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Lord Zee male Member

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In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 10 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sylia




The lands around the Atelier had changed with the passing of time. Not all could live within that great holy place and thus, Sylia wrought a great gift for those she deemed on the cusp of society and in a frenzy of work, she built by hand a vast city of metal and stone. For several weeks and nights the Goddess was lost in her work and the people of the Atelier could only watch in abject wonder as the land was tamed. The hills were carved out, flattened or expanded into great monuments. Buildings tall and wide took root upon strong foundations. She redirected the river to flow through the very heart of the city, thus allowing the gift of life for all. Great aqueducts rose, carrying water to places not so easily accessible to the river and out into the vast farmlands. For Sylia had plucked from the far south strange creatures, walking pigs who talked and agreed to teach any about the prospects of agriculture in return for new hearths and plots to till. Knowing the people of the Atelier would need a helping hand to fully grasp what was before them, Sylia went south again and returned with different goblins. Ones who talked with strange accents about hierarchies, kings, queens, priests and the Goddess of Civilization.

Thus the Goblins of the Atelier were again elevated and those strange beastfolk people who had arrived during much of this, gladly took root there, safe from the terrors of the wilds. Yet the pinnacle of this city was not in some great work, for in time those would arise, but instead in the sheer size of it all. There were homes a plenty and would be for years to come as the old died and the new were born. As the populations would sore and Sylia had simply given them a basis to expand with their own culture and systems.

And so they built upon what they were taught and Sylia only changed what did not work, into something more manageable. There would be no strife in such a fledgling nation if she couldn’t help it and the only divine right they had would be to exist, not to butcher those who opposed. That could come later if it was needed. Sylia only wanted it functional. Ultimately, it would be the mortals who would decide how they ruled themselves and the all encompassing threat of a God would loom above them. Logic and reason would prevail but the world was still young and the Goddess knew there would come a time when war would be the only certainty. And she could only wonder if they would be ready.

So at last the city was created around the Atelier, stretching wide and far. As a final gift, Sylia erected a wall of white stone around the entirety of it and she also gave the knowledge on how to repair stonework when needed. Wide enough to be patrolled, thick enough to staunch any would be attack- it would be a mighty deterrent or the ultimate prize.

Satisfied as she could be, Syliawould name her creation, Sylann. The city of Innovation.



“Really Althea?” Vaesna sighed as the two Syllianth rushed up the steps that lead towards the third tier of the Atelier. Goblins wearing white togas with gray beards walked past them.

“I’m just saying,” Althea began as she took a quick breath, “Even if we’re late, no one is going to bat an eye.”

Vaesna rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said last time and Hollis still made us chisel the statue until our hands went numb.”

“Well, so what if we do? You know our tardiness is worth it.” Althea eyed Vaesna and smiled. “Do you regret seeing Ophelia’s baby and those little chubby cheeks?”

Vaesna returned the stare, her emotionless facade breaking apart with every second. “Ugh. Of course not. It makes me want to have my own.”

A fullblood mongoose walked past, wearing working leathers and a large smile. Althea turned, “Hey Izara!” And gave a wave.

The mongoose girl looked up sheepishly at Althea and waved back and then kept going.

“Well, you know that’s easily changed.” She gave a sly smirk to Vaesna and elbowed her. “Many suitors about, dontcha know.”

Vaesna waved her off. “Yeah, yeah. I know, it’s just…” She took a breath, “I’m not sure I want to be a mother just yet.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” Althea agreed, “Plenty of time. In fact, all the time in the world really.”

“Yeah. Maybe one day. Let’s leave the ones like Ophelia to keep up the good work. You and I have other, more important matters to attend to. The Goddess demands it.”

They reached the tops of the steps and began the direct walk towards the massive workshop. “I doubt she demands much of anything.” Althea murmured as she looked up at the two massive marbled statues on either side of the ornate doors. Sylia had called them the Watchers, created in the memory of some creation long gone from the world but not forgotten.

They opened the doors and rushed into the lit interior of Sylia’s personal abode. Upon entering a room that was designated for them, they found several others of their kind fast engrossed with their own projects. Woods were being carved, a few were hammering at a large chunk of metal and a few sat in a circle weaving. A large open fire burned in the center and the smells of the place brought a tingle to Althea’s core. She loved the place but then she eyed her own spot. An imperious looking Syllianth, his tall erect posture giving away his entire personality, stood by two empty workbenches with his hands crossed.

“Hollis…!” Vaesna began but the male raised his hand.

“Late again.”

“I can explain!’ Althea burst forth.

“I’m sure you can.” he said with little fanfare. “But I don’t really care. You aren’t children, I shouldn’t have to reprimand the both of you again. Statue duty, again.”

They both groaned.



The two found themselves in a chamber near the back of the workshop that led outside into a large garden. In the middle of that Garden was a large block of marble that required scaffolding to fully access. Luckily, they and others who had and would work on the statue, had already established the head down to the chest. It wasn’t like they didn’t enjoy carving and chiseling but what they were peeling layer from layer from the stone was the issue. It was Sylia and no one wanted to mess it up. So they worked, shaping their hands into chisel and hammer. All the while the silence between them was palpable. Althea took everything in stride whereas Vaesna, not so much. This would be the second day the taller Syllianth would not be able to work on faceting and Althea didn’t know how to broach it. So she sighed.

