Current
Boy, you're like a pizza cutter: all edge and no point.
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likes
4 yrs ago
I think I should write a pithy roleplay about how an expenditure of effort does not entitle you to your perception of an equivalent reward. Anyone know someone who'd be interested?
7
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5 yrs ago
Okay, let's be honest for a second here, if we stop the status bar from being edgy angst land it really doesn't have anything going for it except sheer autism.
2
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5 yrs ago
Does anyone know where you can get a white trilby embroidered with threatening messages? Asking for a friend.
3
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5 yrs ago
My genius truly knows no bounds. Only an intellect as glorious as mine can possibly G3T K1D.
Deo’Irah’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of witch-hunters, her otherwise serene face tensing in some micro-display of… something. Contempt. Weaponised ignorance, fueled by a zealotry matched only by those followers of Korval Irah paid particular attention and obeisance to–and though the expression lasted only a fraction of a second, Irah’s thoughts and feelings were of course open to Kinder: there was no fear of their abilities or their persecution, only a tense knot of worrying how much energy they’d have to expend that could otherwise be used productively. She hoped only that they’d let words solve their differences, rather than force her to… well. She did not let her mind drift precisely to the consequences, hoping that forbearance would help her channel the mien of mercy she’d require to ameliorate this particular situation most effectively. She internally mused for a moment how much more exciting this little visit to Borstown was becoming than she’d intended–she even considered for a second that the Lady Bor might have concocted this adventure as a last try to find worthy heirs of her legacy, but quickly dismissed the thought: it seemed both impractical and callous, neither of which she read in the diminutive lady of the house.
”Thank you for the answers, Lady Bor. We will do what we can to save your guests.” Irah replied, her tone even and measured. She took her left palm and extended it out towards Lady Bor, held it for a half-second, and placed it upon her heart gently as she turned to walk up the path towards the manor. She studied Lhirin, glad he’d finally realised how rude he’d been without meaning to and at least attempting to make amends. Still, there was no time–before the others walked up, she leaned in to whisper to him in Gazzerashei:
”Witch-hunters–they will target me over even the summoner, as soon as they realise I am currently hosting an angel. Never mind my other forbidden talents–be sharp. We mustn’t kill them, but nor can we brook their interference. I will… explain to the human knight–he reminds me of you. Not telling you the truth ends poorly.” she spoke, her words somewhat hurried given that all were going to begin making their way into the manor soon. As the various tributaries once again converged into a great river Irah made sure once again to fall by the side of Sir Yanin Glade, to continue their conversation from earlier–and she prompted him to lean down a little and listen to her.
”... I sense that you appreciate directness, Yanin, so I will be direct.This is, indeed, not my first time…” she began, her tone candid but playful, and a surprisingly mirthful smirk upon her face, ”... the witch-hunters are going to be problematic. You can expect them not to be friendly to us–we should deal with them accordingly.” she finished, though her tone stiffened towards the end and the congeniality seemed to cool a little as she focused up and walked forwards, striding confidently up the stone steps towards the doors within–she breathed in steadily through her nose and returned to a position of familiar aloofness, suddenly quite uncertain about her snap judgement of Sir Yanin and the confidence she’d placed in him with her allusion. She only hoped it would buy them enough time–she could explain things in more detail later, the lens of gratitude their inevitable success would later provide affording her a much more agreeable environment with which to provide answers. Truthfully, she would not lose much even if he reacted poorly–nothing short of mindless aggression he had thus far not displayed would be a problem she could not simply deal with later.
Irah permitted herself a little smirk at Jordan’s comment, quite amusing given the situation she now found herself in, though she imagined that he’d heard her too and might perhaps be rethinking the statement. She did not permit herself to look at him to determine his reaction, however, as the elder Nightwalker withdrew his blade. The world around Irah seemed to pale in comparison, suddenly, as from a perfectly mundane scabbard, a perfectly mundane grip drew forth something decidedly extraordinary. Irah felt her heart quicken for a moment and a short gasp escaped her lips involuntarily. ”Jehla vrehiel…”
Sartal. She’d always wondered why the Nabathsetwehl'amet'sartal never bought any inventory from them, even though she’d offered to sell to them at very reasonable rates. It was one of the great mysteries of her people, and something she’d idly let mull about in her thoughts for a long time now–something she’d not gotten any closer to a real answer on. She struggled for a second to regain her previous decorum as she stared at it intensely, her eyes taking on something of the feral quality that was normally only observed in Lhirin. The thoughts consumed her for a second more than she’d have liked before she gained some measure of control over herself and managed to speak again of her own volition, eyes blinking as though she’d just stared into the sun itself for a moment. It was a droplet of water weeping down and landing in her still-held hand that broke her from her reverie, and just as quickly as her eye refocused they became trained on Freagon.
”I would like to hear the story of that blade, when the day is won.” she spoke to Freagon in Fermian, assuming that he could understand the language if he had a blade made of sartal. A fresh wave of nausea made her stop for a moment, and she made a gentle movement with her finger to prompt a little stream of water to make its way to her mouth so she could sup from it. She cleared her throat for a second and composed herself, feeling unusually unsteady in that very heady way as she fought to unify her errant and fraying thoughts.
She would wait a moment for everyone to catch up (though she of course kept an eye out for Jaelnec, who she expected might attend her as she had looked somewhat unwell for a second) and focused on breathing, letting herself settle into a gentle rhythm of breath. She realigned her senses with the world, feeling the flow of her magical energy and the way that it clashed against the divine energy of Kinder residing within her, and focused on her surroundings more intently. She would need to be keenly aware of her surroundings given Lady Bor and Kinder’s warnings–and as she extended her awareness outwards, she became increasingly aware of… she was not quite sure. It felt so odd–the streams of magic that she extended outwards to the water above her in order to manipulate it… She turned her head upwards to look, the water’s otherwise perfectly smooth form beginning to drip in places, the halo seeming almost to melt beneath the gaze of some unseen sun.
She willed even more of the energy out than before for a brief second, feeling the further outpouring buoy her control of the mass of water above her. She stepped back for a moment, retreating to the very entrance of the armoury, and willed around half of the water that she’d been using down, her hand clenching slightly as she ceased providing the magical energy to manipulate it and set it down by the garden. She also extended her awareness out towards the assembled multitude of individuals that appeared to be answering adventure’s call–she could feel Lhirin even now, like the charge in the air before a storm. Bristling and ready. The others… she didn’t think it was coming from them, but in order to know that, she’d have to know more than she presently knew: which was nothing.
”... there are, I think, 12 angels inside–one of them far more powerful than the others. There’s also something happening to my magic…” she began, looking towards Lhirin (no doubtedly having experienced the same thing as her) for an explanation when none came to her.
When the next set of doors were opened and the group advanced into the hall, Irah’s attention snapped immediately towards the wounded man and his cries for help–and then to the wraith that had (quite rudely) animated some of Lady Bor’s furniture. Her first thought was to what type of angel this might be, and which God it would belong to: if she was lucky, it might be the sort of spirit she may be able to talk down… If she was even luckier, it might be one that could provide her with useful information. Still, more likely than that was that it’d get beaten to a pulp before she had to expend any of her limited (and suddenly increasingly taxed) magical energy. Her eyes flashed immediately to Madara, too, and she nodded in the direction of the wounded man–though she didn’t explicitly speak in the moment, her body language and gesticulations were such that it would be obvious of her intention: they’d best move together, seeing as their skills would be needed together.
Satisfied with the answer, Irah looked Nabi up and down and made various judgements about her appearance: she noticed first that Nabi’s eyes were similar to her own, crimson-red and intense. She was adorned well, too: flashes of silver in her ears, glints of ruby elsewhere, and a heavy pack of provisions she hefted about with ease. Some sort of traveller, though clearly on foot–where she’d come from was a mystery to Irah, but she did not afford herself the time to ponder it further before the ribbon of water whipped itself back up into her halo with a gentle splash. She didn’t speak any further to Nabi, instead motioning with her eyes and a nod of her head as she continued onward toward the manor.
As Sir Yanin spoke to her she paid him rapt attention, leaning in in an almost-conspiratorial fashion:
”Lhirinthyl, lightning mostly–though he’s also good against metal. He is deadly; be careful. I am Deo’Irah–Water is my element, as you can see. I am less lethal but not less dangerous.” she spoke, clear and concise, and her eyes flashing upward as she mentioned water. She glanced over at Yanin and Jordan for a moment, then, too: they seemed to be the sort to physically engage with their targets to perhaps the exclusion of all else (though, as she glanced down to his weaponry and noted the falcon-and-viper, she wondered if indeed his tongue might be as sharp as the blade). They could be relied upon to put themselves between her and harm’s way, whatever that ended up being.
She studied Freagon next, and Jaelnec (though it was immediately clear he was the underling in that relationship), focusing intently on Freagon. The way that he looked (she thought, quietly seething about how difficult it was to tell where Nightwalkers were looking and thus what they were interested in) at Sir Yanin was… well, it made her gaze feel soft by comparison. Two dominant personalities clashing, perhaps: she’d have to be very careful about how she negotiated her way around those two, if they were both to be useful without clashing. She would not suffer dissension in the ranks, not with innocent lives at stake. Still–the Knights of the Will… they’d been extinct longer than any given Nightwalker lived, hadn’t they? How could what he was saying be true?
She made sure to meet Jaelnec’s wandering gaze briefly, attempting to catch it during its arc between Fraegon and Yanin. She offered him a demure smile, a slight exhalation of breath escaping her nose, before she turned to look towards the rapidly unfolding situation. Her eyes widened a little as she looked down at the Baroness–quite the unusual turn of events, as she’d gotten rather used to looking up at people when travelling with Lhirin–and noted her lack of desire to be… attended to. That was the sort of thing that Irah would expect from an adventurer-turned-noblewoman, and a penin nevertheless. She had almost forgotten that Lady Bor was a penin, but the chatter she’d overheard about it when initially picking up the trail of her call to adventure was quite insistent on the fact that she was (and unusually so, in Irah’s mind–why should the fact she was a penin matter at all?).
