarch of All turn back to face Ea Nebel, once more in natural form, and speak to her.

”Good day, spawn of Iqelis. It is a bit early for us to be meeting. Though, that is not an issue. Pray tell, why were you in Tlanextic’s empire?”

“Sire,” Ea Nebel curtsied in her gown and held the pose. “I wanted to see what happens when a demi-god dies.”

The Monarch of All let out a cruel laugh, almost mocking the assumption that Tlanextic had truly been of the divine without holding a shard. The four arms of His form each grew long claws as He stepped towards the smaller goddess, casting a long shadow over her form. He let out a nearly frustrated sigh as He could not bring His true menace to bear against one who did not deserve His ire. The claws slowly receded back into His hands. He spoke slowly, His voice carrying with it a neutrality as His supposed animosity subsided.

”Tlanextic was not a true Demi-God. He was surely powerful, and soaked in divine energy, but he was not one such as yourself.”

She nodded slowly. “You honoured him very highly. His reign must have been great...” She looked up and held the innumerable nameless colours of His eyes firmly in her gaze for the first time. Only for a moment. Only through the veil. “Who else on this Galbar could possibly have earned such a privilege?”

”None have proven themselves enough. Tlanextic has done a great service for me and my realm by banishing one of my ancient enemies. No mere mortal could perform such a feat. Yet…”

The Monarch of All looked away as a pang of guilt overtook Him and He spoke in a saddening tone filled with that same guilt.

”I am sorry that it is you that must answer for your father’s crimes.”

Ea Nebel blinked, stiffened a little. “I… understand that he has slain the god, Aletheseus. I can only imagine that it was in his nature.” She tugged a little on the wide skirt of her gown, fingers curling in against the black lace of her glove. “It was before I was- born. I only know what I’ve been told.”

It was then that He let out a small sigh, looking to the skies and trying to speak more about why He had done what He had to Ea Nebel. Yet, none of His years of rulership had made Him ready to face what He was currently dealing with. For once, the great Monarch of All was stuttering over his words before two for His hands went to rub the sides of His head. Knowing that He had to tell Ea Nebel to free Himself of the feeling, He spoke in a slow voice.

”I have imposed a punishment upon Iqelis, one which would ultimately determine your fate, for that crime. I know that you do not yet know of what I speak, but in due time you will. I will not tell you what it is that you must do. What I have required of Iqelis to do to you.”

Ea Nebel’s hands tightened into fists on the silk of her gown. She could not unclench them. “Very- Very well. Sire. My father and I will suffer his just punishment together. I trust that your judgement will be both fair and wise.” A bead of milky sweat like candle-wax had formed on her forehead. “Is there anything else that I should know?”

Within a moment, the Monarch of All was sat upon one knee with His eyes gazing sadly upon Ea Nebel, unable to meet her gaze. Raising an arm, He tore loose a length of fabric from His own cloak, just large enough to fit around Ea Nebel’s form. It was there that He threw it around her, only then able to meet her gaze.

”Know that while I cannot tell you of what you might face, you can be prepared for it. This- it will allow you to make even the fiercest and most vile of creatures enjoy your presence, so long as you bear no hate in your heart.”

Ea Nebel shivered a little as the shawl settled on her shoulders, lifting its edge to her gaze with trembling hands. The entire surface was like a portal into a kaleidoscope world of many-coloured forms and patterns. Every angle of it showed a new parallax of hue, even as she moved. “Thank you,” she said, feeling oddly exposed under the cover of a garment so bright, “Grandfather.”

Grandfather.

That was a title that the Monarch of All did not think that He would have heard from the likes of someone whom He felt had been wronged. He froze, unable to know what to think of the word, unable to accept family from someone so below His station. Family had been forfeit for Him since He had taken up the name and station that was the Monarch of All. Yet He spoke not against the word- ‘Grandfather’- truly not knowing what to say. He knew not of whether or not to consider Ea Nebel as family, as He knew not of whether or not to even consider the gods themselves as His family. The Monarch of All rose away from Ea Nebel and spoke to Her.

”I- I shall be watching over you, Ea Nebel.”

For her part, she could only nod, and then, of course, curtsy. It would soon be time for her to depart.

And so the Monarch of All returned to His hall and climbed atop the Jade Throne with a troubled brow. Finally, He cleared his mind, and called out, "Arvum, your works have not gone unnoticed; you, who Taught Man to Toil, are to be honored. I would give offer unto you a courtyard in my own palace, if only you will cultivate it into a worthy garden. And Zenia, Soul of Joy, I would like to see you in these troubled times."






In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Four Questions


Know this my kin; know this tale of our lords, our creators. I have traveled far to give you this story.

There once was a tribe, a great tribe, whose lands spread far and its herds knew no bounds and their mountains stood above all others. Their opulence was unmatched and the gifts to their allies were grander than any dwarf could even imagine. For all this grandeur, one flaw made itself clear to all who knew of them and all who heard of them; their greed was one to surpass any boundary for they were determined to keep their wealth and hoard it away from all. The tribe hid away their wealth in mountainside caves, only coming out with their herds to allow them to graze along some mountainside patches. They turned away the downtrodden, the beleaguered, and kicked away their own tribesmen for not having anything to offer to the tribe.

This was the life of the Four-Top Tribe, one of greed so consuming that at times they barely resembled a tribe for even the children were taught to have it out for themselves. The way of life drove away potential allies and traders, but the Four-Top cared little, so long as they held their hoards and herds, they were content to be isolated upon their mountains. Eventually, their friends drifted away and people stopped coming to their lands altogether for so self-consumed they were. “Wretches,” they’d be called, “Paupers,” they’d respond, even by those who cared about them most would all disappear. This did little to open their eyes, even if they had, some say that it would not have changed their fate.

One day, as the sun looked over the mountain and the winter’s breath began to caress the mountainside, there came a stranger who was haggard and without wealth. He wore a cloak that hid his form, hid his face with the exception of a long, graying beard that extended well past his chest. The stranger beseeched them for nothing more than a place to rest his head, somewhere where the cold would not bite at him and where he could warm himself. Each of the Four-Top sent him away, out into the cold and surely to die by night when the all-consuming frost came. Meanwhile, they sat by their fires, warm and relaxed, not even a thought of the old dwarf who had come to visit them had dared to cross their minds.

The next day, the haggard dwarf came back once more and, to their surprise, he had no sign of black toes or fingers; the frost had seemingly done nothing to him. They believed that the aging man had simply found a place to stay for the night tucked away from the deadly frost. When the haggard dwarf spoke once more, he asked them but naught but some wool so that he may make his cloak warmer so that the chills would not bother him and he could sleep more comfortably at night. Again, each of the Four-Tops refused him and this time said that if he wanted more wool then he would have had his own herds. Again, the haggard dwarf left and they believed that this time he might die to the frost as it crept through their mountains. They knew that none could survive twice out in the exposed mountains; death would come in time and rid them of a nuisance.

For the third day, that same haggard dwarf came back without a mark on his cloak, not seeming as if the frost had come for him in the slightest. They asked him how he survived the frost but he would not answer their question, for he did not wish to give his secrets despite their pleading. Instead, he asked if he could drink from their river to patch his thirst and then he would tell them how he survived the deadly cold. Once more, the Four-Peaks refused for the dwarf was not one of them and so he would not partake of their water, for which they had plenty. Again, the haggard one left surely this time to die of dehydration, the ultimate killer, for none could live without water.

Yet once more, for the fourth day, the haggard dwarf came back to them, this time with anger and heartache within his voice. Before they could ask how he survived the night again, he asked them for nothing but the scraps of their food, so that he may eat and then be gone from their sight. This time the Four-Tops all considered letting the haggard one have some of their food. Had they changed their hearts at this old dwarf’s persistence? All the same, though, they would each turn him away. He roared at them in anger, not for himself, not for being rejected, but for not taking kindness upon an old weary soul that would have died without shelter, in the cold, and without drink or food. He raged against them before he told them that he would have given them the riches of the gods had they once accepted his pleas of salvation.