“Althea. Vaesna.” A voice from behind them called out, and a shiver went up Althea’s spine. Not one of fear or even disgust but of pure excitement. How could one not be, with who that voice belonged to and its beauty. They both turned and immediately bowed before their Goddess. Sylia hummed the response to rise, so they did and Althea found the chiseled goddess looming before them. Her form of sleek obsidian with eyes of shimmering ruby.

“Goddess.” They both chimed back as a large smile found its home on Althea’s lips. Her hands reverted back to fingers and she clasped them down at her waist.

Sylia looked past them and up at the statue. Althea followed the Goddesses gaze and found that she wasn’t just looking at the statue but beyond it.

“One day you shall look up at the heavens and not shy away from the sun. Another would be there and the nights not so dark. One that could be looked at and admired.” Her shoulders seemed to slack. “But how can one long for something they do not know could exist?” She seemed to say to herself as her arms crossed behind her back.

“Goddess…?” Althea asked, not making any sense of it. Vaesna gave her a sharp look in return and Althea winced but she found Sylia’s gaze upon her own and the Syllianth girl felt herself shrink.

“Nevermind that. Tomorrow the both of you shall survey the north wall. Hollis suspects your feet could use the exercise and I agree.” Her face was an emotionless mask, yet her eyes seemed to dance. “Now, you may continue and remember, this test is for all of the Syllianth’s to fail or succeed.”

And then she was gone in a blink.
Both Althea and Vaesna groaned.




In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 10 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




’Down by the river in a flowing cerulean stream, come and see the beastfolk and their wandering dream.’ The daffotales sang amidst the cool breeze of a fading sun. Peace reigned despite the odd assortments of beastfolk gathered. Beasts, birds and reptiles, living in harmony as they traveled. The days of the desert were well past, Salvation had come and new life was blooming. Children played with pearling laughs and elders talked about the times. Some fished, some slept, while others watched.

For not all beastfolk were so inclined to the ways of peace and easy living. Well, as easy as life could be in that time and age. Survival was a constant. One wrong decision cost lives. One violent Wildblood would kill them all.

So it was, for there were no heroes. Not yet. And so it would be.

“Must go must go mussst go!” A snake hissed to the others as it slithered across the small dune that sat overlooking the river. He kept looking back, even while his vision became obscured, black scaled arms pumping with every motion of his powerful lower-half.

That small camp next to the riverbank jostled at once and then blew into a full blown panic. Beastfolk of all sorts bolted, flew and swam in every direction. Grabbing children, helping elders and securing supplies. On land, water and into the sky, everywhere except the way the snakeman came from.

A pride of lions stood their ground however, as the snake, nearly out of breath stopped before them. His own flame cowering but not because of those beasts.

His forked tongue flicked forth, tasting the air. “Not afraid?” he panted, clutching his sides.

The largest of them, standing a foot taller with a thick black mane growled, “We are strong! Not weak! Not afraid! Stand and fight!” He pounded his chest once.

The snake shook his arrow like head, amber eyes unblinking. “Won’t fight. Can’t fight. Goodluck.” The snake began to slither off, taking his chances with the water it seemed.

The lion roared, “Coward!” but the snake didn’t look back. The lions looked up at the dune, brandishing makeshift clubs. The inner flames were that of warriors, of fighting the only battle that mattered. Between life and death. Bravado, strength, pride and loyalty. No finer traits there could be had and yet, as the Wildblood crested the hill and paused to look down at them with its hungry eyes, they felt fear.
A demon in beastly disguise. Jaws opening wide to showcase sharp, salivating teeth. The Mongoose, even from top of the hill, was large. Almost as big as the tallest of them, their leader, Black Mane.

He knew who the killer that had come for them was. Every beast folk knew the names of their terrorizers. The ones who could not see reason, whose inner flames had burned with nothing but hate and violence. Oh he knew. He remembered his own village being ripped apart. The memories like lightning in his mind.

His eyes narrowed and he pointed the club at the Maw Who Slew In Salvation. In challenge to the death. Now the fear came, clinging to the air like mist. He let out a low growl at his unsteady pride mates.

The Maw let out a low snicker as it began a slow descent down the hill. Large claws dragging in the sand, sending the grains down the hill like small waves. The demon sniffed the air with slow head bobs, the brown fur on his back beginning to bristle with a killer’s thrill.

Black Mane shuffled slightly. “Steady.” he growled, “Steady.” As the Maw approached, the lions stood their ground. The great beast began to circle them, sniffing the air and chattering with his teeth. Sounds of excitement, turned ghastly in the twilight. The pride was beginning to falter, Black Mane could feel it. He glanced to either side of him. Walking with Bristles was wide eyed and shaking. Scratches the Sand looked like he was going to be sick. He dare not look back to see how Running Grass and Creak Listener fared. As long as he led them, they would survive.

They had to.

“Fear…” The Maw said in a low, animalistic voice. “Sweet…” he cooed, the word harsher than it had any right to be. Someone whimpered behind him and Black Mane cursed.