She watched Lhirin ask his questions eagerly, her assessment of the Baroness increasing to the point that she wondered if they were simply being a bit precious with their high concept of duty–-she needed protecting, of course, but Irah could see a glimmer of independence in her that perhaps merited a lighter hand. She cringed at the sound of the bronze blade cleaving through the rock, settling her nerves by taking a smooth breath in through her nose and holding it, exhaling the irritation with it. She would teach him again about his manners later, for now, there was work to do. She stepped aside from the gathering in front of the gates (stealing a quick glance in the direction of Jaelnec as she did so) and stepped down the path briskly to join him, sensing her presence might be necessary after all to calm down Lhirin’s wild intensity. Not that she would make it any less intense: but less wild was usually a start.
”How many guests? You may not know of the wraiths formally, but how did they manifest, or what effects did they produce? Can you describe the summoner, so we can pick them out?” Irah continued, specifying Lhirinthyl’s questions with the softer details he might neglect. She continued to hold the water aloft above her without a second thought, only her right hand held demurely in an almost-clenching motion with her fingertips. The sudden burst of effort had somewhat sullied her robe, alongside administering to the patients nearby–and as she noticed, she directed a little ribbon of water to wash the bits away idly, while she looked at the diminutive figure of the Lady her periphery made sure to focus inwards, absorbing details in and around the house before them. In the back of her mind, she made sure also to keep Kinder informed of the goings-on, freely sharing her perceptions of the world and her thoughts. Playing host to a divine as she was, after all, was quite an advantageous position to be in for this particular predicament. She wasn’t sure whose favour she curried, to have been sent exactly where she appeared to be needed, but she did not permit herself to consider it more than that.
There was a tense moment of attention when Lhirinthyl–and she only used Lhirinthyl to admonish him or otherwise express her frustration--forgot for a moment all of the manners that she’d spent the trip back to Jihni'mah'jehla'nai and then from there to Rodoria trying to drill into him… and even more spectacularly than usual, forgetting not only basic social rules but also the concept of physical space. He then spoke to her in a different language from the others in the room, and not even in Fermian, which maybe someone might have been able to understand and simply assume they were speaking in their mother tongue–instead in Gazzerashei, of all things, just to tell her he was going to the Manor?! She took a brief second to steady herself as a fresh wave of nausea assaulted her senses, and a brief moment of dizziness caused her control of the little orb of water next to her to waver and ripple slightly. She took in a quick breath as the eyes of… well, most of the people in the room seemed to focus on her, and she quickly composed herself and spoke quickly:
"He is my bodyguard and travelling companion, and he’s going to the Manor to investigate. You should follow, we have the situation in ha–” she began, only for the clarion call of the bell to draw everyone’s attention. Everyone’s attention–even the wounded, who all froze in abject terror at the mere prospect. It was bad, then–and Lhirin was right just a little bit before everyone else. As usual. She took a look over at the other wounded, taking into account their injuries as best she could with the casual glance she’d be able to get. None seemed like they’d expire within the hour, the only imminently urgent case being the one that she and Kinder had just healed. The others would require some sort of longer-term convalescence, even with all of the tools at their disposal, and frankly the thing that they really needed was their own healer, returned hale and whole. She turned then to look at the surgeon, her expression focused and calm, her eyes flashing towards the door.
Something about the half-Palanter reminded her of Sel'kahr'wander–a… colleague of hers, a barber-surgeon. Unsurprising, given the shared overlap in their professions, but there was something about the sharpness of her features and her dress that really tipped it over the edge. The same primal edge, honed to something between graceful and savage–she could see it in the beautiful fit of her clothes and how the contrast of the thread glinted in the dim firelight, meticulous detail clear to Irah’s focused gaze. With how neatly organised and clearly well-cared for as her tools had been, it seemed to Irah that she seemed to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, like a predator in waiting. She burst into action herself with the same focus and drive, beginning to dart out of the room and speaking simultaneously:
"Mehknai bre... We should follow--quickly.” she said, her voice steely, and followed just behind Jordan (and Sir Yanin, if he acted more quickly than she) on their way out towards the Manor. Just to her right, clear as day across the way, was a well beside what Irah had presumed was the inn earlier and confirmed upon closer inspection. She made sure to rush out towards it, reaching out with her left hand as she did so, and she once more extended the force of her will out towards the water she knew must lurk below it. She quickly upturned her palm and clenched her fingers inward, feeling it rise up at her call and flow upwards towards her. It burst forth from the well quickly and smoothly, the bucket and rope previously hanging freely below flying up into the air with the force of the movement and falling to the side with a clatter. Irah drew around a hundred or so litres of water from beneath the ground, enough for a large bath, and with clearly-practised movements began to make it twist and turn into something of a halo, almost, floating above her. After a couple of seconds of focusing, and then a couple more to steady herself for whatever might come next, she turned to follow suit and observe the situation as it was. Lhirin, Sir Yanin, and Jordan would have no trouble getting in–Sir Yanin in particular seemed like he was exceedingly difficult to deny entry to, with the forcefulness of his gait and the imposing heaviness of his build. In the distance she could hear the galloping of hooves, much more closely than she expected, given the suddenness of what'd just happened, and her head twisted out towards the sound to catch the sight: two nightwalkers, armoured, and racing toward them. She paid them little other mind in that moment--figuring that Lhirin and the others would engage them should they be foes, to reassess the whole situation.
Then, from the winery across the street, Irah caught a glimpse of something quite unusual in the unusually bright and stark day: an individual clothed in what might as well have been Laon’s own night, with a similar hue in their skin that Irah had never encountered before. She blinked for a second before really registering the information, running towards the gate simultaneously, and with a flex of her right fingers and a pointing motion out towards the figure with her left she willed a ribbon of water to whip out from her towards the figure, frozen in an arc but poised and ready to lash out. She made no immediate assumptions about the figure, but given the timing of the bell and the skulking she was attempting to do in broad daylight, Irah elected simply to call out in Rodorian:
”Friend or foe?” and ceasing her own movements while still holding herself in that state of readiness.
With two unknown parties having joined the fray suddenly, she looked over toward Jordan and Yanin for further instruction, expression tense and alert, and then behind her to see if the surgeon had followed too and what she'd brought with her if so.
The sting of the energy flowing through her was intensely familiar, at this point, and though it should have been an unpleasant sensation to her, knowing that enduring it would give somebody a chance to live their life that had almost been cruelly taken away instead made it feel like a worthy burden, something she truly carried with pride. Thankfully, she had been blessed with a much greater resistance to it than most, and she would still be able to call upon Kinder’s powers again if more grievous wounds were present elsewhere–especially if the background chatter she could hear about the Healer being missing was true. Lhirin’s hypothesis was right, then–but she wasn’t surprised. He was far cannier at that sort of thing than anyone she’d ever met–though a few of her… colleagues came quite close.
”Thank you, Kinder–he should direct his thanks to you, in truth, but I know that neither of us do what we do for thanks. I may only take credit for the will that may bring you here, but I also believe that that is all Reina ultimately wants of us: to want her mercy to be here, in our hearts and in our world.” Irah allowed herself to muse while the work was done, but as she felt the telltale rash begin to appear beneath her fingers she knew it was time to stop, and pulled away. The convulsions were not irregular for injuries such as this, and Irah reflexively moved to steady him with her other hand. Before she’d gotten particularly far he’d stopped, however, though she did choose to continue the motion, dropping both of the vials in her free palm onto the bed before bringing it to his and holding it gently.
“Shh, shh–please, you must rest. It is my honour to bring Reina’s mercy to you, but the gift has its price: the taint. Focus on breathing.” Irah smiled in return, her expression a practised mask of kindliness. Though the slight smile that graced her lips was genuine, there was an intensity to how her eyes examined the rest of him for injuries more closely. She couldn’t judge his weight accurately beneath the armour, but if he were fit enough for combat she didn’t think they’d have to worry about using a healing potion for the rest of his injuries–better to let the surgeon do her work knitting flesh and conserve her magical supplies for more serious injuries.
“I’m going to attend the others, but call if you need me.” Irah spoke, letting out a deeply held breath of her own as she took a few deep breaths of her own, looking into his eyes to help him focus and match her rhythm. As she focused, she reached her will out to the water in the air, condensing it into a few droplets of cool water upon the man’s brow. She continued to focus until she’d condensed a small orb of water, floating just to her side, and a tendril of it flowed down towards the man’s mouth, for him to drink if he wished–the water would remain at his lips unless he motioned to drink. After a few seconds she squeezed his hand gently before scooping the vials back up and moving to where Madara was working, placing one of them down a little distance away from the supplies that she’d set out. She left just as quickly, turning on her heel, but said as she did so: “Healing potion–use it freely.”
Irah turned her attention next to the man with the compound fracture. Injuries like this were nasty and needed to be cleaned before they could be fixed magically. Irah could do it with steam, if truly necessary, but it would be extremely painful–there were better methods, especially with the surgeon and her plethora of options. She was careful not to touch him unless necessary to adjust him and get a better look at the extent of the damage, but made sure to bring a similar stream of water to his lips and motioned for him to drink freely as she examined his wounds more closely.
Irah bustled past the giant of a man guarding the doorway the moment he permitted it, her mouth forming the shapes necessary to say “thank you”, though no words came out. She caught the attention of the half-Palanter Madara very briefly, and the anticipation and tension within her eased significantly. The first thing she noticed was the sleeves: a colleague of hers, a barber-surgeon, was always meticulous about keeping his sleeves pristine, though the rest of his clothes often got to luxuriate in the rewards of his sanguinary work. He was more… elegant and refined, of course, being a true deigan–but there was something very sharp and striking about the figure of this apparent surgeon too that made the corner of her mouth wrinkle happily at the thought. She wasted no time indulging herself in these thoughts when there were those in need, however, and as she immediately directed her attention towards the one that Madara had pointed out to her.
From the corner of her eye she saw a yet-hale Fadewatcher scrambling to put a pot of water on the fire, and with her free right hand she beckoned him to put the pot down and directed some small measure of her focus towards the water in it. She could almost feel the water within it, the placidity and stillness reminiscent of what it felt like to use her magic, and she instead pushed forth all of the urgency she could muster and released it from herself as pure energy (accompanied by a quick prayer in Fermian asking Arhoun for his blessing). It would take a few seconds, to be certain, but the water first began to bubble gently at the edges before giving way to a rolling boil. She settled the water again, leaving faint trails of steam to wisp up into the air, before nodding at Madara. “The water’s boiled--I have two healing potions with me, but could make more in… maybe an hour, all told.” she spoke, her voice quick and calm.