It was only then that they fell to their knees seeking forgiveness, begging him to give them the riches and that they would become the best people that he had ever known. But it was too late and instead would look upon them with disgust in his eye before telling them that Voligan had made a mistake in making them. This wrought confusion and fear from the Four-Tops who continued to plead to the rich dwarf, even as His eyes began to glow and as He spoke to them one final time.

It was there that He said, ”You know only greed, it has tainted your souls and made you calloused to the sufferings of the weak. So, you shall walk this planet forever more, food will turn to ash, water will be dried, clothes ripped at the seams, and the frost shall forever follow you. Let it be known that the Four-Tops will be nothing more than wandering spirits who will never satisfy their wants and desires.”

And so, the Four-Tops were cursed to wander Galbar forever as spirits, the dead wanting nothing more than to merely live once again. Their own greed had blinded them, made them think that they were above the sufferings of others and now they paid for it. Listen well kinsman! Know that greed is a curse and should we see a poor downtrodden soul, we should reach out and help should they ask! For it is the great Sun God that watches over our every action!


In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Cycle 2








It was a dark day over the storming seas of the Galbar, a day so dark that it seemed to consume the very lands of Voligan. A dark miasma threatened the lands with inescapable dark clouds and yet, its source was constantly shifting, always on the move. From Termina to the outer banks of Thousand Lakes and Orsus, the clouds seemed to concentrate to blot out the Divine Palace from view. Panic struck mortals, animals whipped into desperate frenzy knew what the darkness meant, and plants refused to bloom. A battle was coming and the Galbar itself seemed to know as the inner mantle of the planet seemed to echo with battle cries.

Yet, there would be no battle this day, not as long as the great sea serpent was still hunting its elusive quarry, a constant game of cat and mouse. It was a tedious frenzy of movement, the oceans themselves churning as the great war beast of the Monarch of All refused to relent and the Pariah refused to be caught. However, up in the Divine Palace, the Monarch of All sat upon His throne and gazed down upon the growing darkness. He saw that darkness swirled over the world and He could not help but feel the need to investigate where His new enemy had decided to come from. So, the Monarch of All stood from the Jade Throne and opened the bridge once more, yet, he did not step through it.

The Monarch of All hesitated in stepping upon the Galbar, not out of fear or threat of the great Pariah that distantly loomed, but of the sight that He came upon. He saw a mountain range, Serendipity’s End, and could nearly gaze upon the gravesite that had been erected for Asheleven. It seemed that He was right to chastise Yudaiel when He had, but He knew that, in a sense, He had essentially killed off a part of Himself as all the gods were an extension of His very being, whether they liked it or not. The murder of Asheleven was nothing more than Him continuing to weaken and deteriorate; the wound ached at the thought. Worse yet, He could see that the shard of Luck, the very being of Asheleven, was not something that He could recover as the shard had been smashed and ground to dust compared to Him; now it was nothing but bloody diamonds scattered across the mountains.

Finally mustering the strength to step into the graveyard, the Monarch let loose a single breath as the lands parted beneath Him once more, forming a great stairwell that descended into the dark rock below. He continued walking, taking His time to inspect the walls as He descended before turning and making a long hallway that stretched beyond what would be the horizon of the planet. The Monarch of All came upon a sphere, one that was sinister and imposing, yet shined as if it were made of onyx. At a time before the gods, He had once thought it had been impenetrable, unable to be opened from the inside, and yet, here He was, gazing upon a part of the sphere that had been shattered and broken.

To think that such a seal could be broken by the likes of nothing more than a mere beast of war. The Monarch hated the thought, but knew that He had to come to terms with such a fact that the seal had indeed been broken. Though, He noted that the cracks had formed along the outside of the cage, not fully penetrating the onyx sphere; the gods in making Galbar had weakened the structure. The Monarch of All reared His head back and let loose a call to the gods, His divine will being carried by the very winds themselves.

”Homura, Highest Judge of the Monarch, I ask of you look to maintain the law of my realm, ensure that none dare break the bounds the tie us. Chailiss, whose Breath bears Icy Winds, make known that Homura’s judgement reaches all should she say so.”

The Monarch of All let loose a breath before looking to the ground and seeing the great tracks left behind by the beast, the pariah, and decided to look to where it led. He saw that it led straight up, He needed not track where it went, however, as He had already fought and sent a hound after the beast. Yet, He knew it to be better safe than to regret it later, but He was no hunter tracking a quarry to the ends of the planet. His voice became quiet, only carried by the softest winds so that no other would be able to hear His message.

”Tuku, my Master of the Hunt, I require your aid.”




In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
The Pariah and the Serpent




The throne felt cold as the Monarch of All continued to gaze out upon the Galbar, occasionally shifting over to the moon that had been crafted by Yudaiel, only to then inevitably stare upon the spot where Ao-Yurin had been struck down by His hand. Two clawed hands ran themselves over the armrests of the Jade throne, causing a high pitched scraping sound to resonate throughout the empty palace halls. It had never occurred to Him what it would feel like with the weight of murder upon His shoulders, He had never considered such a thing before, but in the moment, be had thought it to be an act of kindness to end Ao-Yurin’s suffering. The thoughts weighed upon the Monarch of All as He continued to gaze upon that spot, yet, He knew that inaction would continue to perpetuate the feeling that was gnawing upon His soul.

With a sigh, the Monarch of All stood from His throne and opened the bridge to the Galbar, stepping forth until His feet stood atop the calm waters of the oceans. There was nothing but the open seas, even the horizon displayed nothing more than the creation of a now dead god, save for the occasional hole that had been brought about by Ruina’s hand. The Monarch of All looked down upon the ocean, seeing through the waves with perfect clarity, seeing the fish go about their meager lives and the reefs that occasionally dotted the sea floor. Yet, there was a further darkness deeper into the seas, one that was impenetrable even to His own absolute and indomitable gaze. Normally, nothing on the Galbar could hide from His sight, however, this darkness did not seem to be normal and appeared to be the antithesis of His divine light. He already knew what that meant, for there were few things that could have brought one of His subjects so low.

The Monarch of All dove into the water, His body compressing into that of a terrifying creature: an elongated snout filled with teeth gave way to a rotund body, six flippers dotted its sides, and a tail longer than any whale propelled His new form. The great tail swaying back forth sent the Monarch of All deeper and deeper, coming towards that impenetrable darkness that His gaze could not seem to move through. Then, with a sudden turn, the Monarch of All began to circle the darkness, knowing that it was not all-encompassing amongst the sea floor, before one of His eyes focused on the darkness and noticed that while He was looking at the darkness, it too was looking upon Him. It was a hideous creature, one that ate all the light that touched it and spat out the hideous fumes that coalesced around it. Such a sickening display brought nothing but hatred and anger to the Monarch of All, and He knew at that moment that He must strike first before the beast attacked.

The form of the Monarch of All’s beastial form turned and launched itself at the beast, though He had not expected the creature to launch a counterattack. Smoke billowed into the glowing eyes of the Monarch, causing the supreme god to veer off His course and slam into the sandy bottom of the ocean. However, such tricks were little more than a nuisance to such a being like the Monarch of All, who launched Himself at the monster, His teeth clamping down upon its arm and ushering it to release a bellow of pain. The smoke became deeper and blocked more light, but the Monarch would not lose His grip upon the being, not while He had it right where he wanted it. Then, a force only capable of being produced by another divine slammed into the top of bestial form, dazing the great Monarch of All and forcing him loose before a hand grabbed the back of His head and threw Him back.

Transforming back to His true form and reorienting himself, the Monarch of All let out a snarl to the creature, disgust and an anger unseen filling the air.

”So, you finally show yourself, pariah. I am impressed you show such strength.”

Yet, the beast bellowed out yet more of its black smoke as it spoke back to the supreme god, definitely responding in a low guttural tone and in a tongue unknown to reality, as the Monarch of All had decreed it. Then, it launched itself upon the ruler, who caught the beast as the two flew through the oceans, each moment that passed the two beings hitting each other with such force as to cause miniature earthquakes and pockets of the ocean to temporarily recede before collapsing back in upon itself. For a moment, the Monarch of All seemed to gain the upper hand in the bout, as one his clawed hands dug itself into the skin of the beast and spilt ichor into the ocean, choking out life and blacking out the sun. The creature responded in kind by slamming a fist into the Monarch of All’s side, causing the deity to buckle before the supreme deity grasped onto its arm and flung into the ground with such force as to split the very ground in twain.