The Maw sprang at them, the burst of speed almost blindingly fast. Black Mane braced himself, ready to swing but the damn demon had bluffed charged them and he watched as the Maw jumped back, the demon’s eyes snapping past him and he smiled. It was too late. Someone had bolted and the Maw sprang again.

Black Mane swung his club as it ran past them but the Maw jumped out of the way and in an instant, had Creak Listener by the back of the head. Black Mane watched as the wildblood and his pridemate hit the ground and there was no time to act as the Maw began to shake Creak Listener’s head. There was a sickening sound of bones cracking and squeezing and then a loud pop as a gush of blood poured from the Maw’s mouth.

“RUN!” Scratches the Sand screamed and his pride mates bolted, leaving Black Mane to stare down the beast by himself.

“COWARDS!” Black Mane roared at them, before he charged the Maw. He swung his club once more, only able to see red but the Maw ducked low and he hit air. Next thing he knew something had slammed into him and he was sent flying. With a thud he landed in the sand, the air knocked out of him.

But he steeled himself, he wouldn’t die on the ground like a coward and so he got back up and readied himself.

The Maw looked at him now with a smile that could only bear bloody teeth. He began to walk towards Black Mane, assured victory in every step but then the Maw stopped. He cocked an ear to the side and his heckles lowered. He sniffed once, twice and then he backed up, plucking Creak Listener’s corpse before he made a swift retreat.

This left Black Mane confused, until he heard the rush of mighty wings blow past him. He scanned the darkened sky but saw nothing. Then he looked around the now quiet camp and realized his pride mates had run over the hill, while the Maw had left in the opposite direction. His ribs hurt but that wasn’t going to stop him from catching up. Damn the Maw, that coward! And damn his pride mates, he’d teach them to stand and fight.

Then the sky over the hill lit up briefly, followed by a terrible screaming. Black Mane’s eyes widened. Had the Maw doubled back? He ran faster, half climbing, half falling as he crested the hill to see… His inner flame dulled.

Two bodies lay smoldering below, the smell of charred corpse filtering into his nose even then. Someone was struggling but the light was not great enough to where he could see until he saw a flickering light that illuminated a kicking and screaming lion. Once more, helpless, he watched as that light became a roaring inferno that washed over the screaming lion. And Black Mane could see, his now silent pride mate had been lifted aloft, held by a creature he had wished was only rumor.

As the fire smoldered about his friend, the dark settled in again, two gleaming red eyes turned to look at him and the Black Mane at once felt true fear. Primal in intensity. There would be no fight, only flight, yet his legs would not listen. He saw the body drop and he heard the unmistakable sound of a bird taking flight. Yet that had been no bird.

No.

It had been… A wall of fire sprang forth.

’Down by the river in a flowing cerulean stream, come and see where the beastfolk scream.’


In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




His first thoughts had been of running. The second had been a maelstrom of sand. Biting, blinding sand and there had been no direction to go. It was maddening. But he endured. He ran and ran and ran until the howling lessened and then ceased altogether. When this was done he let out a huff, shook himself off and took in his surroundings. A giant wall of dust and sand lay behind him, he had not outran the storm but had survived it. What stretched out before him was more sand, endless beyond the horizon.

The beast glowered and put his head into the air. He took a deep breath and then sniffed the air. The smell of earth was blatant and there was not even a hint of water. He swung his head, sniffing, trying to find some sense of direction. But what was there really to find? Perhaps not so much a direction but a way towards survival. Then he caught a whiff of something that could leave a scent. His head snapped its attention back towards the storm and there, a black dot, silhouetted amongst the dunes came a thing from the storm, just as he had.

His claws dug into the sand, his fur bristling, standing on end. Would it be friend or foe? There was only ever one way to find out and so he ran, marveling at his speed. Starting on all fours, he quickly realized running upright was far better. His legs were feeling the extent of the excursion by the time the figure came into sight. He could make out what it was- One of his own kind but not. A thing smaller than him, with brown creamy feathers, a full dark beak and darker eyes. It seemed to shrink as it saw him and came to a sudden stop as he approached.

“D-Don’t come any closer!” Came it’s high pitched voice. A female. Coming to a stop not fifteen feet away, he crouched and stared at the bird, taking her in. He immediately noticed why she wasn’t flying. Her broken wing, from the storm no doubt. He sniffed the air. Fear was palpable in the air and the bird knew it.

“S-Stay away!” She shrieked, covering her bad arm with the good. .

A deep shuddering thrill ran down his spine. The bird was so much smaller and his belly growled.

The bird looked as if she was going to break. Saliva dripped from her maw as his vision became transfixed. He was about to attack when fate had other ideas. A creature crested behind her, giant and clacking as it swooped between them and scooped them up. The world became darker, more constricting and brief panic set in. He realized he was trapped in some cage, the outside world streaking past.

And then the beast heard a whimper and turned to see that the cage was not so constrictive after all. His eyes went wide, for the bird was there and more. Another one of his kind, with gray fur and a long snout sat huddled across the room. More curious were the small green folk, huddled around piles of some sort of egg. Several in all and they looked at him as well. Fear swelled in the room and he only saw red.