"We’re not too late for these men–between myself and this surgeon, we should be able to administer Reina’s mercy without exposing them to the taint… He would expire from the taint before we could restore his fingers, but that head wound looks serious." she spoke internally, beckoning forth Kinder’s divine magic as she walked towards the bed and bent down ever-so-slightly to get a better look. Head wounds were rarely the sort of thing one wanted to leave to the surgeon’s knife if it could be helped: such a precious part of the body was easy to damage, and there was inevitably trauma when one delved into the innards of any mundane creature with a sharp blade. ”Blessed Reina, mother of Mercy, may your light shine forth and banish the Wanderer’s spectre.” she spoke, the prayer leaving her lips less as a conduit for the power she beckoned, and more to give the others the impression she was little more than one who wielded Reina’s favoured power. Truthfully, it was also a legitimate prayer: these were likely innocent men who had sought only to defend themselves and Deo’Irah’s heart fluttered at the thought of their noble sacrifice to protect what they had. Though she’d brought many back from the brink of death in her many, many years as a healer she never once questioned the motives of the people who received of Reina’s beneficence–but she did always prefer to heal those who were truly worthy of mercy.
She arched her hands delicately as she went to investigate the wound more closely, certain to heal only as much as could not be done through alchemical, internally magical, or physical means.
The first thing that Lhirin noted was that it was an absolute disaster of evidence. Blood here, trampled grass there, a battered-in door. Still, despite all that, it didn’t take Lhirin terribly long to absorb it all, nor did it take more than an errant thought for him to dismiss his spell. Rising from a crouch, Lhirin took it all in for perhaps thirty seconds, before following the trail of blood visually back to the crossroads. Turning he noted the direction of the other trail. Part of him wanted to follow it further, but he decided it would be unwise.
Turning his gaze to the weapon he observed its likely nature, then headed towards the building’s interior where he’d seen Irah go. He ran a hand over the splintered wood of the door and frowned. Wasted craftsmanship, a shame. Calling out, Lhirin attempted to get his companion’s attention.
“Come out,” he said, projecting his voice through the house even as he walked back over to the road, looking closer at the blood trail. As he waited he considered past encounters he’d had on his travels, trying to remember why this felt so…familiar.
As Lhirin took his time to ponder and scrutinise and consider in that way he was so proficient in, Irah began to speak under her breath–quiet, confident, and quick. Words very familiar to her indeed, for they were the means to call out to an angel across the divide, and invite them into Reniam–accompanied by a few gestures that, combined with her somber expression and downturned head, would likely give the townsfolk who might be able to observe her the impression of an exotic prayer and little else. In her mind the word formed as naturally as breathing, and as she exhaled she spoke it aloud: ”Kinder…”. It seemed it was time to play the part of the dutiful priestess, for lives were potentially at stake–and it mattered not to her whether the source of Reina’s mercy was hers directly or filtered through one of her angelic host: what mattered to her is that Her mercy was brought into this world and the suffering of the innocent ameliorated. The sensation of the spirit joining hers was at once familiar and surreal, but she paid the sensations no mind as she turned to exit, stepping past Lhirin briskly just as he asked her to join him once more.
With a warmth like sinking into bath-water that was just at the verge of transitioning from comfortable to uncomfortable, somehow both pleasant and painful at the same time, the divine creature dubbed Kinder by its summoner settled into Irah’s form, its spirit immediately and easily assuming a passive and cooperative role as soon as it recognized what was happening.
“Deo’irah? How can I be of assistance?” it asked quickly, its voice pleasant, melodic and faintly feminine inside her skull. The angel was quite used to being called for medical emergencies and knew that there was likely little time for pleasantries if its services were required.
Rather than attempt to lower herself to crude verbiage, Irah simply shared directly with Kinder her memories of the past few moments, and let them feel the burgeoning urgency that swelled within her chest. Once she’d shared all of the information they’d been able to glean, her thoughts began to form words in her head as she began to act, and Irah did not stop for a moment as she rushed herself towards their belongings. Armos regarded her idly as she brushed past his white fur, clambering into the stagecoach in order to find the nested wooden boxes she used as an icebox. Irah extended her will out, carried by the magical energy she let seep from her very being, and as it extended towards the boxes the ice that’d been slightly melted by the unseasonal warmth began to freeze once more. She reached in to grab the two small vials of pulpy liquid–the aforementioned leftover healing potions–that may well save the lives of those injured in whatever happened here. By the time she’d managed to climb back out of the wagon, she was face-to-face with Lhirin again, and she motioned for him to lead the way.
“Do you know where they took the wounded?” she asked, displaying the two vials to him clearly in her right palm. She and Kinder both knew the perils of the divine taint, and they’d need a safer means for injuries that weren’t immediately critical.
Lhirin watched her, sensing a change about her person, one that always made his inquisitive mind curious. Still, now was not the time. “I have a hypothesis,” he said with a nod, expression serious as he led Irah forth. The ox could stay where he was for now, the big animal and the wards on the stagecoach would keep their things safe. Besides, now that he had an understanding of the situation–or at least he thought he did–Lhirin had made a measure of sense out of the behavior of the villagers. No greetings, the one man swearing, then immediately capitulating at the first sign of hostility? This village had suffered some kind of an attack. Recent, but not so much so that the entire village was awash with panic–not that such a thing would do them any good. He thought it sensible that they were going about their business rather than dwelling in the past.
“Blood trail leads back towards the crossroad,” Lhirin clarified after a brief few moments of silence as he continued on. His hand remained on the hilt of his runeblade, even though he was fairly certain that the immediate threat had passed. “There was an attack…perhaps a kidnapping,” he mused aloud, “...one is certain, the other I am not so sure of. Though it is either that or the assailants left wounded.” Lhirin’s eyes narrowed for a moment in thought before widening again as he peered about.
He was looking for any other possible evidence of an attack while they made their way to the crossroads.
Irah’s mind wandered to why he might have suggested a kidnapping, but as he elucidated the thought she found herself readily able to follow it with what they’d seen. Entry had clearly been forced, nobody was present, and there was a trail leading into the forest. It wasn’t one of the wounded dragged towards the crossroads, so reason stood it must either be the healer or their wounded… but why, in that case, was the place as tidy as it was? Perhaps they’d gotten into a skirmish, gotten enough soldiers wounded enough, and taken the healer by force to help recover their losses and hinder their enemy’s plans. A foolish proposition, to Irah’s mind, as it was quite easy to debilitate an individual subtly under the guise of healing–and any trained in healing knew that it was a precarious and fickle mistress, and even idle negligence could be deadly. Still, it was unlike most people to think too much about the consequences of their actions, and the desperate even less so. It seemed to her that everyone in Rodoria was a great deal more desperate than the last time that she’d visited, though that was some time ago now given the troubles that seemed to be engulfing the country.
“I’m inclined to agree with you on the kidnapping–you’re usually right about these things, if occasionally misdirected.” she began, quickly pointing to the Fadewatcher outpost just ahead of themselves where it appeared others were now congregating: several animals appeared to be stationed outside, loaded with gear. Other adventurers heeding the call? Perhaps not–it was a Fadewatcher station, and though the young human guarding it lacked their customary tabard Irah had spent more than enough time passing through Rodoria to recognise a Fadewatcher’s outfit when she saw one. She turned to Lhirin and muttered quickly in Gazzerashei: “Fadewatcher, but no tabard. Two loaded horses. Curious.” as they continued to bound closer toward the station.
Merely nodding in reply, Lhirin followed her lead as they approached the man guarding the door to the outpost. Sensing no imminent danger, Lhirin gave Irah a pointed glance, one that she’d seen before. It simply indicated that it was her turn to handle matters. After all, she was the social genius, between them... and his input was likely to be... poorly received.
Irah’s approach to the door was halted by by the little gathering that she could see occurring, with the perhaps off-duty Fadewatcher talking to a number of children about… the healer, it appeared. Well. If even the kids knew their healer was missing, perhaps it’d been longer than she thought–but she had very little time to consider the implications and instead saw fit to approach the group, clearly displaying the two little vials in her hand.
“You, Fadewatcher–forgive my brusqueness but there isn’t time to dally. The injured appear to have been brought inside, yes? Are we in time?” Irah directed towards Jordan, craning her neck to try and look him in the eyes. Her body language was quite clear–let me in, before it’s too late–but she nevertheless recognised that she would be unable to physically extricate him from the entrance without the situation escalating into something neither of them would want and so awaited his response somewhat impatiently.
⇂↿↾⇃ Name: Deo'Irah ⇂↿↾⇃ Race: True Deigan ⇂↿↾⇃ Age: 100 ⇂↿↾⇃ Height: 5’3 ⇂↿↾⇃ Affinity: Water ⇂↿↾⇃ Soul Strength: 4.25kWh ⇂↿↾⇃ Occupation: Itinerant Alchemist, Scholar, Priestess of Avalz'lihn ⇂↿↾⇃ Languages: Fermian(Native language), Rodorian (Mostly fluent, mixes some words up with Kirkinian), Kirkinian (Fluent), Catalohne(Read/write), and Gazzerashei(Fluent) ⇂↿↾⇃ Magical Talents: Elementalism (Water); Summoning (Partial summons only, and specifically for named divines); Necromancy; A smattering of Arcane spells, which she is not very good at ⇂↿↾⇃ Funds: 750 Rodlin; 100 Kyrin
⇂↿↾⇃ Appearance:
Height: 164cm Weight: 49kg
Hair: Deo’Irah’s feathers are sleek and black, with the vanes becoming more matte toward the edges. The very tips of her feathers glint strangely in the light, almost looking slick with crimson when the light catches them, and at other times as glassy as a sunless sea.
Eyes: Deo’Irah’s irises are a rich ruby with flecks of something more akin to a setting sun, framed by a delicate wave of almost-lashes. Her eyes are wide and bright, and extremely expressive. Her gaze is extremely intense, focused
Skin: Deo’Irah is pale as fresh snow, and looks as if she could’ve been spun from silk and cream. Her face is oddly free of blemishes, though the occasional hazard of her trade is writ across the rest of her alabaster flesh: she is marked by an occasional cut or burn, or an occasional scar–though even these seem to shift in location and severity over time.