Unrelenting, the Monarch of All advanced at such speed that the water parted before Him and when He impacted the creature, a great explosion ruptured the ground even further. Yet, such a blow was not enough to fell a creature made with divine intention, as the blackened monster loosed yet another wail and leapt upon the Monarch of All, and the battle continued, the two fighting their way towards the surface, striking and knocking each other all the while as more dark ichor spilled into seas. Then, the creature sent a mighty shock into the Monarch of All, delivering a punch into the great wound upon the chest of the Monarch, causing the divine being to recoil and gasp for air that He did not need. Staggering backward, the Monarch of All grasped at His chest, feeling as if He were unable to breath.

The creature advanced, but with all the energy the Monarch of All could muster, He sent the palms of two His hands into the beast’s chest, sending it flying backward. He hunched over, tracing the edge of His wound, expecting the creature to mindlessly come and attack Him once more. Yet, it did not come as He had expected and He waited and waited, until He had regained His breath and when His vision was no longer blurred. The great Monarch of All let out a pain groan as He straightened himself, looking to the horizon from where the pariah had been found to.

With a hiss, the Monarch of All looked to His chest to see a singular trickle of blood roaming down towards His abdomen. He took a single claw to it, dragging some of His divine essence to His eyes and merely gazing upon the sight of such divine ichor, the life blood of all that existed upon Galbar. Anger resonated as He looked upon the blood for He was immortal, how could it be that such a being of perfection as Himself could be brought so low by nothing more than a mere beast of burden. The anger boiled over as He let loose a scream into the air, nails digging into balled fists that brought out yet more of the divine ichor that now openly fell into the waters below Him.

As He loosed his cry of pain and anger, a small sea serpent came across the divine substance but knew better than to touch the blood. Yet, the serpent, flicking its tongue, could taste the poison left behind by the beast that had fought the lord of everything. It saw the devastation of its hunting grounds and now the pain of a god. Wanting to better serve the great Master of All, the small, but determined, sea snake turned back to the divine substance and threw itself into it. The serpent felt the divine ichor surge through it, driving it to become more than it was. Its body grew and grew, enough to swallow a whale then to more than two, then larger enough to fit a mountain but its slender back.

Two frontal legs sprouted from the limbless form, giant gliding wings erupted on either side of the great beast, and tendrils swayed from the beast’s chin. With a maw of middle filled teeth, the serpent looked upon the Monarch of All gazing upon its master before it bowed its head out of obedience and respect for the ruler of the gods.

The Monarch of All looked down at the serpent, feeling His anger leave Him for a moment before folding His arms behind His back.

”You are a brave little creature, serpent. For that I shall reward you; first with a name, Zhongcheng, and secondly, with a task.”

The Monarch of All paused in thought as the bridge to the Divine Palace opened behind Him, the Heavens in full view for Zhongcheng to see just passed his master. It was a beauty that no true mortal had seen, and yet, the beast knew not beauty or grace for he could only comprehend the great supreme one and his orders.

”Find the pariah, track it to wherever it has decided to crawl to. Then, let loose a roar to the heavens and summon me.”

With those orders, the Monarch of All turned and walked through the bridge, leaving the beast to its hunt



In The Grim Crusade - A Warhammer 30000 RP → 3 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Malcador is Slightly Irritated
[After the Second Meeting]



Malcador led the procession of superhumans, his older frame seemingly unhindered as he moved to a room of his choosing. Unlike his master’s previous audience with the Magos of the Mechanicum, he didn’t bother dismissing those present, simply selecting a quiet enough corridor before turning on his heel to face the Primarchs. Angered orbs bored into each of their skulls, and he took a deep breath before he let himself talk.

‘What, pray tell,’ he spoke severely, ‘are each of you thinking when you make death threats to your siblings and their guests? Accusing one another of treason is one thing, serious an accusation as that is to throw about; but whilst I may normally turn an eye to wrothful talk, this is I need remind you a formal gathering. We are here to consider the evidence, not beat at one another with words or with fists as children might in a Schola. Especially a human of relatively limited ability to fight back, Augor.’ This last spear was particularly pointed, considering the content.

“The evidence is already clear. Eiohsa and her Astartes are traitors. Micholi has also made his intent clear. The Sixteenth in particular is already in breach of the Imperial Truth and the laws set down by The Emperor. They only still live because you and The Emperor refuse to enforce your own laws, as you would have and have done against me - on Engraila.” Nimue said, blandly to Malcador. She and him had little to no interactions with each other, so she saw him as just an adept close to The Emperor. Closer than her, though.

“Sigilite, the record is and shall be clear upon review.” Augor stated, face shaded a peculiar, faintly yellow-hue offset against his otherwise ashen complexion. “I began our discourse with a dispassionate and rational call to a reasoned discourse and consensus. Time and time again, the same malfeasant actors have plied their every effort to turn the discourse away from the actual matter at hand.” He threw one of his bionic hands in a wild gesture back towards the chamber door. “The Council is convened for a particularized purpose and they wish to discuss instead evading and redrafting the Imperial Truth. It is precisely as I said - there is a point past which the privilege afforded to them exceeds the boundaries of what should be permissible and verges onto betrayal. There are countless billions of Human souls that will bear witness to these proceedings, and as crass as my reaction was, worse still would it be to permit the impression that egregious dissent and rejection of the Imperial Truth is permissible. My conscience is clear, and I stand by everything I said.” His voice, if tense, was firm and unapologetic.

Usriel remained silent, his hands firmly behind his back as his helmeted view seemed to go past Malcador without any true explanation behind his words to Ayushmatki. It became clear after a moment of silence that Usriel would not speak as his siblings had.

Malcador’s expression slackened slightly as he looked to Usriel. He knew well that the Primarch didn’t like him very much, and perhaps to grant him the same harsh talk as those truly speaking death to their allies was not so equitable.

‘I shall say, Usriel, your efforts to maintain balance are recognised too,’ he soothed, for what it was worth. ‘But, as was just stated by the Emperor, the mass of humanity is important to ensure its own perpetuation. Outright wishing for their death is not especially helpful.

‘Nor, to be clear,’ he added, returning to his harsher tone, ‘is suggesting outright that you will slaughter them for speaking in turn. I would not say to do so is particularly rational, Augor, and no more so to suggest your fellow Primarchs ought to be killed too, Nimue. And, in case you are overly worried,’ he precisely noted to them both, ‘those actions of theirs which go against the Imperium’s dictates have been noted, and are being countermanded as we speak. To simply kill them is to turn their full forces against the Imperium; these are not costs we can safely incur at such a time.’

“Sigillite - I of course trust the measures you take beyond our knowing, and if this is what you claim then I must take you at your word…” Augor began cautiously. “Though I hope you will find my doubts as to their sufficiency forgivable. Countless billions of Adepts. Hundreds of Millions of Tech-Priests. Can you fathom have many revolts, how many rebellions and calls for dissent will go out once the words of these…” He seemed to struggle for a moment before continuing. “...once their words are issued? Can you calculate the number of Priests of the Cult Mechanicum within whom the seed of doubt shall be planted by the Emperor refusing to speak or issue his word despite the deliberate invocation of multiple Primarchs? How many Heretek Savants and Aspirants may have just been born? How many of the Edicted Xenos will take this as signal to rise up? If there is something you know of that we do not that could assuage our fears, I beg of you, in the name of my father, tell us.”

“Augor, your fears are born of a paranoia that I understand, a fear all too present in my own mind. However,” Usriel started, turning to face his brother, “They are not of the faith. They do not understand. You know as well as I do, that they do not know what is to go against what we believe. They are not bound as you are and I am sure a great many priests know this.”

Nimue said nothing. Unlike the others, her concerns with the Imperial Truth were not based on conflicting beliefs she already possessed - or, at least, not entirely. She had already said her part, there was nothing left to say.