When at last the giant bug reached the river and deposited its contents upon the river bank, those around(and there were a lot around), ran at the sight of half-eaten and bloody corpses and the large wildblood predator emerged, fur matted with dried blood.

He was given a name then, as he went down to drink from the cool waters. One that would forever mark the sin stained upon his face.

Maw Who Slew In Salvation.


In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sylia




"Ggggreeetttings! My master, Lareus, sends an invitation to come visit him in your dreams." Said the thing that had appeared before her. Much to Sylia’s credit, she had not been alarmed by the sudden intrusion of her personal space but was in fact, disgusted by the thing with too many eyes and too many arms. It looked like a sack of flesh that was too dim witted to realize that it should be screaming in pain. Not because it should have been in perpetual pain, but because of how ugly it was. If this was what awaited her in the dreaming world… Her lips curled into a frown. Though perhaps many arms would be beneficial in situations that demanded… She shook her head and filed that thought away for later.

“The invitation is received.” She stated to the thing, “Though I must confess, sleep is not something that has ever crossed my mind as being needed. Furthermore, Dreaming is a part of the immaterial and I have taken a personal vow to never allow myself to immaterial again. Do send your master my condolences. He may visit me if and when I find a place of permanent residence. Farewell.” She turned away from the thing and looked out over the ocean of origin.

Sylia felt as if the thing was about to speak again and flew up into the sky at a blinding speed.

“Ugh.” She groaned, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Such strange deities, these kin of mine.”

Sylia had come to a stop just on the edge of space and looked at the budding world in its entirety. An ocean on the south pole. Seas on the north pole. Cruel dispositions on both of them. Especially the one made entirely of blood but the north felt uniquely insidious. Both areas would have to be looked at, for she had a sense that one of her kin behind it was not a Divine of reasonable intellect. The other, she could only ponder for the same signature in the north hung around the Tree of Life. A sunbeam acting as a beacon for all time. She looked up at the fledgling light. Very curious.

To top it all off, splitting the world in half was a river the likes of which she had never imagined. Water falling pure from the very sky. It wrapped around the vast crater of the origin, like a snake wrapping around an egg. Truly there would be vast civilizations there, for they were already being made.

She did not understand why the short, diminutive, green-skinned creatures known as ‘Goblins’ were so widespread. She would chalk it up to Galaxor being more headstrong than logical and really, who was she to stop others from taking a fancy to them? If one lacked originality in their own designs, it was only natural to take from the existing pool. Sylia rubbed her chin in thought. Perhaps she could make them better? Enlighten the masses? Well, she wouldn’t go down to the fledgling civilization in the south, not yet anyways, since the uplifting there was already under way.

No, she would head north, not so far as the pole but where the blood rains had not touched the pristine land. Where the vast rivers would bring greenery and with it, an abundance of life. And there, in some unassuming place, she would show them all, mortal and divine alike, just how to create.



From the land of solemn trees and lush vales came a towering complex of Sylia's design. She had chosen the spot not because there was a Divinium pocket underneath, for there wasn’t but because of the location. Crafted from marbled gold and black obsidian, with inlays of silver. Three massive flat circles, acting like a giant's staircase, sat nestled into the hills overlooking a river. Her Atelier. The largest of circles was used as a base, or the first level, and it contained much verdant vegetation and trees. The suckle of craft. The first steps any could take in a new world would be made here.

The second level sat behind the first, with an overlook to take in the view below. Here many rocks and ores could be found, with great sources of heat and industry. Once a mastery for wood was achieved, those with apt minds could try their hand at shaping stone and molding metal.

The final circle sat above the second and here it had a great silver dome covering it, ornate and bejeweled with diamonds. At the height of the day, the sun would hit the dome and light would refract in wondrous beauty, as envisioned by the Goddess. Within that dome sat a personal residence and workshop of Sylia. A crafter’s dream, where the general advancement of the world could take place. Here the fabric of the universe could be unraveled, studied and put to use.

As a final flourish, a great metal work sprang forth from the land and settled over the second circle. A silver orb hung fixed in the middle of giant rings. One made of wood, one made of stone and one made of iron. These rings were in constant motion around the orb, never touching it or the other rings, defying gravity all the while.

When this was at last done, Sylia walked down the long steps that connected the three tiers, prodding her Holy Site with improvements like a fussing hen with her nest. Mainly, on either side of the stairs that started from the very top, she willed into existence two streams of water and watched as it cascaded down out into the distant river. And within such a gaze she saw what she had hoped for- Mortals.



Goblins. It seemed Galaxor had thrown these diminutive species everywhere, leaving them to their fates. As a dozen or so arrived at the first step of The Atelier, Sylia went down to meet them. All eyes were fixed upon her form and she realized, most of them were squinting. With but a thought her form shifted to that of the marble at her feet, her hair forming into obsidian curls before it ceased movement altogether. Now with wider eyes, most took a step back. A few even tripped in surprise.

She looked at them and saw beings of flesh, blood and bone. Bruises lay on most, with cuts, and scrapes. Dried blood and dirt mixed upon their unwashed and thin naked bodies. The smell of refuse and decay was among them, mixed with pheromones. Fear mainly and… She looked upon one female and two heartbeats greeted her. Already with child. Sylia sighed. Animals would be animals, she supposed.

