SepticGentleman

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

They rode on the edge of the desert of K’num, with more men and more horses than they had days ago. Their leader was at the frontmost point, pressing his corrupted steed to move faster and faster. There was something wrong with the animal however - apart from the very obvious, terrible sludge seeping from its orifices, as well as the gaping wound along its neck - it was stumbling every now and again. The man riding it seemed to look quite irritated, gritting his teeth, hitting the horse’s neck repeatedly.

It gave. It messed a step, fell forward, and tumbled on the sands, sending the leader rolling as well. He arose quickly, stepping towards the struggling horse. He yelled, kicking its side, and then drew his serrated blade. He swiped and stabbed at the horse several times, causing more and more of the fetid blood to pour out on the scorching desert sand, along with the creeping, crawling things that inhabited it. They shriveled up as they touched the ground, averse towards the heat.

The leader’s inverted pupils twitched as he looked down at the horse, something in his throat making a clicking noise. Suddenly, he built up an angry, terrible yell, that surrounded the expanse around the corrupted party.

He turned to one of his men, who’d all stopped as his horse gave out. He pointed at the closest one’s horse and yelled, “GIVE ME YOURS.” Almost immediately, the man dismounted his horse and left it for the leader to use. The corrupted man deigned to ride backside with someone else, as the leader saddled up and called out, “MOVE.”

The party resumed their journey through the desert’s outskirts, on the way to… somewhere, for no pleasant reason. Anyone who could see the dozens-strong band would probably do well to avoid them.

They left the fallen horse stretched out on the sand. It still twitched occasionally, steam rising from the corrupted black blood as it and its inhabitants shriveled up, one by one, and died.

---

Nahargu’ul

Somewhere out in the waters

Hagers.

Hagers.

Hagers.

Nahargu’ul couldn’t get it out of his mind. Hagers. After all this time, he thought the damned place would have eroded into obscurity. He had no eyes on the mainland proper, just the waters at the coasts. The Silence caused this - the Gatekeeper punished the Pantheon for the Cataclysm by seeding another one? The bastard. Five centuries to freely fester, grow, and corrupt.

Hagers.

The name played in his thoughts over and over again as he sat on the bedrock of the ocean, doing nothing worthwhile with his time - like always. His intention was to come back and breath awe, fear, and servitude into seafarers once again. But now, he was so clouded by the thought of this one past mistake blowing up in such a manner that…

He wondered how well he could keep the truth from his siblings, obviously besides Del Sombra, the omniscient cur. Hagers’ downfall was Nahargu’ul’s unintentiomal doing, but the story behind it all - a mistake. Worse yet, an embarrassment.

Hagers.

Could Vorris handle this task on his own? He had no idea what the destination possessed in terms of forces on the land. It could be any number, with all the time it’s had to spread. Maybe it would be a proper idea to request assistance from the other gods, have them send their own champions to assist the Mariner and-

“Oh, Nahargu’ul, God of Vast Waters…”

The Sea-Fiend’s head perked up as he heard the words spoken to him. He looked skyward, towards the water’s surface - an angel stood on a raft of light, staring down into the deep, calling for the attention of the god that lies below. And Nahargu’ul’s immediate thought was - damn it, they’d found him out already. The thought after that - no, no, this is unrelated. What was going on?

“Yes, messenger?” The waters replied to the angel.

“Good lord of the seas, the Everqueen beckons you and yours for an audience within the Sweetwater River delta.”

“For what reason?”

“There is a demonic blight wrought upon the land, by the hands of what is believed to be a demon lord. A remnant of the Cataclysm. He and his have corrupted the land, and the Everqueen is seeing to the rectification of the matter.”

“This is a matter for the mainland, messenger. The waters, they… hmm…”

There was a moment of pause. The angel asked of the god, “Yes?”

“Perhaps… I am being too dismissive… yes, yes, tell Kalla I will answer her summons.”

“Yes, Nahargu’ul. I thank you for your answer to the Everqueen’s request.”

“Hmmm…”

As the angel departed, Nahargu’ul paused for thought again. Evidently, Hagers was not the only problem the mainland was suffering from - why would it be? Perhaps, this meeting would provide him with the assistance he desires. Although, it seemed safer to say Kalla would hold the demonblight in much higher alert. But Hagers was on a track to pollute all the waters of the world - something had to be done. The least he could do was ask.

He made for Sweetwater immediately.

---

Isabella

Southern Erathel, in a roadside settlement

Yigzavath had sent Isabella to begin seeding the rebirth of the Acolytes, and the seeding was going well. She’d taken a worm-brained horse out into the field, and rode through two settlements, now on her third. She knew the locations of a good few villages, not exactly wallowing in filth and illness, but good enough to form a skeleton crew within the course of a few days.