‘Please understand, both of you,’ Malcador began explaining, forcing his tone to level out. ‘The Emperor always has reasons to pursue action when he does. If he has been invoked and does not speak- which, I dare say, it is highly presumptuous to assume that he will always speak when called upon, for he is a wolf rather than any dog- then it is likely that he is waiting for the right moment, which of course was displayed with Prometheus’ subsequent statements.

‘And far beyond simply the Cult Mechanicum, there are humans, unmodified humans, those ruling planets and keeping the Emperor’s assets as well as those in their immediate and not-so-immediate employ, who will see these events, and wonder how safe they are when the leaders of humanity’s conquest threaten individuals who are, by their perspective, rather similar to themselves. Not to mention those who will inevitably find this broadcast when they ought not, and feel as if the Legiones are being led by... well, less than rational warriors, shall I say.’

Malcador folded his hands together, looking over the trio before him. ‘You are all rational, I hope? Because I would hope you’d be happier to show that rationality to all and sundry.’

“I have done nothing but show rationality throughout the debates, Sigilite,” Usriel began in a cold tone as his gaze went back to Malcador, “The serf of Primarch Eiohsa had spoken as if Saravata can be trusted, to which I am sure we all know it cannot. If she wished to spout facts then she’d better look to sources that can immediately be approved by the Administratum.” His voice grew colder as he had spoken to the right hand of the Emperor, his red gaze burrowing into the man before turned away from Malcador.

“Know that the human will know her place,” Usriel finished.

“If it is irrational to state the obvious, that Eiohsa breaks laws where others would be punished immediately and harshly, then I would gladly be irrational,” Nimue stated.

“As far as I am aware, Nimue, Eiohsa is a Primarch. She is not above reproach, however, she is able to dictate as she pleases so long as it furthers the Imperium,” Usriel snapped in a blunt coldness, turning his head to his sister.

“Is that so, brother? Then I suppose, my faith too, should be permitted to once again be open to practice… so long as it furthers the imperium, of course. Is that what you are saying?”

“There is no religion other than that of the Machine Cult as decreed by the Emperor.” Usriel retorted.

“Yes, by the Imperial Truth. Which Eiohsa is actively breaking right now. So? Which is it? Is Eiohsa permitted to breach the Imperial Truth because it furthers the Imperium, or is she not because the Emperor’s decree says what she is doing is illegal?”

“Eiohsa is bound by the Imperial Truth and the Edict of Tolerance, as it currently stands she is following the Edict,” Usriel stated.

“Have you even read the Imperial Truth, brother? Did you even hear Eiohsa’s Equerry?” Nimue stated in disbelief.

“Do you accuse me of being ignorant of what my post entails, Nimue? As much as I hate to state it, that serf has yet to do anything wrong other than speak words that you disagree with,” Usriel began.

“The Imperial Truth, as decreed by The Emperor, clearly states the superiority of the human race by virtue of its purity, its right to rule the galaxy, above all others. Eiohsa, through her Equerry, rejects these claims. The Edict of Tolerance does not negate the superiority of man, it only permits the continued existence of the Xenos. Her realm ignores the Imperial Truth entirely, in fact, I would not be surprised if she permitted religious beliefs within her realm as well, I would not be surprised if she consorts with Orks and Eldar in secret, or hoards abominable intelligence. Her Equerry has openly denounced the Imperial Truth and seeks its ‘reform’. How can you be so blind?” Nimue stated, quickly glancing down to the device her Equerry had passed her before leaving the Council Hall, a holographic projector that Nimue activated, and so provided a projection of the Imperial Truth in written form to Usriel and Malcador, shocked that the two of them could be so blind to their own laws and absolute decrees that The Emperor forces on all others.

“If you believe me to be blind then strike me now, for clearly I am without sight, Nimue,” Usriel growled, before continuing, “The Sigillite knows best of us what it means to uphold the Imperial Truth, for he was with the Emperor when it was proclaimed, and he has stated that such matters to correct this behavior are being undergone. The next time you spout this nonsense upon me, I will show Malcador what irrationality is.”

Nimue flares her psyker aura, in preparation for battle, if necessary. She was not surprised - she had suspected for some time that Usriel secretly held stronger beliefs in this regard than he seemed at first, publicly. In truth - she knew Usriel was not ignorant of the Imperial Truth, it was impossible for any Primarch to be so. In reality, it seemed rather that he was in agreement with Eiohsa and Micholi, only he hid behind the pretense of nuance and neutrality.

‘Nimue. Usriel.’ Malcador’s voice projected between the two Primarchs sternly, not an ounce of fear in it. ‘Much as I wish not to tell you again, the discussion of the Edict of Tolerance is precisely why the War Council has been convened. Whether or not it contradicts the Imperial Truth is what you have gathered to discuss - ideally, without infighting such as this.’ Malcador sighed to himself, shaking his head. He knew the Primarchs were strong-minded, that was a given; yet, handling their outbursts remained ever a challenge. ‘Just understand this, all three of you. You are not- I reiterate, you are NOT- to threaten to fight or kill each other or any humans present at the conclave for its remainder. If it happens again, I will be forced to remove you from the hall for the conclave’s remaining duration to ensure peaceable proceedings- and before anyone complains of unfairness, I shall be informing the other Primarchs of this ruling too, and subjecting them to similar reprimand if they fail to follow through. Are we all clear?’

“Remove me from the conclave if necessary, I care not.” Nimue said in casual defiance. “This council is a farce regardless of my presence. The Emperor already knows of all we would provide to him. He very likely has already made his decision, and is simply weighing our reactions. He now knows, so let it be over with.” Nimue said.

Usriel’s voice came through, clear and concise, “Very well, Sigillite.” The Nineteenth’s gaze did not falter from Nimue as his metallic feet scraped against the floor whilst he exited the chamber, leaving his brother and sister with the likes of Malcador.

“Sigillite, there is actually a matter that bears clarification and which may address all of our exact concerns.” Augor spoke, breaking his bout of silence. “You claim now, in our presence, that the purpose of this Council is to discuss whether or not the Edict of Tolerance contradicts the Imperial Truth.” He then folded his hands and deliberately allowed a moment to pause as that statement settled.

“You claimed no such thing when you officially convened the Council. No such declaration of intent was ever issued by you, or by any other office to that matter, to any of the legions…that we know of.” The final three words contained a trembling and insidious air to them, but just as swiftly as they came they went, and Augor carried on.

“Which is to say, amongst other implications, all of the Legions and the Primarchs present at the Council have been speaking around and about the Edict of Tolerance generally. This is the first time its relationship with the Imperial Truth has been brought to a head, though it was mentioned during the first discussion. I would invite you to elaborate upon this fascinating qualification you have just made - though if you do not see a need to do so, I in turn shall be pleased to return to the Council Hall and present it before all of our siblings in your stead.” He cast his empty eyes down at Malcador, his countenance almost serene.

As the Primarch that first brought upon the topic of the Imperial Truth’s contradiction with the Edict of Tolerance, or at least in how it was applied by some… “I am not all that surprised,” Nimue said, a snide remark on the sidelines. She already knew this Council was a farce, after all.

Malcador tilted his head for a moment, as if thinking back to his statements, before blinking and smiling with apparent amusement, and giving out just the lightest chuckle. ‘You are indeed correct, Augor Astren. In the aftermath of so much discussion of that very matter already, I appear to have misremembered when it was first mentioned, and I apologise for that. I am only human, after all.’

‘To re-clarify then,’ he elaborated, ‘the Edict’s contradiction of the Imperial Truth is not, per se, the primary topic; rather, the Edict’s existence, and whether it need be altered or nullified, is as stated in convening periods the main concern, though of course there have been claims as part of that discussion wherein it is cited to contradict the Imperial Truth outright. If you wish to input further evidence of this latter matter,’ he added, ‘you are of course free to do so when the topic comes around again.’

“Then I shall,” Augor replied, his voice conversational but his stance combative. “...and I shall submit as evidence your very word. I shall take care to qualify the scope of the discussion as you have now, of course, and so soon all those partaking in these talks shall treat them in a rather different light. I do not know what game you are playing Sigillite, though it would seem I am now fated to be your instrument in it. Know that all the lives that shall be lost as a consequence of the Imperium writ large viewing these proceedings are as much upon your hands now as they are upon ours.”