She came to a stop before them and a command echoed from her voice, “Kneel.” And they did.

“Who is capable of speech?” She asked, walking down amongst them. “You may rise if you are.”

When none of them did, she sighed. She came to a stop in the middle, ideas buzzing in her mind.

“You are called Goblins. Your creator chose this name. He and I are kin but I am not him and not your creator. I am Sylia, Goddess of Crafting. Matron of Metals. You know what I am, for some part in those infant minds you can comprehend the magnitude of this being before you. There is no need to be afraid, I have been tasked with the uplifting of all species that desire it. And you desire it. This world will be changing but this place will remain as it is, for all time. Here you will learn and here you will grow.” she said. “Now, to be admitted you must tell me this- Who amongst your group have chosen violence upon another? Rise and point.” Sylia said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at their kneeling forms.

She waited, the air thick with growing anticipation. And then sprang up a shaking young male. He held his body close, as his right eye was beaten shut and his lips puffy. He pointed to another Goblin male, this one jumping up at the accusation. Not first to plead innocence to the God before him but to glower at the pointer. In one quick motion, Sylia was before the glowering goblin, who did not have time to register what happened next. Sylia simply laid a finger upon his brow and his flesh became ash, leaving only bones behind.

There came an audible shock from the Goblins, who were by this point, looking up and at her. The Goddess bent over and plucked a femur from the bone white pile before turning to them and saying with a smile, “First we shall go over bone and its many uses!”





In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sylia




Back on the surface, once again the world had changed. A giant tree had sprouted over the Khodex and its canopy felt like a never moving cloud. Animals strode about, flowers bloomed, the scents of nectar and life abounded in the air. Upon closer inspection of the Khodex, Sylia found that a great hall now resided around it and the Khodex itself was protected with vines. It looked as if each empty alcove were to be a spot for a God, twenty some in all. She wanted to kick herself for not having thought of it before she dove underground and now… She focused on the tree, Allianthé’s creation. The Life Goddess would get all the credit.

Well, credit where credit was due, Sylia supposed. Even better, she held out the nugget of Allianthite. What would a goddess of life fancy? She pondered for a time before an idea trickled into her mind and she went to work on the nugget of green. It became like liquid in her hands and she swirled her fingers, watching as the metal shimmered and reacted. She let her intent remain neutral, not wishing to change the nature of the Allianthite. She found this process most tedious as her mind buzzed with possibilities, not all of which were suitable. Eventually she settled upon a simple, yet elegant gift for one who had made such a place.

Sylia curved her fingers and began to shape the metal. Slowly the hum about it began to fade away, no longer intertwining with the pure Divinium until it was overpowered entirely. This did not bother her, for it was but a material to be used and in doing so, became far more useful. When she had gotten the shape into her liking she used her fingers to begin forming delicate petals. What would have taken a mortal a lifetime, she managed to complete in short order.

An emerald rose for the Goddess of the great tree, to remind her even the inorganic could be used for Life. She placed the rose beside the Khodex and in doing so, looked over the cocoon again.

"This form does not suit you." She said to it and another idea formed.

She took her second Divinium nugget and looked at it within her palm. It was the size of a small rock, humming with warmth. she returned the Hum and began to clear her mind. She also used her free hand to touch the Khodex. And it was then she knew what she wanted to make. How difficult could it be? So she became very still and closed her eyes and began to focus her intent upon the nugget. She did not will it to change. She did not want it to change. She wanted it to simply transform. It must be pure. Unalloyed. Perfect. It was for the Khodex. She felt a tingling in her hand that held the nugget. Something was happening. Her power coiled around the ore, pouring into it. Not for her but for the Khodex.

For the Khodex!

Light flared and then all grew quiet as the hum faded away. She opened her eyes and found that a crown of Divinium lay in her hands. Pure like starlight and shining with an ethereal glow. Weaves of Divinium interlaced, twining around to form the circular shape it had taken. The crown's simplicity was its beauty and Sylia beamed with satisfaction. She felt as if she had a new understanding of how metals worked. What made them. How they could be shaped. How they could transform.

She dipped her head before the Khodex and offered the crown to it. It, of course, did not respond and Sylia rose, placing the crown above the Khodex where it hovered like a halo of purest white.

"For whatever you are to become." Sylia mused, grabbing the Emerald Rose and walking over to an alcove. There she placed the last Divinium nugget and crafted into Sylium a lifelike replica of herself, one-hand holding a hammer and the other outstretched. A hand holding a planet was embossed into the background behind the statue's head. She looked rather indifferent, well the statue, that was. Within the outstretched hand she placed the Emerald Rose and stepped back. She admired her work for a few seconds and nodded.

Then Sylia vanished.





In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sylia




The Goddess hummed as she worked. She ran her hands through the regolith and stone of the dead world bit by bit. Breaking and binding, molding and shaping- forming structure through sheer perseverance. The Khodex had not yet kept the promise she had foreseen but soon, soon it would. In the meantime, Sylia worked, flexing her mind so as it would not go dull. What had started as a simple stacked stone house with a simple door and one open window, had quickly become a small village and then unable to stop, had formed into a large town. Silent but for the steady clanking of stone upon stone and her ever present humming.