Build: Deo’Irah is unnaturally lithe and waifish, even among the slight true deigan–her midriff is slightly elongated and mostly devoid of fat. Deo’Irah is not physically strong, though there is a wiriness to her that suggests a working relationship with her body (albeit, perhaps, an underdeveloped one). She is not particularly buxom, though her bosom is shapely and the little fat she does manage to carry seems to lend her slightly more fullness than her figure might suggest. Her legs are average in length, though somewhat spindly in proportion with the rest of her body.
Face: Irah’s face is characterised by sharp angles, with high cheekbones and fairly closed features. Her nose is quite small and tapered down to a comparatively thin point, accentuated with cosmetics for more formal occasions. Her lips are thin but very shapely, with a well-defined cupid’s bow and gentle wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, a subdued shade of pink that seems to possess a subtle shine in the correct light. Deo’Irah’s brows are particularly groomed, trimmed and shaped into a long arch that follows the natural curves of her eyes–sleek and black, with a matte finish. Her features come together into something that seems imperious and aloof at a first glance, though the earnest warmth of her smile and her extremely animated eyes can cut through the placid iciness of her features if one looks past the severity.
Apparel: Deo’Irah dresses most commonly in a set of white silken robes, tailored to hug and flatter her frame without becoming overt or aggressive. The silhouette is brought in between the hips and bosom to accentuate the natural curves of her body though is otherwise plain, and silver thread adorns the robe in intricate patterns. The stitches mimic the petals of a rose, with the stitching in the seams looking like vines that climb up Deo'Irah's frame and culminating in a hood that is almost always worn down where the stitching resembles an intricate knot of roots, or perhaps something else. Though none of her bare flesh is exposed, the fit of the garment is suggestive in ways that set the mind to wandering--the silhouette invites temptation in a way that feels almost lewd for the mercy and innocence symbolised by Reina's resplendent white. Beneath the robe Deo'Irah wears a simple chemise and trousers, though the fabric of these garments is relatively thin muslin and they serve no purpose other than comfort and hygiene. Adorning the relatively simple robes are many accessories, most of which are silver rings with simple jewel settings--Deo'Irah wears a necklace of silver with several rings threaded onto it, each made of a different type of wood. Among the types of wood are exotic samples such as bonebloom wood, ghostwood, and quiltbark, though their exteriors are smooth with having been worn down and bear several scuffs. Most of the gemstones are only semi-precious, and commonly featured are stones such as amethyst, carnelian, and lazulite. Her hands are adorned with fewer rings than is typical of the true deigan, with only one on each hand: a ghostwood ring set with jet on her left, and an ebony set with soapstone.
Deo'Irah also has a similarly styled set of robes in black, with crimson threads evocative of veins--the shape and fit is otherwise identical to the white robe, though these abandon any pretense at modesty and leave much of the midriff exposed.
⇂↿↾⇃ Personality and Work ▼
⇂↿↾⇃Interests:
Divine Energy (The taint, and how to prevent it)
Botany and Herblore
Various druidic practices, such as: butchering animals without waste, tracking, foraging, farming--general fluency with nature.
Resistance to the divine taint in animals, and potential avatars
Alchemy, all facets
Reina
Rilon
Gazzeral ruins
Orbs of Zhakos
Freedom
⇂↿↾⇃Persona:
Something something something find out in character.
⇂↿↾⇃ History ▼
Something something something find out in character.
⇂↿↾⇃ Belongings & Equipment ▼
General Supplies:
Stagecoach, seats four (practically seats 2, as the rest of the space is used for storage)
Set of alchemist's equipment, bound securely in a large wooden chest.
An icebox, comprised of two wooden boxes with enough space between for water to freeze
A small chest, ghostwood with a sturdy lock, containing several tomes, listed below:
A spellbook, heavily notated in Fermian, containing the following spells: Memory Sphere; Shroud of Silence (creates a sphere that can become various levels of permeable to sound around the caster, allowing them to muffle sounds or completely block sounds with sufficient energy); Call Flame; Summoning spells to invite specifically the divines known as Kinder (an Iriao of Reina) and Weriz (a Swaigh of Rilon) into possession, and Scrying Pool (Water-affinity): Farsight, albeit specifically to static pools of water. Requires extreme familiarity with the area for Irah to be able to cast the spell, which only leaves three areas: a cave beneath the Bonebloom tree, her home (workshop specifically), and the Avalz'lihn churches of Reina and Arhoun.
Botanical Codex, containing Irah's notes on the study of botany in areas she's visited, but more specifically Kirkin, Rodoria, and Catolohne.
Zoological Codex, containing Irah's research on potential avatars, the nature of the divine taint, and her records of animals that may possess resistance to divine energy (and the studies therein).
A pouch, containing a sheathed sharp knife, a sheathed boning knife, and several wooden and metal spoons
2 bedrolls
10 portions of rations (preserved fruits, nuts, seeds, and roots - with some bits of jerky occasionally)
Various mundane chemical supplies, including but not limited to:
Soap, essential oils (flowers, bark, fruits), salt, vinegar, something basic. Various reagents for chemical and alchemical procedures (e.g. sublimation, calcination, etc.)
A small ghostwood flute, meticulously cared for
1 Bonebloom Blossom (100 rodlin)
5g of Etherite Dust (100 rodlin, 20/g)
1 Divine Healing Potion
10g of Fire Dust, securely stored and hidden (50 rodlin, 5/g)
A woolen blanket, large enough to cover an adult male ox, enchanted to lightly insulate against magical energy
Gardening tools
Unique items will be listed individually here if/when they're obtained.
⇂↿↾⇃ Capabilities ▼
Deo'Irah makes her living as an itinerant alchemist, travelling the world in search of new flora to study, catalogue, and use in her creations.Though her primary trade is alchemy, her interests extend beyond that into botany and the study of elemental magic--specifically that of water, her affinity. Deeply religious, Deo’Irah also travels the world doing the work of her goddess Reina on behalf of an organization called the Avalz'lihn (which, to hear Irah speak of it, are simply a group of likeminded individuals seeking to further the agenda of the good gods) and offers her alchemical healing services to any who need it. Deo'Irah will also offer her time and expertise to those who hold mercy in their hearts freely. Deo'Irah's expertise has grown vast and verdant over her long life, and she also boasts among her talents a rudimentary knowledge of summoning (little more than the arcane means to call out to Divines across the divide), a scholarly understand of divine energy, its taint, and potential avatars, with some dabbling into the art of Necromancy. Though her knowledge is quite broad, thanks mostly to her vast wealth of experience, her primary adventuring abilities lie in her knowledge of Alchemy and her Water Elementalism. She also possesses a number of other skills owing to her parentage and her itinerant lifestyle, particularly a fairly thorough knowledge of practical woodworking and carpentry--though this mostly involves repairs to her stagecoach, she is capable of creating reasonable wooden crafts given the resources and time. Her knowledge of botany extends heavily to trees, and she is well-versed in what types of wood are best used for specific purposes.
Divine Taint: 10% Resistance (Reina and Rilon, and their angels): 33% (Three times as resistant, three times longer to restore)
Myrtu couldn’t understand how anyone could focus with all of the new and interesting mortals to see! Sure, they’d ended up sprinting across some grassy plains for years, before said plains suddenly erupted into a forest and of course, that was only after they’d frolicked at the slow pace of the cactus-like mules, which had made the desert their residence. All of that happened after a rousing year-long dive through the seas with the striped fish-ponies, which happened after their years-long visit with the snow-born Onagers, and all of this was just as exciting as what was happening now.
They’d accidentally stumbled upon an interestingly adapted type of Kiang, at the base of a mountain glacier, which carved its way down into a valley, which was surrounded by the New New forest. These Kiang had developed woolen fur that favored a tawny background for its white stripes- hinting toward some merging with Zebras in their ancestry, which was remarkable considering how much time had passed. Their backs were far more powerful, with legs and kicks that stunned even the most vicious flying shark, if well landed, and they had grown a charming set of swept back curved horns. What Myrtu found the most interesting about the Ziang, especially as they followed them through the rocky mountains and up nearly sheer cliff edges, was their ability to find places of fresh water or vegetation with ease. Even when the mountains became white with snow- even when the mountains became topped with weird buildings- the Ziang- the…? Building?
Wait what?
When Myrtu halted, members of the Ziang herd circled around them, as they stared up toward something odd sitting on a nearby mountain top. Silently they inquired of the herd if anyone had managed to travel that far. Of course, the eruption of questions and gossip and tall tales- which these particular Equines were fond of- bombarded Myrtu all at once.
These mortals really loved to make up stories about their great-uncles-cousins-friends-mother that knew a lady that knew a guy that knew a bird once that went somewhere. Ziangs seemed to hate not having an answer but they’d always joke about their ignorance to the point of absurdity on purpose.
Equines truly were fantastic.
And so Myrtu asked, spoke with, and eventually convinced the braver and more willing members of the herd to follow them to that distant mountain- with the assurance that something interesting was (maybe) there. Ten of them followed the lead of Myrtu, who let the slowest member lead, for she was also the one with the keenest sense for finding safe paths.
How none of them managed to starve or die on the year long trek and climb that followed, was nothing short of a miracle in itself. Between avalanches and the fact that Myrtu saw the building at a distance far greater than the perception of mortals, the journey turned out to be a trial and test of the group’s determination. Myrtu was so pleased and proud of these mortals that, when they finally made it to the front steps of the Library, they hardly noticed the presence of another divine being, for all their dancing and rejoicing with the herd; that day the howling winds of the mountain carried their collective sounds of jubilation.
Though the mountains were known for the thinness of their air and the intensity of their chill, the air around the Grand Library was not so much cold as it was focused. The variously assembled equines would notice it immediately: the water freezing in their fur melted away into nothingness, carried by gentle zephyrs and leaving them dry. As the air filled their lungs it filled their minds with a clarity of purpose that, until they’d reached this library, they’d had in spades: but just as curiosity could never allow one to truly savour their discovery, so too would it deny them the chance to rest and enjoy the fruits of their labour and instead spur them ever onwards.