‘The conclave is designed to minimise loss of life, Augor,’ Malcador concluded. ‘Lives are bound to be lost nonetheless, and my hands are already soaked with blood simply by virtue of managing the Imperium. As are yours, you see, by virtue of your role as leader of the Stargazers Legion.’ He walked past Augor and Nimue.



”...Do you want to hear the lesson I learned from the Age of Strife, dear sister?” Micholi said, his voice low. Augor stared on blindly, impassively, his arms folded as the Primarch of the Second Legion finished speaking. Truthfully, Augor did not approve of Micholi speaking in response to an inquiry that had been directed to their father - but he did not want to discourage the Second Primarch’s pursuit of discourse that, at long last, did not implicitly tread upon father’s station and status. Father would object if and when he had to.

Nimue was scarcely even paying attention to Micholi by that point - her face, cast over with dismay, was instead directed at their father. Augor Astren did not turn to look with her - he still was not yet worthy to meet father’s gaze. But with sight beyond sight, the Twelfth Primarch still beheld the Emperor peripherally.

Their Father did not meet her gaze - he continued to stare, serenely and dispassionately, at the overall layout of the Council Chamber. Not focused with particularity, yet still sharp and encompassing. Seeing all, but only affording every detail with equal notice.

“Why are you silent?” Nimue asked, her tone veering even further towards indignation. “Why will you not defend your own decrees from such obvious subversion?”

Augor’s lips once more began to pull into a frown as he cast his focus between his sister and his father - and took note that Micholi had also turned, directing his argument directly towards their father as if he were now presenting his argument to an arbitrator. He still faced Nimue, but even Augor could see where the Second Primarch’s attention was being drawn.

“The humanity of the Dark Age of Technology didn’t fall due to weakness Nimue.” Micholi began. “In fact, it was rather powerful. It fell because it was cut off from itself. It’s planets divided, unable to travel or talk to ea-”

“Shut up, Micholi.” Nimue snarled. “I am not arguing the tenets of the Imperial Truth with you. You are not its creator. Its decrees only come from him.” She pointed to father, the urgency of the gesture almost violent in its intensity. Augor, for his part, was glad for her crass interjection. He recalled some several decades past when he and Micholi had been speaking of ancient history, and of the Dark Age of Technology. Micholi evidently styled himself as something of a historical scholar - but he had still possessed his tendencies to draw conclusions and seek knowledge that was expressly forbidden. Augor had been almost certain the fool was about to say something adjacent to the discussion that would pry them all off-topic once more, until Nimue had deprived him of the option.

“Very well then.” Augor was almost taken aback when Micholi acceded to Nimue’s directing of the conversation. The Second Primarch had a wary and tired air to him, one that had evidently been weighing down upon him since the start of the Council. He was normally irrepressibly confident and buoyant in demeanor. But despite how the Council had afflicted his disposition, in that moment, the Second Primarch seemed to recoup his regular well of resolve as he turned to face their father. “I can agree with you that now, if ever, the Emperor should make his opinion heard.”

It was genuinely startling to Augor. Micholi was wholly confident the Emperor would support him in this matter, even in light of all the omens to the contrary. Even when his enemies and rivals appealed directly to his father’s authority - as Augor himself had - the Second Primarch kept his faith, and in that single moment the Twelfth Primarch saw a single facet of himself reflected in his brother.

Almost imperceptibly, to a degree that almost certainly went unnoticed as almost all attention in the room was drawn towards the Emperor, Augor Astren flinched. It was nearly an unconscious epiphany - the direction of his own genetic gifts directing his sight beyond sight to reveal truth unseen without him even consciously desiring to do so. For a single moment he saw himself and Micholi standing, in the same light, united with an identical expression of unconditional faith. The direction of that faith differed, but insidiously, a strikingly resonant crack of thought burst from Augor’s brow as he beheld the relationship.

’Both set instances are identical in configuration, but the predicate independent variable of at least one of those instances is false.’

A coiling chill seemed to spiral up and around the Twelfth Primarch’s spine at that realization. In almost all matters of his own faith, the only thing necessary to affirm their inviolate veracity was the certainty that it was what father willed. The Imperial Truth stood as a blazing monolith of ineffable writ in his mind, imperishable and near to the heart of every consideration and decision he made - and that was as it had to be, for it was his father’s will, manifest…

...So why did his father remain silent?

That recreant, shivering silence crept into Augor’s mind like a serpent and coiled suffocatingly around his resolve. All that was required for Augor or, indeed, any of HIS truest followers was the affirmation of his will. The Twelfth Primarch and the Cult Mechanicum could always find this certainty in the shape and form of the Emperor’s writ and decrees - but here, in this moment, when his will was challenged by his own children, Augor felt a stabbing hollow in his heart of a sensation he had never before known, save for once.

Doubt.


Augor could not help himself. He turned his unworthy, empty sight directly towards the Emperor, his father, the Omnissiah - aware that as he did so, so too did every other soul in the chamber. The assembled lords, the Remembrancers, the retinues of every Astartes Legion, even Malcador himself - all turning their attention, as one, to the master of the Imperium in anticipation of an answer.

Choking, crushing silence followed. The Emperor did not move, did not so much as permit his brow or expression to shift. Even his gaze, the scope of his notice, did not waver. He might have been a statue, still and silent as he remained when invoked.

The wedge that had been thrust into Augor’s heart widened, poisonous uncertainty riddling through his mind, pouring through channels that had never known it save for a single instant before, in the Primarch’s darkest hour. As Augor beheld the Emperor and his silence, memories came to the Primarch, unbidden and bearing daggers.

Memory of the Rangdan Campaign. Memory of his children, broken and dying. Memory of flame and blood, of ships splintering apart in the void, of hideous alien forms as cruel in their shape as in their mocking, inhuman laughter.

Augor took to one knee - or was it a saving motion to account for the sudden weakness, the abrupt frailty and emptiness he felt in every limb, in every joint, a hollow and cold cord of frigid attenuation running through every fiber of his being?

In desperation, Augor clasped his hands together over his breast in the sign of the Cog Mechanicum, and hoarsely, he whispered.

”...Omnissiah…Deliver us...”

In the haze that followed, Augor remained on his knee, strugglingly ardently endeavoring to find strength and affirment in his father’s serene countenance. He remained peripherally aware of the words of his brother Prometheus as he interjected, Augor’s heightened senses and mind effortlessly registering and compartmentalizing everything without the Twelfth Primarch truly listening to what was being said. The Fifth Primarch’s sentiments were hollow-sounding, feeble rationale to explain the irrational, much as the entire Council was, much as -

’...Betrayal!’ The twisted, indignant accusation scythed through Augor’s mind reflexively even before the remainder of the blasphemous thought could form. The shade of treachery was banished into the furthest reaches of his mind by the sudden crusade he waged within himself as he wordlessly closed his gaping, empty eyes and meditated in the moment upon his failings and hubris. There could be no doubt, there could be no uncertainty, there could be no weakness - these were things he had to excise from his being. For his father. He did not have to question the Emperor, the Omnissiah and their motives, their actions, or lack thereof. The truth itself was manifest and imperishable already, in word, writ, and will. That Augor had allowed himself to be shaken by his father’s silence was not a failing of the Emperor, but of himself. Nothing more than disappointment from the improvident son-

“Prometheus speaks wisdom, my children.”


The world fell away. Augor’s sight beyond sight turned upon the Twelfth Primarch, casting the world into darkness as it lashed and railed against the bastions of his mind.

Betrayal! BETRAYAL! BETRAYAL! Blasphemer! Weak, soundless scion, least and lowest of all twenty wayward children! Most piteous, feebleminded, craven fiend to blemish creation! Sickening, twisted cripple! Infidel! Traitor!

HERETEK!