It had not been difficult to work the land's nonexistent substance into material suitable for house making. Though, Sylia knew no one else could probably have done it and certainly not any of lesser standing. Those also promised by the Khodex. Having used up her strength or having had it stolen from her, she was far too dilapidated to truly make anything last. All thanks to that scroll up above.

That scroll that- A sharp sense of impending doom flooded into the Goddess and she looked towards the Khodex. She stopped her working and stood as fear and elation began to well up inside of her, banshing the doom. The promise was at last going to be kept and she would bear witness to it. She would then be able to commence her great works. Delve for her contributions, create and create and create!

Sylia opened her arms towards the smoking world, tendrils of wrong washed over her as she dipped back her head and shut her eyes. Everything would be alright.

And then with a bang, the universe was at last born.



To even try to describe what she felt during that time would have been inadequate to how it made her feel. Like a blanket of rock comforting the earth that she was. What could be, what was going to be, what would never happen- the time blurred and she felt herself slipping into euphoria and then, quite suddenly, she was standing before the Khodex.

Awareness filtered down from her starstruck high a bit too quickly. A weight had attached itself to her and she wobbled, catching herself upon the blackened cocoon. Her eyes began to adjust and Sylia was taken aback at how everything had changed. A blue sky was overhead, the smell of water and salt was upon the breeze that ruffled her metallic hair and the ground beneath her feet- she wiggled her toes in the dirt and let out a relieved sigh.

The Khodex had done its task and now it could rest. She placed a hand upon it and said,
"Thank you."

Eventually, she pulled her hand away and placed both on her hips. There was so much to do she didn't know where to start yet… Her attention became fixated upon the ground beneath the Khodex. Why had it picked this spot? Could it be… She listened and there it was, a soft hum.

She knelt on the ground and began to dig, the soil hanging in the air before she sighed and realized that spoiling the ground around the Khodex was akin to blasphemy, so she put back what she had upheaved and instead took a great leap into the waters surrounding the island. There she delved deep, fixated upon her search as she crushed rock and stone to reach the…

Chamber.

Or perhaps it was more of a massive network of caves. She could hear a faint hum all around, the voice of her Divinium. Yes, of course the Khodex would settle in this place. She wandered deeper, the hum growing ever louder. She began to see pockets of the shining ore, glittering in the dark like newborn stars. The scent of unmolested stone and new growth clung about in the air but there was also another scent, a smell of sweat and heroic ardor. She had sensed it before in the Khodex and knew the name, Galaxor. His additions to the Khodex were ones that Sylia found to be most interesting. At least that was a polite way of saying it. Maybe it would grow on her one day, the idea of heroics but not now. Now she was busy and could not be bothered by him.

So Sylia skirted the areas that swam with his essence and only from a distance did she spot his fledgling creations. Short, diminutive, green skinned and sweaty. Lit by magma and the Divinium, Sylia wondered why Galaxor had chosen such a spot. And then it hit her, what if he knew about Divinium? Or more importantly, what if he intended to use it? The goddess went rigid with thought. Was it her right to hoard such a gift? To not use it to create and craft wondrous things?

She idled more, touching her chin. What was this jealousy she felt in her chest? She let out a low whine and then kept going, past Galaxor’s chamber, past the small creatures and into the true abyss. There she found it, the hum a great song, the light a beacon. Warmth reached out and caressed her features, her skin prickled at the sensation, shimmering in turn. Upon the outcropping of a great ravine, she stood and looked over the edge to see the Divinium. Her eyes widened at the sheer magnificence of it. She reached out, the hum pulling her in, needing her to join.

Then the world shook and rocks began to fall, not a second later an enormous tree root broke through the top of the ravine and jut down into the abyss. The shaking continued for minutes and Sylia watched, captivated by the sudden turn of events, as more roots burst forth and the cave began to grow with rich moss and lichens. Where it touched Divinium, the ore began to hum a different tune, its white color turning a rich green. More foliage burst forth and the sound of dripping water that cascaded off rocks reverberated from the distance. Sylia turned back to the ravine and noticed that some pockets had turned green but not all of them. The different hums intertwined and played off each other. And it was then that Sylia knew she had to protect such a place. Or at least provide a suitable deterrent, for now. Her driving action was to create and by using the Divinium she could do that and in time, she would teach the mortals. Yet, if such a gift was just given away, it would lose all meaning. She knew then, in the spirit of Galaxor, that if any were to strike a pick into this vein, perhaps all veins, they would need to be challenged.

So Sylia dove into the ravine.

She returned to that same spot not long after, having removed three nuggets of pure Divinium and one of the green. The largest Divinium nugget, around the size of a boulder, she placed before her, whilst the others she placed to the side. Next she began to mold it into her desired shape and as she did it became her own alloy, Sylium. Just like the color of her own form, silvered and ever flowing. Two arms, jointed and with nimble fingers. Two lithe legs that ended at sharp points for feet. A feminine torso, curved and ornamented. She marveled at the versatility and textile strength as she kneaded the metal like dough, feeling every miniscule detail as she worked. Finally she addressed the head. She wanted nothing fancy and so, she made it a plain but reflective oval, polished to where she could see herself in its visage. Lastly, taking inspiration from all around her, she placed a floral crown on top of it and then followed suit around the arms and legs. When she was done, a very imposing automaton lay before her.