As they crested the edge of the mountain and became able to see more of the landscape than the ascent to a solitary peak would allow, the sheer volume of the place became apparent immediately. Bridges of effulgent marble stretched out from the perfectly curated peaks, seeming to end abruptly in nothingness except for the clear glint of heavily focused currents of wind that seemed to add a gentle shimmer into the air. Great towers of pristinely cut gemstones stretched up into the heavens, their multifaceted surfaces now displaying equines in all of their variegated forms galloping across an endless and infinite sky. As the light of the perpetual dawn flowed through them the images seemed to come to life, and a very real-seeming herd of them could be seen to gallop across the bridge and off of its edge fearlessly, soaring through the skies towards the tallest peak of all.
Even from this lowly vantage point, however, there was much to discover: many of these wondrous towers seemed to exist, far more than could possibly exist in the physical space they seemed to occupy, and curled around them in various shapes and forms were buildings of every possible type of construction. Some were made of rainbow-tinted coral, growing naturally into beautiful whorls and spirals that made up a building of unknowable purpose climbing up the crystalline tower. Some were made of pure starlight, somehow kept in bondage with secrets of artifice far beyond the contrivances of this inchoate world–the gentle streaks and glimmers of their light seemed to stretch on towards an infinite and endless horizon, leading the way to yet more fantastical bits of architecture.
Though no voice beckoned them on, nor did anything that seemed out of place call out to them, their natural sense of curiosity would be heightened to its absolute extremes in this strange place, and though it would not immediately distract them from their revelry it was a flame in the mind that could not be ignored for long.
Those gathered Equines began first, as most animals do, with sniffing and looking about- testing the realm with motions meant to provoke potential predators- eyes and ears alert for changes that would threaten their time spent in this place. As the others began their evaluation of their surroundings, Myrtu stood still and waited. To their eyes, this was a place far more special than had been previously imagined. When Myrtu had expected a simple settlement, they’d found something grander- something godly- which ignited within them a curiosity beyond that which the others felt, for Myrtu was ever adventurous by nature. Here was where, for the first time during the long trek across the mountains, Myrtu finally ignited their wings of dazzling colorful light. To those gathered, Myrtu bade them explore as they felt the need to or to follow them- to do as they wished for that was what it meant to be free. Some few looked to Myrtu with trust, for they would follow as far as they could, even if the divinity was flying- their eyes would be fixed upon the path which would take the form of Myrtu’s guiding light.
With this settled Myrtu took flight slowly, ascending high above the area in which the others were gathered. A path that they others might follow- a path using those winds and currents- ah yes! That would be the flight that Myrtu took. How would the mortals respond to feeling flight? These were Equines without wings- those meant to be free upon every hoof length of the land itself- so Myrtu did not doubt some would be fearful.
And they were proven correct.
For in their flight above, so high along the path upon which the others galloped, Myrtu did observe some of the Ziangs could not overcome such a trial of spirit and determination, as to step into those wind currents. There was no condemnation in Myrtu’s eyes for those that turned away. In fact, there was not much praise for those who chose to follow either. What there was praise for was the freedom expressed in refusal- the freedom expressed in choosing to follow- and how each individual stood by their choice, no matter what emotions swirled within. Even when some changed their minds while following, Myrtu noted them as interesting, and applauded their expression of shamelessness.
Such a flight across the various platforms, to a tower here, and to a path there, ended up scattering more of the mortal Equines throughout the various peaks and paths. When they finally arrived at the tallest peak of them all, there were only two remaining with Myrtu. Hooves once more upon the ground, Myrtu danced about with apparently contagious mirth, as so too did the final two join in the revelry.
It was there that the god and their two companions found the Great Vault, the sleek obsidian repository in which the Kathetikon kept itself and the knowledge it thought too great for mortals to bear at the present time. The glass-smooth walls raised from the very stone of the mountain itself, seamlessly transitioning from pale alabaster to midnight black that crawled upwards into the very sky. Its very shape defied definition, at-once far too large to exist at the very top of a structure (even one as large as a mountain) and yet easily contained within even mundane vision. Its euclidean and non-euclidean geometry served to provide easy points of understanding that branched out into the infinite sprawling of madness, for from a structure one could easily recognise as a wall sprouted unnatural curves and shapes that seemed to exist completely out of alignment with the rest of the peculiar building around them. As they danced and their revelry took them ‘neath its lintel the crude projection of form it had clung to while they were without fell away, scattering from view like so much smoke.
The view that awaited them when the layers of colour, dimension, sound, and feeling had been reassembled was grand beyond imagining. Infinite nebulae and galaxies came into view from every possible direction, and all sense of earthly belonging was lost between the sheer vastness of the stars–all that remained for guidance before them was the sleek obsidian of the Vault. Its pitch-dark curvature chased away the brilliant effulgence of the constellations, offering shelter from the overwhelming radiance. Further along the path still awaited the Master of this place, the sentient tome known as the Kathetikon, and its watchful gaze had finally fallen upon its divine compatriot and the mortal companions who had made it thus far. It did not speak directly, but its pages began to rustle and shift and the skies around them became familiar and safe once more, the standard night sky of Galbar they were used to. It gathered them close and wove them anew, writing clearly in the sky for them to read: ”Welcome, divine sibling! Welcome, mortals! You find yourselves in my Grand Library, where curiosity itself springs from. What do you most want to know?”
There was little that held back the response of the lowly Ziang, for they were mortals and mere animals of a simply mundane nature. They had experienced awe, beheld sights incredible, yet it was almost as if it were no different than gazing upon Myrtu for them. In their minds, there were thoughts written in the language of compulsion, instinct, and the freedom which Myrtu planted within the hearts of all their creations.
"Where," coalesced the thoughts between the two Ziang; however the depths of the word sank deep. The meaning was held within their souls as deep as the roots of an ancient oak, powerful and strong in its yearning to venture into where- to discover that which was not known. Within their hooves these roots of meaning and heaviness were defined and gathered, as these were the tools to know- to discover and decrypt "where"- each and every-where.
”Always, could have been the secondary meaning held within this thought of where- occupying the definition of the former harmoniously- for it was with their hooves and bodies that where became possible- became here- then became there. To go, to find, to search, to desire that "where" and to always know it. No mention of the word "find" could have formed because, where was all there was for these humble animals, and all that mattered.
Myrtu bowed their head before the two Ziang, a gentle show of gratitude and respect, before they turned their attention to the Kathetikon. As they gazed toward the other divine with ambiguous Equine eyes, the silence stretched for longer.
Gently, almost quietly, Myrtu projected their voice forward without using their mouth to speak, and asked a single question of the Kathetikon- for this was the single most important bit of knowledge they needed now, more than anything else in the world.
"Where art thine hooves?"
“You are my hooves, dear sibling.” the Kathetikon wrote in the stars, and the great vastness of space around them vanished into indistinct and unfamiliar hazes of light deep in the background of the soothing and comfortable darkness. ”When one asks the question: ‘What are hooves?’, they do not search for me. I was the search–you are the answer.” it wrote again, addressing Myrtu with a response worthy of their profoundly upward gaze. On the earth below the Kathetikon wrote its next messages, to the two Ziang: ”You seek not the destination but the journey, oh curious ones. You drink deep from my well, never sated–what you seek is not ‘where’, but the search for ‘where’.”
Hoofprints of radiant starlight impressed themselves upon the inky blackness of the floor beneath them, and began to trail off towards the distant and wondrous light fading into the background of the anomalously large space within the building they’d entered. The hoofprints danced and cavorted their way off into the endlessness of the heavens, beckoning their earthbound kin with unmistakable equine curiosity. To Myrtu such enticements would be as dull as stillness and silence, however, and so the Kathetikon opened the gates to the innermost secrets of the Grand Library before Myrtu, held tantalisingly behind a veil of gossamer radiance just past the floating tome. It turned towards the refulgent aperture with a movement suggesting wistfulness and wonder, and awaited its divine sibling’s reaction.
Myrtu’s satisfaction with the response had been plain to see; it was in the proud tossing of their mane and the head bob of gratitude. Yes, the Kathetikon's answer was the best of all the answers to the question so far. As the Ziang began to follow the hoofprints, the two halted briefly and turned their heads, to give Myrtu a long and quiet gaze. This moment of quiet filled their eyes with longing; making known their desire to travel again with Myrtu in the future. Of course, Myrtu gave them a proud head bobbing and promised to journey again. Eagerly then, did Myrtu encourage them- through gesture and motion- to continue on their new journey, wherever it was that those celestial hoofprints lead them. With such encouragement the two waited no longer, then eagerly strode onward.
And so too did the Unicorn God stride as well.
Closer to the gates though not yet beyond them- hesitation becoming clear as they swayed in place before the threshold. As their eyes beheld the beauty beyond the veil, the details of the entirety of the journey coming to the forefront of their mind, Myrtu turned, and bowed their head to the Kathetikon, stretching one leg out before themselves.
“Twice now, have I intruded accidentally upon those places both intimate and sacred to the hearts of other divines. For this intrusion, I do beg forgiveness.” Myrtu raised their head once more, “Twould be boorish of me, were I not to offer an introduction at this juncture.” Perhaps because they could not help themselves, Myrtu then strutted about in a small circle, as if in a small parade as they declared, “I am Myrtu and, indeed, is it true that mine hooves are the answer to such a question!”
Halting, they continued, “To these mortals- to all the world- have I brought hooves! That they may explore all the freedoms of the world- that they may dash and prance about far and fast; theirs is the right to do so! For this world be for mortals- for them to seek, to experience, to grow and learn all it is to be; to understand what it means to be. Theirs is potential- raw and true- and it is by freedom shall they discover the power inherent in the limitlessness of being.” Dancing then in place, Myrtu’s tone became jovial as they concluded, “Though, one must observe, that such pristine and tidy surroundings, be hardly a suitable place for hooves.”
”Just a little to the left…” the Kathetikon wrote in response to Myrtu’s many declarations, awaiting the moment the god would dance in just the right position. As they continued to move and engage in the revelry of being it was not long before they happened upon that most opportune of spaces, and their wild gesticulations caused the very essence of the Vault to shudder and write in unseen ecstasy. As Myrtu’s mane was caressed by cosmic winds, strands of sparkling, prismatic light sheared off of them, coalescing gently into an echo of their majestic form. As their hooves clipped and clopped against the inky abyss they stood upon, the gentle ministrations of dance nudged the formless form to spring up into a magnificent imitation of the equine god. As their voice shook the very foundations of being laid in the sacred space, songs and dance conspired to marry themselves together and animated the crude copy of a deity into something resembling a living sculpture. It whinnied loudy and soared off into the heavens, quickly dissolving into a brand new constellation of stars that the Kathetikon eagerly began to write down within itself.