Almost imperceptibly, Augor quivered where he knelt on the chamber floor. Pain bloomed within his brow. Unaccountable, untenable anguish that transcended mere mortal injury. A dissonant wracking, self-castigation and flagellation as the Twelfth Primarch’s mind turned in on itself once more. Bewildered and lost within his own senses, even as he damned and cursed himself with every fiber of his own loathing that he could muster, he struggled to determine why, how he had been reduced to this. Contemptuously, the answer came from within a corner of himself replete with disgust - with himself, and with the obviousness of how he had lain himself low in self-defeat.

He could not be wrong, and the Emperor right in this instance.

Either they were both wrong or they were both right.

Necessarily, the Emperor was correct and right, and this was proper.

But factually, doctrinally, Augor Astren was wrong.

In the preceding moments Augor had proven himself the infidel by arriving at the incorrect conclusion - a revelation which came from the lips of the Omnissiah himself. Yet the conclusion itself had been vested in the infallibility and infinite nature of the Omnissiah and his will. The Omnissiah embodied the mortal aspect of the Machine God. His mortal frame and flesh were fallible, but his mind and will was that of the Machine God, a conduit for divinity itself, and that was immaculate in nature. Augor Astren was either damned for rejecting the Omnissiah’s inherent divinity or else he was damned for rejecting the word of the Omnissiah.

Straightforward reason dictated that the Omnissiah could not be wholly wrong and wholly right simultaneously, nor could he simultaneously utter unblemished truth or unstrained falsehood. The Omnissiah was capable of deceit, certainly, but in this instant, speaking as he was as to his own capabilities and state, there was no reason for him to contradict himself -

’Unless it is all a - ‘

The thought was stamped out and crushed in by the legions of incoherent hatred coursing inside Augor Astren’s mind. He was wrong and the Emperor was right. Nothing more and nothing less, and no notion to the contrary - no matter how self-evident - could be permitted. If such notions were as axiomatic as they seemed, it was only because of a failing of the self. The designs of the Omnissiah were not for Augor Astren to know, and if some manner of the Omnissiah’s spoken word drove the Twelfth Primarch to blasphemy, that was a failing of the child, not of the father.

Managing to draw his concentration back, his insides still riddled with self-directed scorn, Augor endeavored to reaffirm himself by saying as much.

“Brother -” He began, and then realized he was still knelt down on the floor, both of his bionic hands seeming to strain in their tense, coiled gesture of the cog. As the entire room directed their notice back to him, he self-consciously rose once more and began to voice the only sane - the only tenable conclusion that he could draw.

“If the Omniss-” His voice halted, and he started over. “...As the Emperor has declined to speak on this matter, we can only be left with the conclusion that he permitted it to come to fruition for some purpose, even knowing that it contradicts the Imperial Truth…” The words tumbled from his mouth gracelessly, the fervor that would normally have accompanied them now absent, his voice now almost seeming hesitant - though buffered on by the volume and immensity of his form, their frailty was likely lost to most of the onlookers. “...Understand I do not seek to make light of your call or these deliberations, but to suggest that perhaps how the Imperial Truth and the Edict of Tolerance are meant to align, if at all, is not for us to know.”

He had said something similar many times before in the past.

So why was it, only now, that the words seemed to ring hollow in his own ears?

Lightly fettered and untamed rancor coiled like a tumor in Augor Astren’s chest. This reticence could not be permitted. It was tantamount to betrayal. He had to prove his devotion, his loyalty, his very faith to his father -

The Equerry of the Sixteenth Legion spoke.

The rancor within Augor Astren became unleashed. Lacking eyes, there was little warning of the raw, unconditional hatred that was about to erupt from him, save for the manic energy of his laughter as it echoed across the chamber.

“You, Equerry, are out of line - and you will not live to see the Sun in Splendor ever again.”

The chamber became replete with the shocked inhalations and murmurs of those in attendance, and almost invisibly, the Custodian Guards seemed to tense. The Twelfth Primarch did not care.

They had, all of them, done this to themselves.

Just as he had.

[...End Log.]
[...Terminating.]
[Imperial Thought for the Day: Hark, citizens - courage, faith, and duty to one’s masters are the pillars of the Imperium.]
In Mass Effect: Vigil → 3 yrs ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Havana, Cuba

Febuary 7th, 2187
Afternoon



There was salt in the air as the boat came to dock, carrying with it passengers from all different walks of life; some tourists, some wishing to start a new life, and some looking to join with the Sol Restoration Network. It was Sevipia who had sought out and joined the SRN, having been held up due to choppy weather and partially due to touring Florida and witnessing some of the native fauna that was rather interesting to her. She had found out that the North American Alligator was an exceptionally lethal ambush-predator that hid in the water, granted the young specimen that she held did not seem all that deadly. Although, the focus of her escapades mattered little when she had a job that needed to be done and so she had bought herself a boat ticket to get to Havana. However, that boat had been delayed for two days due to storms that decided to blow into the area, meaning the waves were too treacherous for civilian departure.

Sevipia, in the end, still managed her way to Havana despite the delays. That said, it was not the tourist destination that she had thought that it was going to turn out to be, while true the beaches seemed pristine, there was still destruction that she could see. Yet, there was still spirit in the city, with people seeming to carry on and moving on from the past trauma that the Reapers had dared to leave elsewhere on the planet. It brought happiness to her weary heart, knowing that people could move past the detriments of war and carnage, knowing that there was light at the end of that scarred tunnel. However, she knew that it would still take some time for certain wounds to close, a fact that made her gentle smile turn to a frown. With a huff, Sevipia gathered her belongings and stepped off the boat and onto some wooden dock, nothing compared to the ship ports she had seen while in the military.

Yet, there was a rustic happiness she could feel with it. There was a culture that was completely and utterly foreign to her, some new distraction that she could focus on as she walked forward. The Turian kept her eyes down for the most part, not quite wandering aimlessly as she knew where she was headed for the most part. However, she stopped at a park, sitting upon a bench under a tree that was generous enough to cast a fair amount of shade upon her. For a moment, Sevipia sat in silence before an older human decided to sit on the other side of the bench, accompanying her in silence. Granted, that was before she was caught awkwardly side-eying him.

“May I help you?” he asked.

Flustered, Sevipia responded, “Erm, no. Sorry.”

Letting out a light chuckle, the older man asked, “It’s a good day out isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” the Turian said, letting out a light hearted laugh of her own as she turned her head to the man fully.

“Hah! Trick question! It’s hot out and I can feel my shirt sticking to my back,” he retorted in a friendly manner, letting out a laugh as Sevipia herself couldn’t resist his infectious laugh.

“It’s not bad out to me,” Sevipia said, matching his sarcastic tone as she leaned back on the park bench, shifting her bag to the side.

“Yeah well, I don’t think you Turian have sweat glands like I do! I’m like a water fountain over here” he continued his jests as he wiped some sweat from his brow. Yet, his smile disappeared as Sevipia held out a water bottle to him standing from the bench with what seemed to be a smile on her face, an unexpected gift that he gingerly took only hearing a few parting words from her. Her form turning as she continued on her path to report in with those who she’d be working with in the SRN.

“It’s best to stay hydrated.”

In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Cycle 1








The prison began to take shape, beginning to be populated and decorated in mass by the gods that had been summoned forth by the Monarch of All’s own body, yet there was still much that needed to be wrought for a world that was coming to fruition with each and every passing moment. His eyes studied the ball with intent, traveling down the newly formed continents that were wrought by Voligan, and toward the great tree in the south that had been spawned by Aethel. It was a beginning, one that He hoped would last indefinitely into the countless aeons that would proceed this moment, though this beginning of His came at a cost as His eyes settled upon the great watery expanse that was the ocean. A great sadness rippled through His being, knowing that death seemed to be an eventuality for even the gods that had spawned from His mighty form. A hand went to touch the outer edges of the wound upon His chest, allowing mortality to become a temporary thought as He stared at the great pison ahead of Him.