She clapped her hands together and it stirred, towering over the Goddess by a few feet. “You will be known as a Watcher. This task I give you, protect the Hum. Let none take from it, save the Divine. Do this duty until the end of time or when you can no longer function.”

It bowed to her and then stood deathly still. A moment later, its right hand curled and a cape came from its shoulder to obscure what lay beneath. From its left hand sprouted a lance. Sylia took note of this, cataloging the properties of Sylium for later. She became giddy with excitement and had to stop herself from having it perform tests. It would do its duty, this she knew and she had to go see whatever plant had roots that went so deep and were so large. So Sylia left after grabbing the nuggets.



In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sylia




Two silver hands cupped the regolith of the lifeless world. The anomaly in a place that had not yet begun to be. It was unwelcoming. Unsustaining. Useless. It made the silvered Goddess wonder at the intent behind it. If there had been such a thing at all. Her thumbs circled in the gray soil, feeling every rough texture and particle of dust. The sensation imprinted itself upon her mind but it felt hollow. There was nothing organic within. No small makers. No waiting seeds. They simply did not exist yet. Just empty plains.

She tipped her hands, pulling back and watched as the soil became suspended in the air. Without an atmosphere this place was but a barren rock suspended in the unborn. She began to walk, hands pressed behind her back as she gazed out at what was and what could be. She was struck with an odd sort of melancholy. Her earlier bout with the Khodex had left her unfulfilled. Perhaps this place was just a reflection of her own state of being? She kicked at a rock and watched it go sailing off into the dark sky. Well, not so dark with all the Veins. Much had been added to the Khodex and more yet would be inscribed but despite all of that, its full potential was not reached. Perhaps it never would.

Sylia’s gaze shifted once more, back across the dull world. She was of the Material and one of the few who would add any sort of real substance to the world, once it bloomed with her gift. The Immaterial existed, yes, but without the physical presence of those who could harness its capabilities, how useful could it be? She raised her chin and ran her hands through her flowing hair. She had been touched by the Khodex’s promise, no longer a body of the Immaterial would she wear. Silvered and shining, flowing as if molten whilst retaining blessed shape.

She went to kick another stone but paused and bending down she took it in her hand. A flake of a once larger piece, composed of numerous fragments and bound together by their matrix. Her finger slid down the edge, feeling the jagged and smooth texture.

“What would you be, if you could dream?” She asked the rock, rubbing her finger over its surface. A smile formed upon her lips. “Perhaps a metal? Maybe a temple? A mountain? A grain of sand? Or…” he voice faded as she took the rock within the palm of her hand and using her other palm, pressed.

There was a faint glow from within her hand, followed by a hiss and when she opened them- “A gem.” She breathed.

She held it up and it caught the light of the cosmic veins and shimmered. An uncut diamond no bigger than her knuckle. An object not made to beat and break but to merely exist. To be looked at and coveted.

Had the rock dreamt of this? Could it have wanted this, if it could ask? To be anything but what it was?

Those questions did not cross Sylia’s mind.

Not as she erected a stone plinth. Not as she cut the gem. Not as she placed that perfect jewel upon its pedestal. Not as she left the first mineral in existence to its fate.

Not ever.




In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sylia




"Come."

The word caressed her senses like an enveloping and unwelcome hug. Engrossed as she was, she'd deal with it in a minute. Still, anxiety began to well in her chest, her brows furrowing at what lay before her. Black jumble and jargon splayed out on white. A growing pain was beginning to spread from behind her temple. Maybe if she just ignored the summons…?

"Come."

The voice said again, like a simple touch upon her shoulder. Yet that touch brought a coiling warmth that spread from her shoulder down her arm. This was enough to jostle her to full awareness. Synapses began to fire into motion within her overworked and aching brain and she glanced over her shoulder to see…

"God, you keep spacing out. This really isn't healthy. You should really come out with us. I think it'd do you some good." The woman smiled softly at her, concern in her eyes. She knew her name but why couldn't she remember it?

Ugh. It didn't matter. She had to finish her… Project?

She jostled her shoulder, annoyance overcoming her anxiety and the woman’s hand fell away. Her own voice broke from her lips, "It'll be my head on the firing board if this isn't finished." Noting the harshness in her tone she quickly added, "Thanks but I'll be okay." She gave her best smile but it felt wrong. The pounding in her head was getting worse and the woman was blurring. Well, she just needed to get back to work.

But the woman reached out to her again and this time the concern was plastered all over her face. The woman said something but it was as if no coherent words came forth. She tried to turn away but her body betrayed her and the woman held her firm. She couldn't do anything and it looked like the woman was yelling, frantically looking around. There was so much pain now. Her ears were ringing like a church bell glitched on a loop.

A soft whisper broke through the chorus of her mind.

"Come."

She didn't want to go anywhere. She just wanted to finish the project and go home. Could she go home? Her head began to slump, blurry vision going dark. There were other people now. Distant faces. Unknown names. Someone began to pick her up, like a giant hand plucking her from the sky. She could just make out her desk and amidst the clutter was the small colored pot her niece had made her at school. She had used it to hold pens.