”I am the Kathetikon, dear sibling, god of Curiosity and Knowledge. ‘Tis me that you and yours follow upon your endless search, and ‘tis another of our siblings you meet at journey’s end. But you are the beginning of this journey, no? The impetus to begin the indulging of curiosity, to explore the freedom of existence–this is your gift and your calling. You cannot intrude upon this space, for it was created to be found. What is the search without a destination, after all? I am full-pleased to welcome you to my humble abode, and offer you free reign of the place while you are here–there are many things to be discovered, though not all of them are suitable for such young and eager minds. Pray watch your mortal companions lest they drink too deeply of this place and become unable to separate that which exists before them from that which exists in their minds.” the Kathetikon replied, manoeuvring itself over to Myrtu. As it did so the featureless hands of Anagnostis appeared as if from nothing and grasped it firmly, looking expectantly towards Myrtu as if longing for some sort of response.
Yet for the moment, it could see how Myrtu’s attention was quite fixed upon the stars and the new constellation galloping across the heavens. And Myrtu’s joy had swelled at the appearance of the living sculpture, such a thing having added more energy to their dance. Such an vigor had even grown by a measure as a bit of restraint upon their appearance had eased slightly. Their hide became black and white simultaneously, shimmering in every color that was and could be as the light caught it, for their black and their white was the forceful display of every color combination, unhindered by law of light. So when Anagnostis appeared, Myrtu shook themselves wholly, causing a glittering mist to fall from their body, as their colors restabalized to something easier on the eyes. Plain curiosity was in the manner that Myrtu nosed toward Anagnostis.
For a quiet stretch, they gave it a long moment of overwhelmingly ambiguous staring.
A very subtle shift in their observation toward its feet made the unspoken echo of their question, but a second question sprang forth before Myrtu could catch it, “What are you? Different and unique- to grasp firmly the whole of a god without dire consequence…” Their attention abruptly snapped toward the direction in which the two Ziang had wandered, the Kathetikon’s previous statements finally having breached the walls of their obtuse thoughts. A divinely beautiful tail swished almost worriedly behind Myrtu and they- very much before Anagnostis could answer- started off toward the Ziang at an easy walk, concerned yet not all at once.
“I am Anagnostis, a shard of the Master’s will. I exist to read from the Tome of All Things, for what use is a book without a reader?” the featureless figure replied, quickly penning a few notes within the opened Kathetikon that caused the still-galloping Ziang to stop dead in their tracks. The otherwordly air of the interior faded away into nothingness, leaving only more reasonable mundane dimensions for them to explore. Now, however, there were several opening out towards the crisp and bright mountain air once more, and many more bridges of ornately carved stone and wind to take them wherever they might desire to go.
”This Vault is where I keep my knowledge of my siblings, and it is an honour to have added you to it.” the Kathetikon wrote, its words easily visible to Myrtu amongst the angles and colours of the obsidian walls. Anagnostis simultaneously extended a hand out towards the statue of stars, now held fast in a single point in space so as to not inundate lesser beings with the full glory of the divine. “Is there aught we can do for you while you are here, Myrtu the God-Star, or shall we simply leave you to search to your hearts’ content? This is the seat of all knowledge, after all–there will be something here to pique your interest, if interests are indeed something you possess.” Anagnostis asked, keeping pace with Myrtu as they travelled towards their lesser mortal companions.
In the distance, many more equines could be seen for varying lengths of time: some had disappeared into the patchwork buildings surrounding the towers, while some had found themselves enjoying the ability to soar on currents of air so much that they merely travelled between the bridges back-and-forth, whinnying and laughing in equal measure as they glutted themselves on this new and interesting sensation. Such things were not visible to mortal eyes, but to the gods they were clear as day–and to the Master of this place, more obvious even than that. Anagnostis occasionally turned the pages of the Kathetikon as it observed those beings without, occasionally making a quick note in the marginalia or letting out a quick “Hm…” as it perused some information within the God-Book’s pages that was useful or interesting in some way.
For a time Myrtu was silent. They took in all that was available: the Kathetikon’s words and those of Anagnostis; the manner in which the equines were exploring and enjoying themselves; all the angles and paths and rooms. This caused them to come to a halt, as those dashing and curious Ziang had mere moments prior. Yet. As their eyes swirled with their myriad of colors, a visual representation for the tempest that were the god’s obtuse thoughts, Myrtu placed this gaze upon Anagnostis.
“God-Star? Tis a grand title, new to mine ears- from where does such a thing originate-” Myrtu galloped into another thought without pause “-how far and perilous the trek was, from whence we hail- this herd of small number. Be this a realm such mortals are meant to behold?” Their gaze shifted to the Ziang, who resumed their exploration, with no less eagerness than before. “For if we, strong of will and body, were dearly tested by the peaks and driven snow, then… In truth, such journeys are the reason why I, indeed, grant hooves to mortals! Their odd meat feet could not withstand such paths for long- they’ve not the stamina, most of them. And companionship too, they might find in the Equines. Without hooves, they’ve not the means to find such astonishing places or create their own. Without strong backs to carry their burdens, the freedoms they’d experience would be limited to journeys incomplete and perilous.”
All while they spoke, Myrtu’s eyes were focused upon the joy of those equines flying. Clearly, Myrtu was finding it quite captivating. With amusement in their projected voice, Myrtu concluded, “And even still, for some, hooves be not quite enough.” They tossed their mane and illuminated their wings as punctuation to such a statement.
“Most mortals do not find their way here physically, the Master admits. They find their way here when their minds wander, when the vessels of their intellect overflow with thoughts. It is the current of those thoughts that brings them here. Those of hoof and wing,” Anagnostis began, sweeping its hand out in a grand gesture towards Myrtu and all the other equines, “seem to have an easier time than the mortals, of whom we have precious few. Only those Umbra that the Lady of Trade and Shadow has invested here have made it thus far… perhaps there is a truth to your utterings! We know you by the name of the God-Star as that is what the residents of Logiopolis called you.” the avatar of the Kathetikon continued, before its form began to ripple and convulse as though dipped in a var of colour and texture. As the ripples began to settle its form began to settle with it, and soon it had taken on the appearance of the Kinnaras it had taken before. It let itself shift across all those forms the villagers of Logiopolis had taken, before returning to the familiar and comfortable shape of the Kinnaras.
“They called you this, for they knew not what you were. It will be a great honour to show them, and to have them craft a statue for you that their endless dance might bring you a spark of the joy it has brought us. We have recently founded an… agglomeration of like-minded individuals, though after seeing you I believe it is quite evident they lack an equine element that would bring them no end of joy and prosperity!” Anagnostis continued, chuckling good-naturedly to itself as it penned words with ever-increasing frequency in the Kathetikon.
Myrtu had nodded at the mention of another divine, “Ah, I’ve met her. Trade and... shadows?” The note of confusion was in that final word, for Myrtu had not seen Ashevelen for quite some time, apparently. They brushed it aside with a soft huff as the origin of their title was explained. “Logiopolis…” Myrtu repeated with admiration as they beheld the many forms that Anagnostis took. They danced then in joy upon hearing about how a group of those peoples Myrtu had scattered survived! That there was an entire settlement of them- living and apparently thriving! Yet. The dance did halt at the mention of a statue being carved for them. Ducking their head slightly, Myrtu seemed tense at the prospect yet curious still. Silence passed for a beat.
“Mine is a name and presence unnecessary,” Myrtu said at last, “For they need not mine guidance nor my influence to see to it that this world might, in its boundless possibility, be shaped in accordance with their freedom of choice and will.” They raised their head, setting their gaze upon those adventurous mortal equines, which now pranced and glided about the realm in glee. “The ways of these creatures- those of instinct and survival- theirs is a way different fundamentally, I do believe. And it is they who may, in their small part, act as mine presence by proxy. Mine influence beheld. Inspiration, of a kind.”
Then it was through some unspoken instinct, that the two most determined and curious among the Ziang, found their way back toward Anagnostis and Myrtu. “Do you two,” Myrtu asked of the animals, “Seek the journey still?” Silence passed between them. With a gleeful braying, the two Ziang began to prance around Myrtu. As the Unicorn tossed their head back, they asked Anagnostis, “Do you know how to care for Equines? ‘Tis a gift that I’ve in mind, for you and your master, and it would be quite irresponsible of me to leave such creatures without one that has the means of seeing for their wellbeing. Though I’ve no doubt they’d find a means to care for themselves, still. It doth concern me. They’ll be of a disposition unlike that of mine other creations.”
”It is for these reasons that they seek a statue of you. It is not an altar for them to offer supplication, but an icon for them to offer their revelry and gratitude. To drink deeply from the waters of curiosity and be grateful for the choice to have slaked their thirst.” the Kathetikon wrote, its words evident in the colours of the wind only a divine eye like Myrtu’s could perceive.
“The little that we do not know is something we are in a position to discover quickly; fortunately, the concept of equines is already quite familiar to us.” ”I wonder what drove our kin to take this form. Perhaps they do not remember it as clearly as we do, or perhaps the means of one’s ascension is more personal… Don’t ask, Anagnostis, we’ll have to research this one more ourselves… the Kathetikon wrote to Anagnostis, who had very little difficulty in suppressing a smile as they possessed no feature with which to smile to begin with.
“The Master would be most eager to have some specially crafted beings to help manage the Grand Library. They do not like to create themselves, fearing it would… muddy the waters–so assistance in this regard is most helpful.” Anagnostis spoke, cocking its head slightly to the side to suggest it was smiling. The Kathetikon began to write frantically, but Anagnostis seemed to simply close it and never once diverted its gaze from Myrtu.
Quietly Myrtu pawed the ground with their hoof, causing sparkles to shimmer and bounce about. Once again they were listening, thinking, considering- suddenly standing over the wreckage of their train of thought- Myrtu leapt into the air abruptly, their horn glowing profoundly, as their wings shone with a bursting and fullness. Beneath them, the circling Ziang only seemed encouraged by such a display, and their joyous braying picked up once more. “Tis naught but the unlocking of potential,” Myrtu explained for the benefit of Anagnostis, “Within them is already that which your master hath approved of- curiosity! And further, within them is means to act upon such curiosity, for aye- it was they that, by their hearts and instinct, hath guided all the equines before you to this place- mine contribution were company and mere suggestion to see here- to make close this distant point. Eagerly did they choose such a journey, leaving behind those others which were free to choose their path as well.” Simultaneously the Ziang lifted into the air as a glow, not unlike that of Myrtu’s dazzling wings, encased the mortals wholly.