Isabella came as a pale woman bearing a cure-all for those with sickly spirits, and for that she was beginning to be lauded. The Healers Guild heard none of this yet, and it might be an issue when they do. But that was a matter for later. As she offered the placebo worm to a disheveled man seated against the wall of the dirtied establishment, she heard talk from the other passersby.

“Demons?”

“Yes, demons! Samuel’s gone and seen them out on his routes! They’s comin’, and we’s all dead when they get here!”

“Well, bloody - we go with Guillard then. He was talkin’ with that girl in the purple, looked awfully chipper. And his leg looked a good lot better from his marrow sickle.”

“Marrow sickle, that’s goin’ around. Gettin’ out of town seems like a damn good idea, it does.”

People were eager to leave, it seemed. Maybe that would make things easier for Isabella. She had to wonder, though - about the demons. She had not personally encountered them, but she had heard plenty of talk. They never attacked Pecher’s Valley when it was still inhabited. Why? She couldn’t make up a reason. Didn’t matter though, whole place was burned down into the darkness of the miles-long crack it was built in. She did her best to stop thinking about it.

Demons… they could be a problem as well. But if she took her time, did things subtly, and quickly, then she could simply lie low in the Infested Workshop alongside Yigzavath. Wait for the right time to strike at wherever needed striking first.

For now, however, she had people to ‘cure’. And then she had to get the hell out of here. Demons or no, she had a schedule to keep.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

I'm still around. Kinda busy, but if this picks up pace, I'll be on the wagon.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

That's why fresh RPs tend to dry up during the school seasons. Folks got tests and homework trying to eat their blood and drink their children.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

I like writing Vorris. He does things in a 'I'm just trying to do my job' kind of way.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

Vorris

Talpike fishing village, on the southern coast

Talpike was a simple village. Small, relatively unguarded, rested by the beach overlooking the Palidari Sea. The folk there were - for lack of any better word - survivors, through dull times at the least. The occasional bandit party, or stray demonic vermin, as managed to be dealt with, if only with a little hassle involved. They made their business out of catching whatever floated by, oftentimes going out on small vessels to try and bring in the bigger catches. The recent season had been withstandable, but not resplendent. All in all, dull times.

Until today.

The waters before Talpike rumbled at the coming of Vorris and his leviathan mount. Villagers stopped their walking about to look towards the docks, watching as from the waters ahead, the colossal eel rose up, with Vorris astride on its cranium. It did not roar, that would frighten the villagers even more than they already were, what with its mere presence. The leviathan’s head hung over the outwardmost pier, and Vorris leapt from it, making a landing on the water-soaked wood. He did not turn back towards the creature as it turned away, and returned to the ocean depths.

The villagers looked on - some in awe, some in fear - as the mariner made his way across the pier, towards the village itself. The villagers began to crowd, stepping away from him. Several men, wearing shabby armor and wielding spears, breached the crowd. “Hold it right there!” One of them called out, raising his spear towards Vorris, who did not falter.

“I said stop!”

He didn’t stop.

The guard lurched forward with his spear in stabbing-position, only for it to be promptly grabbed and broken by the mariner, who then shoved the guard aside half-gently. He reared back and said to his comrades, “G-get him!”

But they didn’t. They just kept their spears raised and watched as he continued forth, the crowd parting a way for him. He turned his head towards a shop, and made a turn for it. He opened the door and stepped through, the guards standing by, watching. Some of them seemed to ease up a bit, however. Vorris stood and scanned the shop’s interior for a bit, the aged shopkeeper and his son standing alert behind the counter. They all waited for him to make a move.

Vorris singled out his vision on a stack of folded parchments. ‘Map of the Realm, Revision 14, 15 copper’ was written on a sign by it. He walked over, picked up a map copy, and unfolded it. He looked it over briefly, before taking it over to the counter. He gently placed the map down, reached into his cloak, and pulled out a few coins. Coins that had been sitting on his person for more than five centuries. Coins taken from the sunken wreckages of the ocean, for a ‘maybe one day’ scenario. And such a day turned out to be this one indeed.

Vorris held the coins forward, but then paused for a minute, wiping off the watery brine that covered them. They quickly turned from dull greens and whites to brilliant golds with the muck gone. He placed them on the table, and the shopkeeper’s son carefully stepped forward to take them. The shopkeeper himself looked at them in surprise. “Th-those are datalins… from the old Ermio Kingdom's last decade…”

“These are worth a small fortune!” The son said, in disbelief. They both looked as Vorris nodded, took the map, and turned to exit the shop. The guards stood in his way, but this time, the mariner simply waited. “Let him go, he’s not hurting anyone!” The shopkeeper’s son called out. Hesitantly, the guards complied, and let the mariner through. Vorris exited the shop, tipped his hat as a polite gesture towards the surrounding townsfolk, and headed for the town’s exit. No one bothered him any further.