It was a wretched realization, that the Monarch of All had hoped that He could be saved from His own mortality and inevitable death. Such things were often cast to the back of the Great Being’s mind, shunted from existence by pure force of an almighty will alone, and yet, it seems to work its way back time and time again. The Monarch of All knew he needed to distract himself from this malaise, knowing that to succumb to the ponderance of the mortality of gods was to allow the prison to win and the Monarch of All was determined to continue on. So, He looked away from Galbar and those that had departed from His palace, choosing to look to His throne before the light gazed upon those that remained within. A new feeling stirred within Him, a great impatience at those that have yet to depart to Galbar along with the rest of their peers. Had He not given them their orders? Had He not proclaimed to them that they must go and create upon Galbar? The Monarch of All outstretched the four great arms of His body as He beckoned their attention, allowing all to gaze upon His magnificence and opulence. Only when their gaze met His did the Monarch of All choose to speak His declaration.

’I shall depart from the palace, my subjects! For the time being I will keep the bridge open to use, but, should I come back and see you all still here, know that I shall punish you for negligence of duty. You were all spawned to create upon the Galbar, not to malaise in my palace!’

The Monarch of All was then gone from sight, abandoning those that remained to their own devices for the time being as He moved at full haste towards Galbar and let His own curiosity roam free. Eventually, he came to a stop above one of the continents formulated by Voligan, inspecting it and making note of the design of each and every coast, every plateau and mountain top; each crevice and ravine were laid bare to His all-seeing eyes. The Monarch of All allowed himself a moment to bask in the beauty of this newly found nature and so delighted was He that He felt the need to explore it all, to experience it as if He were but a mere ant lost in the grandeur of it all. Yet, He reeled in His desires for experience, pulling back the innate wanting to feel more, as He knew that He had a duty to the world and the subjects that made His court. The Great Being knew that should He give in to that temptation, then He would roam Galbar for constant ages doing nothing more than exploring the planet from a mortal’s own view.

Yet, such architecture was not lost upon the Monarch of All, as He careened the coastline at such speeds that the waves themselves went further inland, or were driven back entirely if He veered closer to the land. The Monarch came to a sudden stop at an inlet, safe from the trepidations of the water outside and noticed a serene calm brought upon a world that was just getting over its destructive makings. He graced the planet with an unseen smile as He watched the day pass into night and once more and again, merely taking in the beauty and calm before He came to a decision.

An announcement spread across the planet, letting all those divine know,

’Voligan, God of Earth, for the beauty of these continents and bringing together your peers for such an undertaking, you are bestowed the title of the Great Bearer of Lands, come to me and I shall grant you this title more formally! May your efforts inspire your equals and urge them to conjure things as great as these lands!’

He allowed a moment of respite after the announcement, taking a moment to shrink His form to walk along the beach of the inlet, noting how much the prison that He inhabited has already improved. The Monarch of All looked to some of the fauna that had been seeded, stopping His gaze at a tree that stood mighty and strong. It cast a long shadow over the inlet, standing alone as the shade moved to touch the base of the Great Being’s form, causing Him to look upon it with a slight disdain before backing away. There was still more to do, too much to check upon, but the tree reminded Him of that great tree of Aethel, with its roots spread all across the prison that was Galbar. With a thought, He moved once more and turned to face the direction of the tree, his haste creating towering waves over the water.

It was but a few scant moments until He reached the tree, though, rather than going to the tree itself, the Monarch of All dove towards the water at the last moment, parting the liquid before he made contact. He travelled along the side of one of the massive roots that anchored it to the prison, moving down further and further until water gave way to rock and rock gave way to metal. All parted for the Supreme Being’s coming, moving away from the path of the Lord as if the inanimate had become animate until He reached the very core of the Galbar, willing a massive cavern to reveal itself so that He may see how the very roots of the tree interacted with the center of the prison. There was no scratch, no damage, to the realm’s center and with that He gave but a small sigh of relief, thankful that nothing had compromised the integrity of His cage. A small chuckle escaped Him as a voice echoed throughout the cavern in a muse, His glare still set upon the core of his prison.

’It sure has been a long while.’


In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Ruin finds purpose.


Location: The Celestial Palace.
Interacting with: The Monarch of All (@lauder)
Mentions: Ao-Yurin.



Shortly after her test of Ao-Yurin’s ocean Ruina wandered into the depths of The Celestial Palace. Investigating around its many rooms until she found one in particular that suited her fancy. The room was fairly compact in setup. Some moss-covered rocks around a clear stream of gently flowing water. Perfect to rest in while she waited for the phantom pains of her expenditure to fade away. To bring forth the pure destructive energy that she could was taxing on Ruina. Nothing that wouldn’t heal, of course. But it still left her with various aches and pains that needed a few moments to fade away. It was like a sprinter that had been training for an event finally being able to compete. By the end of it they’re sore and tired, but happy.

That described Ruina well as she stepped softly into the water. Giving a sigh at the cool sensation passing across the surface of her second skin, Ruina found a large rock embedded into the stream and braced herself against it. Pushing her tail out to the side and allowing it to drift and wiggle freely with the current. This… Was fairly nice.

Settling until the water was up to her neck, Ruina closed her eyes and let out a sigh as she relaxed and began to feel the aches from hurling orbs of destruction down to Galbar. The holes in the ocean that had been left behind would likely be resolved by Ao-Yurin. Or if not then Ruina would likely have to see about taking a look at them if she was asked to. If she wasn’t then she would likely just leave them as-is. They didn’t bother her and might make for something interesting to use later if someone found a use for them. Fortunately that wasn’t really her problem right now. Right now her problem was waiting for her aches and pains to go away. This did leave Ruina with a curious question: Was using their divine powers this taxing on anyone else? Or was it just her? A consequence of being distilled and concentrated destruction in that she was equally harmful to herself? Perhaps she would ask, or perhaps she would simply accept it as the way of things.

Letting out a hum, Ruina did her best to stop thinking for now and instead focus on having her aches and pains fade away.

’Enjoying yourself, little destroyer?’ came an all too familiar voice that had wormed its way into the mind of the goddess. Looking up, there was the form of the Monarch of All standing across the water, His form noticeably smaller to fit into the room. He was looking down upon her, allowing a moment for her to bask in His radiance before He stepped onto the water. The steps of the Great Ruler did not disturb the flow, no ripples coming from his movements as He loomed over her with His hands folded together. After another moment, the divine voice found itself working into her mind once more, ’I apologize for not addressing you earlier when you had tried to speak with me. I had a pressing issue to deal with.’

Ruina had closed her eyes by this point. Not yet to the point of attempting to snooze, but not fully aware of things either. As The Monarch of All appeared, she didn’t react for a few moments until His voice wormed its way into her head. It was then that her eyes opened promptly, her pupils focusing quickly upon His form. At the two questions she was asked, Ruina gave the answers in the same pattern that the questions came. ”I’m enjoying this stream washing away my aches and pains at the moment, yes. Though your sudden absence when I attempted to speak with you is no issue with me. I could tell what was going on and understand why you had to go so quickly. A dance that nearly ended the world… To be honest, I hadn’t thought of that. But then again my purpose doesn’t feel like that of a world ender… Though I’m sure I could if I so desired. My purpose is to test… Is it not?”

Ruina layered an interesting twist into that question. Since The Monarch of All had departed before giving her the first instructions, she had taken a guess as to her grand purpose, and by this point she had taken actions that solidified her role, even if it was not intended by The Monarch of All. So with her last statement she poked at His mind to see if that was in fact the reason for her existence, or if The Monarch had intended something else for her and she, by her nature of destruction, had ruined that plan. The only thing now was to wait and see.

The Monarch seemed to ponder the question, tilting His head to the side with clear thought echoing across the serene chamber. There was a brief silence in that ponderance, nothing beyond the sound of moving water that flowed through the chamber during that time where the Monarch merely stared at Ruina. Though, all silence is meant to end as His voice came to fruition, unsure yet confident in His answer, ’Your purpose… is to make of it what you will. I made you and your peers to bring meaning to this prison of existence. That meaning is whatever it is you desire, if you wish to test other creations then that is of your own volition. So long as you are contributing to the world, I will not bat an eye.’