“Theirs are the minds which seek and find,” and gently Myrtu touched their horn each of the Ziang’s heads in turn, which caused the light of their horn to permeate the Ziangs deeply and to their very souls. Their striped hides danced with color- the stripes themselves becoming rainbow hues as the tawny backdrop became chaotic. A shifting gradient from black to white, with every shade in between, that came to dominate the formerly tawny space. A semblance of order slowly became apparent; when their ears perked forward to listen to Myrtu, their shades and hues of their hides shifted attentively; when one became distracted by its own flying instead, the colors of its fur became light and warm with glee.
“Theirs are the hearts which yearn for journey- the bonds formed through such endeavors- and the challenge presented along the path. To know these deeply, intimately, to remember such that it may be shared for the good of the whole,” and Myrtu did shake about their mane then, spilling onto the Ziang a crystalized hail of godly essence, which took the form of tiny sigils- words different from those the Kathetikon had displayed, yet they did shift in translation into Polyglos, as they hit the bodies of the Ziang.
Words blossomed, spelled out in crystalline formations, from the strong backs of the creatures. These crystal words and sigils, which appeared to draw their way through the air at their backs, linking concepts and ideas to form sentences and names, became the base structure for wings- acting as the “bones and muscle”t. From these structures there sprang clusters of words, created from light, to act as feathers, whose details shifted and changed as the individual tales these creatures experienced became written as their very wings. From a glance these words told the story of their path- which trails were taken, where fresh water was located, prime lands for grazing, and how many were in the herd of equines on the journey. Even as they floated in the air, their wings became written with observations further still- how cold it felt and how hard the wind blew beneath their sensitive feathers- purely and plainly stated, for that was the nature of instinct.
Such anatomical changes, so new to the creatures, caused the shining words to dissipate inadvertently, but it was no matter. Where once were the detailed writings, there were feathers of semi-opaque darkness that, as the wings were stretched for the first time, sparkled to life with dazzling points of light innumerable, an unconscious action caused by the Ziang’s wills. Those shimmering points in the darkness of their wings would be, to the eyes trained to recognize the patterns, an accurate replication of the stars which blazed in the heavens above.
“And to carry the burdens of such a task- that they might assist others that yearn as they do- Ah! Theirs is a role which requires strength and power both- for speed matters little when the path is unending and freely charted!” Myrtu whipped their head about as their horn glowed brightly- this motion having caused the Ziang to double in size, as was willed by their auras of godly light. Their limbs thickened with sturdy muscle and their backs became powerful, as their hooves gained the mass and toughness to endure travels of distances undefined. A moment was taken by Myrtu then to gaze into the eyes of the transformed Ziang, but they were Ziang no longer!
With a single beat of their wings of light, Myrtu ascended slightly above the two, then glowed with chromatically colorful radiance, declaring, “Odysseus Equis, thou’rt blessed! If it be a journey sought and means to take it, grasp with thy freedom at that which I offer now!” And in a flash of light, the blessing became available for all those Equines present in the mountain herd. This moment of light, lasting but a beat of the Equine heart, was filled with the profound choice to accept or deny the transformation. While they were the ones who’d chosen the path to travel here- had the will to see the task through- Myrtu knew that this was something they should choose, too. If they’d lost heart upon finding only this destination, then it would be of little use for the journeys ahead- for what the Odysseus Equis should represent.
Not one among those Equines present refused.
Once the moment passed, Myrtu released their will from the two, which had served as the template for the transformation. The sudden release caused the two to fall into a panicked glide- instinctually catching the wind beneath their newborn wings. Mischievously Myrtu laughed, as their divine hooves once again contacted the ground near Anagnostis.
Anagnostis clapped its hands together in delight, leaving the Kathetikon to float midair, having watched the transformation of the equines into this new, dazzling form. It then quickly came to its senses and grabbed the Kathetikon out of the air hastily, beginning to scribble down all sorts of details about the working of this new species that Myrtu had created. Anagnostis occasionally looked up to observe them as it wrote at a speed far outpacing any non-divine entity, and by the time it had finished writing a series of books about the creatures and their properties, Myrtu had just about finished their most recent bout of revelry and rumpus.
“They’re just as magnificent as I imagined… and so useful too! They can carry the goods and keep the records while the Umbra trade–together they’ll be able to journey anywhere and record anything! If there is aught you would ask of us in recompense, please!” Anagnostis spoke, and the Kathetikon wrote its words next in the ground that Myrtu’s hooves had been kneading.
”All knowledge exists within my library. If there is something you wish to know, then it will be our pleasure to direct you towards where it may be found. Unless you had another request I might be able to fulfill?”
While the Kathetikon and Myrtu spoke, the aforementioned Umbra flocked outside in droves to gaze upon their newest friends and allies, and it was only moments before the two began to soar together on the crystal-clear winds at the peaks of the Grand Library, charting its infinite eddies and currents for the first time and beginning to create the first map of the Kathetikon’s realm, that all those new wanderers who found their way here would at least have to wander slightly less.
With an air of contentedness, Myrtu replied, "A gift freely given- for it is for the world and its mortals, is such diversity truly added. Thine contributions were an inspiration and influence for, I admit, I am desperately wanting for creativity at times, and never would I have thought to create beings such as these, were it not for the sight of thy realm most glorious." As their eyes scanned the new equines, those testing their wings and already developing forms of aerial play, Myrtu released a sigh of admiration. "Would that I could but experience life as they- that I may walk amongst mortals and see their world, their desires and dreams, with mine own eyes, without their shuddering ‘neath mine presence Divine."
Turning their gaze back toward Anagnostis, Myrtu murmured rather hesitantly, "And if… it is with necessity that a statue be made in mine image in this... Logiopolis. Then I wish it to stand no taller than the heads of Centaur." A softness entered their tone, "Let not I, a symbol of freedom and striving toward realizing one's potential, tower unreasonably over their heads, as in a stature which inspires impossibility in proportions. And let not mine image recreated dominate a space which they call their own, created by their own hands, unless… they themselves wish it to be so."
Myrtu bowed their head and conceded, "Nonexistent is mine desire to impose restrictions upon their expression yet, I'd rather they stand at the side of such a symbol and know that what they seek presents itself with realism- that it stands at their shoulders in encouraging camaraderie, both challenging them to make push forward and joining them ever in stride." Raising their head proudly, Myrtu concluded, "If such a symbol must be, then may it be created in this manner." Their tail whipped about with sudden energy.
“Much like yourself, the Master rarely interferes with mortals in ways that they could not themselves–it is simply within the Master’s power to expedite these processes. But…” Anagnostis began, before looking down at the gently buzzing Kathetikon and beginning to read eagerly. ”I remember the process that endowed me with divinity. I see no reason I could not engineer a way to sever you from the wellspring of your divine power and dull your noetic profile down to the levels of a mortal–or perhaps I could simply create an avatar that you can cast your mind into in order to diminish your abilities without dulling your senses. There are many ways to proceed, and my mind races thinking about them! Should you want this, feel free to return to my library in the future. Anagnostis, you must gather the Umbra and the Odysseia and set them upon their great mission.”
“The Master has much for me to do, honoured guest, but you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. As long as any shred of curiosity remains within you, you shall not want for discovery or adventure within this place… but there is much more to do out in the wider world. I hope we will meet again, and that it shall be as joyous a meeting as this has been.” Anagnostis spoke, bowing deeply as it did so, before suddenly disappearing from view as it located itself elsewhere in the Grand Library. The Kathetikon remained behind, floating in the centre of its great Vault, but it offered no more words to the Horse God as it contemplated how best to manoeuvre its forces across Galbar.
And so the silence went undisturbed as Myrtu began to process what the Kathetikon had proposed. An avatar? The way it was described sounded as if it would be precisely what they had in mind- a perfect means to see what the mortals were experiencing from their level. But how would it look? What would they do first? Where would they go first? Overwhelming possibilities were now presenting themselves to Myrtu- thoughts that would be better left for a run- Oh! A Run! With such a fantastic idea coming to the forefront, Myrtu rather excitedly turned about, then bowed slightly to the Kathetikon as a means of farewell, for the great distances of the world were now begging to pass beneath Myrtu's hooves once more, and they were compelled to answer the call.
While exploring, Myrtu spots a cool place in the mountains, then asks a herd of Ziang to make the journey to it with them. They arrive at the Kathetikon’s Grand Library. Myrtu, the Kathetikon, and Anagnostis speak before Myrtu gifts the two with the Odysseus Equis (Book Mules), created from the Ziang herd.
The Kathetikon's journey through the Umbral Woods had been, for better or worse, fraught with more stops than it had even considered possible. While the Tome of All Things had a truly vast conspectus of knowledge at its disposal, the inchoate stages of a new world were so frightfully interesting that it had found itself recording even mundane things with a glee it had not experienced as a shade in a truly unfathomable amount of time. It did not dwell on these thoughts--how could it, when so many things vied for its attention--and instead happily flitted from place to place, its direct path towards the village of Shadowton irreversibly skewed by the capricious sense of direction the Kathetikon had chosen to follow. By the time it had gathered its thoughts fully and channelled its mental energy towards a goal broader in scope than its immediate surroundings, the book had found itself far to the west of the so-called Umbral Woods and gazing up towards a set of mountains that sloped towards the firmament in a most aesthetically pleasing way. As the Kathetikon's thoughts idly drifted it found itself considering the world of its first home, the Grand Library of Gnosis that had once held an entire universe's knowledge within its hallowed halls. It remembered the grey-blue carved stone of its magnificent towers and arches, accented with precious metals and arcane sigils to signify the particular body of knowledge kept therein. It remembered the paths of carved gemstone and how the light that refracted through it gleamed with possibility, illuminating the carved poems and works of prose in the most curious light. The thinness of the air in that mountain library had lent everything an ethereal and otherworldly quality, the bracing chill of the northerly zephyrs combining with the nearness of the fourth sun's light to put the mind in a state of crystal-clear focus far beyond anything it had ever recalled since.