He looked at the map along the way. Hagers wasn’t marked, as expected, but he knew where it was on the southwest coast. He found his current location on the map, Talpike, and deigned to make his way northwestward.

Been a long while since he saw the mainland. He’d get to see what all had changed in five centuries.

Probably a lot.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

Isabella and Yigzavath

The Infested Workshop

“...and the last two official Acolytes, my mother Amelia, and my father Delardt… they both died during the razing of Pecher’s Valley.” Isabella said to her god. She was recounting the recorded events of the last several hundred years, through a small stack of papers. All that had befallen the Acolytes, down to the very last one, seated before Yigzavath.

“This… Healers Guild, was responsible?” Yigzavath questioned.

“Yes. Other parties were involved but, it was primarily their doing.”

“And nothing is left?”

“Well now, they call it Pecher’s Grave. Burnt rubble and refuse that goes on for miles. Bones still crumbling into dust…” She paused for a moment as she recalled the image in her head. “It’s no longer suitable for any form of life. Not… not even your creations.”

Yigzavath groaned, shaking his head, his limbs twitching. “So much has been wiped away… we will have to start from the ground up. And this Healers Guild must be dealt with.”

“I agree wholeheartedly.” Isabella replied, “I already have a list of all their dominant locations, a proper plan for which to attack in what order-”

“Enough.”

Isabella shut her mouth.

“We must first see to the rebuilding of the Acolytes. And such a task falls upon you.”

“I…” Isabella replied, “I don’t think it will be that easy. Times have… changed, since your absence. The idea of sick-spreading is looked down upon even in the lowest-rung societies, and-”

“Stop.” Yigzavath interrupted, “I will not just have you go about merely offering allegiance through words. You will find the sick, the downtrodden, and you will offer them relief from their ills.”

“And how will I… provide them, said relief?”

“Give me your arm.”

Isabella hesitated for only a moment before standing up and raising her left hand, extending her arm, which the Filthmonger promptly took hold of with his own. Isabella watched, shaking a bit as from the hives on Yigzavath’s arm, centipede-like creatures began to emerge, traveling down towards Isabella’s hand, biting at her flesh and burrowing into the wounds. She grunted, trying to bear through the pain. Yigzavath held her arm firmly, as more and more varied insects flew out of his flesh to hers, both flying and crawling. The skin on Isabella’s arm began to turn a fetid shade of brown, bursting with nests and hives identical to the Filthmonger’s.

Yigzavath let go of her arm. She stumbled backwards, and watched her arm swarm with centipedes, locusts, and a selection of other insects. She panted a bit, though thankfully, the pain began to dull itself - one of the creatures’ doing, most likely. She got back up on her feet, and Yigzavath spoke again.

“Razor moths for offense. Torch flies for utility. Basic creatures, those and more. And the placebo worms, they will be your bargaining tool. They will alleviate any symptoms of any blight from one’s person, making them carriers… and they will hear its voice, prodding their brain, directing their thoughts towards one clear action - becoming an Acolyte.”

“Against their will?” Isabella questioned.

“It will mold their will until that is all they desire. Even when the worm expires, it is all they will think of. Until we have a sizeable force, we must not take chances with potential exposure.” He paused for a moment and asked, “Do you object to these methods?”

“No.” Isabella replied, without hesitation. “No, I do not.”

“Good.”

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

We all laugh now, but tomorrow Louis will singlehandedly destroy an entire civilization.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

<Snipped quote by SepticGentleman>

I HAVE APPROXIMATE KNOWLEDGE OF MOST THINGS.

@JunkMail

IF YOU SQUEAL I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL EAT YOUR FAMILY.

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

Del Sombra is always watching. L:3

@Tangletail

But here's the thing - she may know what Nahargu'ul knows, but does she know what I know?

Age of Rebuilding: Return of the Gods

@SepticGentleman You said violently kill an entire village... Can Asivar watch? I mean it will be the first bloodshed by divine means (sort of). No way the god of bloody battles and the starter for the infamous God Wars wouldn't want to see it, no? Would there be a way to sense the upcoming onslaught?

@Legion02

I'd say Nahargu'ul wants to keep the background of the whole incident under wraps, but if Asivar wants to watch (or hell, even send someone in his stead to take part), all he has to do is not ask questions.