With the news that Ruina’s existence was hers to define, she let out a hum. She had already made such a majorly defining decision that shifting away from it would likely cause more harm than good, and with the news that The Monarch of All wouldn’t bat an eye at her activities… Well, then it would probably be best to see that they continued. But then, what to test next? She would have to keep watch on all of creation in order to stay up to date on what was being made… And perhaps The Monarch could help with that. Speaking up, she posed a question to Him. ”Very well. I will define my purpose as testing the creations of others so that they may be perfected enough to please you. With this purpose in mind, I would like to request a gift of sorts. If I might be allowed, could I request of you some means of keeping an eye on Galbar, regardless of my actual location? ‘Twould aid in ensuring that I bring testing down on all that needs it and that none that need my attention go without.”

’Done,’ came His voice after a swift deliberation, a small head tilt as His hand came up to His eye and motioned a few fingers around the glowing orb. The Monarch of All then pulled the eye from its place, only for another spark of white light to take the temporarily vacant space. Crushing the orb in His hand, a pressure exerted itself into the space around His clenched fist, the room trembled slightly and the water itself began to swirl upwards and around the form of the Monarch of All. The trembling stopped as His hand opened, in its place was a white circlet, embroidered with gold and jade. A single jewel came down, casting a crimson glare upon all of Galbar, and through it could be seen everything on the grand scale that was happening on the planet. It was one that would fit perfectly onto the form of Ruina, one that would bring her much ease in locating the newly created objects of the gods. He lowered the circlet to Ruina, holding it out for her to take as any ruler would give a gift to a loyal subject.

’I trust you to serve me well through these tests. Should you do well, there will come further rewards in the future. Fail me and I shall take this gift back.’

Ruina was slightly surprised that the gift came so easily, but she was not one to shun something asked after, especially since it came from the hands of The Monarch himself. As the energies of creation began to warp the area Ruina pushed herself upwards and used her tail to brace herself against the bottom of the stream so that she could stand properly. It would be rude to take such a gift sitting lazily, after all. As Ruina stood from the river something of note was how easily the water ran off of her suit, to the point where mere moments after she had left she was dry aside from her calves and most of her tail, which were naturally still submerged.

Grasping gently at the circlet. Ruina bowed her head in thanks before speaking. ”Of course, if at all you should find me or my tests wanting I shall relinquish this gift as easily as you give it, tis only fair.” With that said, Ruina gently brought the circlet up and placed it gently upon her head. Immediately she was greeted with a sight beyond sight, causing her to shift and gasp slightly as she bore witness to nearly every inch of Galbar at once. As quickly as this vision came, it went. With a slow blink Ruina found herself stable again, comprehending how to control and direct this new sight of hers. Blinking a few more times, Ruina nodded in thanks once more before speaking again. ”I will do my best to satisfy your desires and perform the role that I have chosen.”

Bowing again and with naught else to say, Ruina lowered herself back down to the sitting position gently, careful to ensure that the circlet didn’t touch the gently flowing water.

The Monarch of All looked up, sending His gaze past the goddess of destruction, as His hands interlocked once more with His fingertips pointing upwards. A stern voice rang into her mind as His voice became domineering, a command came to her, ’I expect greatness from you, Ruina. Do not fail me.’

Then, He vanished, leaving her with her new gift and task.

Ruina could do naught else but nod at the silence and speak to the nothing that remained. ”Understood. I will do my best.”

It was then that she took to resting a bit more, her eyes closed and her form still as she slept a sleep that she did not need. When she awoke, she pushed herself free of the stream with ease and walked from the room and into the palace once more, eager to get to the next test.




In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Beginnings of a Pantheon

Cycle 0








’This existence is… wrought with pain,’

A voice spoke into void, filled with anger and pain.

A lone being floated in the finite expanse above a barren wasteland, allowing the cosmic winds to carry Him a short distance as He contemplated, knowing what was reality and all that it currently was. It was a desolate and isolated existence filled with nothing but the prison that was the planet of Galbar, a prison that confined all that existed. His chest ached, a great wound had rippled and shone light upon the dark lands, showing its crevices and heights, all the imperfections that blemished the surface. By all intention, that was how the prison had been made in the cataclysmic fire that birthed into the emptiness that was reality as it was. The existent primordial shone his gaze away from the prison and allowed a hand to run along the wound that ached, feeling the shards that made up his inner being.

Before any work could be done, the king needed a throne to rule from and the great Monarch of All intended to not rule from the prison that confined Him. While He could not fully escape Galbar, He would rule from a true palace. In a swift motion, He slammed His four hands together, the sound of which resounded even through the great void beyond His prison, and pulled His palms into the great wound. The Monarch of All let out a gasp of pain as the light shining from the wound grew more and more with each passing moment before, with a force to threaten the very fabric of reality, He ripped out a light that shone with all that would become the heavens. The light illuminated the prison, casting away the cold darkness of the void that has so depressingly found to let itself remain known, though now forced to retreat to the other side of rock.

Inside the light, He could see the source of the opulent light, and within it was a palace fit for only those who could truly claim to be of divine blood, His blood. A smile would have crept across His face if He could muster it, but He saw red marble spread tall, yellowed roof tiles upon the mighty pagodas with white trimming the bottom walls. Gardens of all varieties teemed and joined together in the outer edges of the place ground, their plants intermingled and their earth mixing. A multitude of rooms inhabited the palace, so many that counting was a fool's errand and each one unique, some being barren armories yet to be filled with ornate and ceremonial garb while there were also great libraries that had yet to be filled. Then, a great jade throne at the very center of it all, looking straight upon Galbar and all that it was. A fine, wooden bridge extended forwards, inviting the Monarch of All to walk the grounds within that star-shaped palace that He had crafted so intricately. If He had the inclination, He would have done so without hesitation, but now that His place of rule had been built, He would need subjects to rule. He would need Lords and Ladies to lay claim to the prison that trapped Him and make His existence bearable in this reality of His. His eyes returned once more to the shards as He pushed away the orb of light, allowing it to expand as it travelled away from Galbar, slowly but noticeably.

His gargantuan form lurched forwards, pulling the shards toward Himself with the invisible force that was His exceptional will, allowing them to be humbled at His before giving them but a single pained utterance.

’My subjects, I am your creator, you Lord. Know that my will shall be done and there shall only be my will. You shall be my instruments, my hands, of creation for this world - for Galbar. The work that remains for us is indefinite, yet such is the nature of my realm.’

His words resonated with a power felt by the shards, causing them to glow with a power to rival the stars that lined the indefinite void. None, though, matched the light that shone from the wound that travelled into the Monarch of All, but His hands spread themselves wide, not hiding the injury from any to see. The shards were not yet complete; as His power had yet to be truly infused into them and simple words would not transform them into proper subjects for a divine rule such as He. The inordinate ruler looked past the very aspects that were once a part of Him, now giving a defiant gaze to Galbar that prevented him from leaving. Further words that urged the shards onwards rang out, the Monarch raising His voice at the planet and making His intent clear.

’This will not be our prison, not a stockade so that reality itself may keep us from the rest of the infinite beauty the void holds! This is my realm! This is our canvas to paint! Know this, o subjects mine, know that this light shall be our light! We are naught but creators! Artists! We shall take Galbar and make it mine! Raise now, o great primordials of my flesh and blood! Rise of give meaning to this blankness! Let my will be done!’

The glow of the shards surged with power, threatening to burst as they hummed with divine might that could only be wrought by the Monarch of All, the primordial god of gods that beckoned his subjects to rise. His many hands raised themselves above His head, deliverance reaching a fever pitch as the humming of the crystals grew louder and louder, becoming the choir of Galbar, the great song that would become the first the great venture of a new pantheon in the cosmos. Knowing that He could not stop now, the opulent one clasped His hands together once more, sending a shockwave across the stars.

’Rise! Heed this call of mine! Become the gods of Galbar!’

And in that moment came the roar of shattering shards that ushered in the age of the divine. It was that moment, when He felt his very essence split further sending a pained scream throughout all corners of reality as the gods birthed themselves. Yet, in His scream of triumph, as the newly born gods siphoned the great primordial energy from Him, He clutched the great wound from which the energy spilled before willing it to temporarily close.

He had cut the connection, and now the gods were free.

Free to begin their rule over Galbar.



In Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI → 3 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Might as well pop it here while I'm logged on. See you guys in November.



Welp. You convinced me! But I have a question.

Is Mamang a whale?
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