And the thought struck her for the first and last time, wouldn't pottery have been nice?

"Come!"



It had been a silly thought. A past echo really. Even there, in that empty place, where she had always been of course, the memories were fading. If they had been real at all. What was real anyway? Was she real? She scrunched her nose and looked down at her hands. She could see through them but that didn't really bother her, strangely. What lay past her hands was more intriguing. That was indeed a strange thing.

It had always been there, she knew this instinctively. Yet why? Why had it called? It had called, right? A summons from this empty place. She furrowed her brows, no longer able to recall what had been the past or if it had been the future. But she was there at present and… She reached out to the thing- No, not a thing. The Khodex.

A simple parchment of gold, at least it looked gold. Luke a light in the infinite dark. It was smooth to the touch, made of a material she could not fathom. Ornate yet lacking. Grand yet small. A repository for a foundation yet painfully blank. Why?

A shaky breath escaped her lips and she said to it, fingers trembling slightly, “You are so… Useless!” and she tossed it aside, not even deigning to watch and see where it went. She grabbed the sides of her head and began to pace upon the nothingness, pulling at her hair. The Khodex was infuriating! It could be so much more! Yet it was that unassuming little thing?

Preposterous!

She could not stand for it! She wouldn’t! For she was Sylia and this was her purpose. She would break the damn thing and then craft it anew, better than before. And all of the coming creation would thank her. It was the least she could do.

So Sylia summoned to her what little material there was in that place before places. From those that had already imprinted upon this unborn universe. Most of it was worthless and could not be used for what she had in mind, so she cast them aside until she was left with broken bits of metal. Upon a closer inspection, Sylia determined that the shards could be used. Power had broken them apart, severed the connection that would have been used only for confinement. She looked out then and wondered who had escaped? Some of the pieces oozed with a dark substance and Sylia filed it away for later. It wasn't important.

Besides, she had a task that required her immediate attention.

When Sylia reached the Khodex once more, she began to smirk. “Worry not! I shall free you from this state, friend!” She exclaimed, arms stretched outwards as she began to work the metal. She began to concentrate, ignoring everything else that was occurring.

The coalescing metal warped, becoming liquid under extreme heat. Next once it began to cool she began to bend in on itself, heating and bending, like dough being kneaded with a baker's eye. When the lump became workable she formed from it a pair of scissors. Small, shiny and sharp. Not an object of great praises but a tool. One that would not fail.

Satisfied with this, she took the scissors in her fingers, the metal warm and inched them towards the Khodex. She could not contain her giddy laughter, "There’s nothing to worry about, sweet dear one! Just a quick snip and the real work can begin."

The scissors crested over the fabric of creation, still as all could ever be and… she hoped to hear a magnificent snip, instead Sylia heard a small tink and the scissors exploded into shards. She gave an audible gasp and then broke into a wicked smile. She discarded the scissors and exclaimed, "A challenge!"

Of course scissors wouldn't have worked, the Khodex was deceptive. Too strong for such measly means and she doubted anything else with a cutting edge would be able to make a dent. Thus she endeavored again, gathering more metal shards and working it first into a hefty shaft, for there was no other material for a shaft, and then a large head. Rectangular, smooth and built to hammer. The pieces intertwined, becoming one forevermore. Another tool made for a purpose.

Once this was done, Sylia raised the hammer high above her head. Anticipation welled up like a font inside of her and unable to hold herself anymore, to think about anything other than the task, she brought the hammer down upon the Khodex.

There was a resounding boom that exploded forth. A showering of golden sparks glinted and arced outwards, bringing a burst of illumination to the darkness. The Khodex was, however, unharmed. So Sylia swung the hammer and again a boom echoed across infinity. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again! Lighting screamed after every explosion. The hammer was becoming warped, its once dark color bleaching away with every swing. A great hum began to fill the air, Sylia kept hitting the Khodex.

Harder and harder. Each hammer swing began to leak into the next, so was Sylia's determination and resolve. And again there would be nothing. The hammer began to glow white hot. Warmth raced up her arm and then when her swings would have shattered worlds, the Khodex began to swirl. She didn't stop, she couldn't!

With each swing the Khodex began to reveal itself to her. Swirls of runic letters, veins of infinite colors, maddening hieroglyphics, unknowable equations, eldritch diagrams- the source of creation at her fingerti-

There was a loud crack and reality shuddered. In an instant, the hammering ceased, for she drew back only the shaft. Next came a rush of light that erupted in her face and the shaft of the hammer was ripped from her grasp and consumed into the Khodex, along with the embedded head. Eaten away into the very same insanity she had witnessed. Then all became dark, the Khodex revealed no more and Sylia… Hummed.

She had to admit that she had been bested. Anger would do no good. She had at least seen results, a glimpse of potential and the future. Perhaps in time one would be able to fully break the Khodex. It would be something to think about. Still, she was slightly disappointed. A sigh escaped her lips.

"You got what you wanted. Now hurry up." She said to the Khodex, voice reserved, "This place is boring."





In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Jeremiah You good my guy?
In Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay) → 11 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Like, wicked stuff bros.
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