As beautiful as the singing spires were, they paled in comparison to the interior: lavishly furnished reading rooms, comfortable seats spun from the finest eddies of pure arcana placed at the perfect distance from a roaring fire to provide the precise ambience needed to enjoy whatever the topic one wished to read about required. Tables of beautiful hardwood, varnished with alchemical unguents to improve their sheen and durability. Shelves of brilliant crystal that held tomes known to have existed since the very dawn of civilisation, able to illuminate the location of any book one might desire simply by responding to thought. The Grand Library had been a work of art as much as it was a repository of knowledge, the very soul of the world in more ways than one. Though that world had lasted longer than most, the dark at the end of everything had consumed it without pity or remorse--and the Kathetikon could still remember walking its halls as a shade, gathering fragments of torn parchment and shattered crystal in order to create the gateway between worlds that had allowed it to breach the barriers of reality and escape certain doom. To recreate it precisely as it was would have been to dishonour its memory, for the Grand Library had been the work of countless cultures and outstanding individuals over the lifetimes of hundreds of civilisations--but the Tome of All Things knew full well in its very core that it simply could not bear to let something of that magnificence and splendour be relegated solely to the annals of memory within its pages. While it would not recreate the Library of its youth, it would at least lay the foundations for the generations of mortals yet to come to gaze upon something far greater than themselves and be inspired--for every crown needed its jewel, every oyster its pearl.
It was the work of seconds for the Kathetikon to scale the tallest peak, and of scant moments for it to begin envisioning precisely what it would create. The craggy and uneven surfaces of the rock began to smooth themselves over as a wave of glittering energy washed over them, their once-treacherous slopes giving way to smooth and stable plateaus. Winding staircases wove themselves into the very rock, hewn as if the mountain were merely a sculpture taking on its true form. The light of the sun began to catch the newly transformed surfaces, and the Kathetikon caught some of its glittering effulgence within the stone itself to lend it a measure ot permanent light. As the wave continued to spread over the mountain like a tide more and more features were added, each more rapidly than the last: where once jagged edges threatened harm there were now bridges and staircases and plateaus. The nature of the stone's transformation caused a natural system of tiering, concentric circles of workable surface cascading down the mountain, but the transformation appeared not to stop there. Currents of wind moved at the Kathetikon's behest, reminiscent of those currents that could be found at Keltra, to link the various mountains--they began at the ends of ornately carved bridges and danced through the air towards their destinations, but continued onwards to pool at the base of the mountains in order to catch any that might be so unfortunate as to fall. From now-stable foundations grand structures of carved stone and worked wood came into being, spiralling towers and grand halls erecting themselves as they filled with an unthinkable number of books, scrolls, illuminated manuscripts, and the like. Grand furnishings came next, as lush carpets lined the floors and towering shelves for the assembled knowledge to lie in emerged from the floor. Crystals holding motes of pure sunlight were woven into the floors and the shelves to ensure that all who trod the halls could find their way with ease, and simple signage in Polyglos spread throughout to ensure none got lost.
At the very top of the tallest peak was the Kathetikon's personal holding place, a grand lectern emblazoned with esoteric symbols and sigils with meanings so arcane that to even glimpse them could drive one's curiosity dangerously close towards the all-consuming fire of madness. The cool stone of the floor was equally curious, etched with gemstone and crystal with reference to each of the deities that it had gathered any information thus far. The ceiling was reserved for a depiction of Anath Homura, the Creatrix herself, crafted from iridescent rubies and pure-white marble. The stem of the rose formed an intricate and twisting pattern, each of its thorns a brilliant ruby, and in the very centre were its petals of carmine. They each contained a single topic of information, and the hidden words snaked through the design to create a brilliant alabaster eye at the very centre, wherein a single mote of pure gold resided. Many of the spaces on the floor were left blank, of course, for there were many deities that the Kathetikon did not yet know: but here, in this space, it felt like it was finally home. Its realm now created, the Kathetikon took a moment to enjoy the act of creation for what it was, content that it had taken another step on the Sacred Path described to it by the Creatrix. Though it appeared even she did not know where it ended, that fact did not deter the Tome of All Things in the slightest, for what was life without mystery?
The Kathetikon creates its realm, transforming the mountains due directly west of Shadowton into a grand library inspired by the Shade of Gnosis' memories. It creates a chamber specifically for the gods it knows about, and resolves to meet as many as possible in order to complete its grand work and continue along the Sacred Path set to it by Anath Homura.
-1 MP - Alter the mountains to be easily accessible on foot, and implement a net of winds similar to those at Keltra for safety -2 MP - Create a Realm
Dappled light filtered through the canopies of the trees above, glittering and sparkling as the morning dew scattered the sun’s rays throughout the Umbral Forest. In the undergrowth below there was a most curious sight, a floating book manoeuvring through the gaps between the trees and ducking to and fro from all manners of vines and bushes–and it showed no sign whatsoever of slowing or stopping. It zipped through the air at a speed few things could even perceive, let alone comprehend, though its disruption of the assembled foliage did catch the attention of a number of endemic life-forms that flitted and scampered curiously around the Kathetikon. As they began to approach, however, their features began to become blotted out with unnatural black stains that spread across their forms, and by the time they had reached a scant few paces further towards it their forms were beginning to dissolve into clouds of ink that traced unknowable sigils through the air. They all quickly began to dissolve into the written word, carried on unseen currents towards the tome and quickly imprinting themselves upon its pages as it glowed brightly and a rumbling chuckle could be felt through the ground below.
It took a phenomenon altogether more interesting to draw the Tome of All Things from its education regarding the local fauna, but something in the air made its pages rustle as it zipped with astounding speed towards the western edge of this peculiar forest, content with the the knowledge it had already extracted from the forest thus far. It had been particularly curious about the names of the other divines that the villagers of Logiopolis had offered to it, and on the distant horizon it could sense the emanations of power consistent with the function (if not the form) of its own, and it sought them out with all the haste that a divine book could muster.
And it was time to leave, finally. Upgrades to the Umbra were done and while Penumbra was still out and abouts with the elves, the need to travel was already getting too great to be put aside for any longer but Ashevelen looked upon the forest once more, just in case. One last look of a parent leaving her children to learn about the world on their own.
Ashevelen started walking and whistling a tune she once traded for with a past creation, calmly. Nothing could stop her from her journey, nothing but…” Oh’ come on! Not again…” exclaimed Ashe in annoyance. One more divine visiting the Umbral Forest. Now of all times.
She initially kept walking more, trying to the best of her ability to ignore the questions that kept bombarding her mind. What if this divine wants to kill the Umbra? What if they plan to eat their souls? What if they hate trading and will teach the Umbra something they shouldn’t learn? These and many more similar questions kept spamming her mind, on and on and on until it was too much.
“ Fine. I’ll see what you want and then I’ll leave. No matter what. Even if the whole forest burns down. I gave them legs, they better learn how to use them fast. ” said Ashe to herself, her resolve strengthened.
With a wave of her hands, shadows started to swirl around her and she lifted herself high in the sky. Searching for the form of the divine, she couldn’t see anything. Only the energy. Some movement here and there but nothing else. Maybe it was simply a trick of her mind, her restlessness finally getting to her but she had to try. Summoning some divine energy, she released a blast in the air, similar to a flare. Indicating her position to any divine beings around.
It took only moments for the Kathetikon to zoom towards Ashevelen, unceremoniously positioning itself directly with her eyeline before the eye emblazoned upon its front page seemed to look her up and down (at least, as best as a static drawing could). It said nothing at first, seemingly content to study another divinity up close, but after perhaps a minute or so it finally began to react in a more obvious way:
”Anagnostis, why aren’t you reading me? What did I create you for if not to–oh. Anagnostis is still with those villagers… Hm.” it displayed, the words appearing in Polyglos in the air in front of it in a particularly cursive and ornate script. The words were less an actual measure of conversation than they were idle thoughts, clearly, but the sentient tome was far too distracted with all of the questions it wished to ask its sibling that it appeared to have been thinking aloud for lack of a better term.
”I am the Kathetikon, the God of Curiosity and Knowledge! Who might you be, sibling? Perhaps…” it began, suddenly opening and scanning through its pages rapidly. ”Perhaps… Myrtu? No, you do not have the presence of a ‘Myrtu’... I sense an A about you, perhaps Aldion? No, you aren’t red enough! Ashevelen? You are surrounded by shadows, so it would seem appropriate that you are the creator of the Umbra–tell me, do you like trading?” the Kathetikon’s will was broadcast directly through the unseen currents of divine energy that all gods exuded this time, seeming to speak directly into Ashe’s mind. The tone was frantic and inquisitive, though clearly bookish and relatively harmless in its intent.
Looking for someone to come out or appear in front of her, Ashevelen didn’t realise initially that it was actually the book that was talking. Studying it close, she quickly determined that the divine being was in fact that book itself. Truly a peculiar sight, while Ashe met many divines in her travels each with their own weird form but a book was something she hasn’t met yet.
Listening to the Kathetikon talk, her amazement only grew and by this point, she was grinning like a mortal.
“ Greetings divine brother or sister. A wondrous form you’ve got, amazing. That is correct, I am the creator of the Umbra. Ashevelen, the lady of trade and shadows. A pleasure to meet you. ” replied Ashe, adding a friendly bow at the end.
“ Trading, you say? I might know a thing or two about it…” added Ashe before starting to talk about trading, pacts and everything that covered the topic with the insight only a divine that specialised in it could. Of course, some secrets were not said but Ashevelen had an inkling that the Kathetikon knew them as well.
”I am neither a brother or a sister, for these refer to either the concept of sex or gender and–as you have no doubt astutely observed–I am a book without either. Sibling would be an acceptable term of address, as would ‘the Kathetikon’, but perhaps we–” the Kathetikon began, its thoughts bubbling up in gentle streams of shadowy ink into the air, but as soon as Ashe began to talk about trading it immediately let out a burst of effulgent energy and its pages flicked rapidly towards a section simply titled: Appendix XXXIVDCCXIII: Trade.
”How curious! Tell me everything, that I might record such bountiful and wondrous information within my pages!” the Kathetikon began, and began at once to engage the goddess before it with debates and observations, absorbing the contents of her knowledge eagerly while providing insights of its own in as many ways as possible. The Kathetikon listed to her the concepts of trade from worlds and universes far removed from this one, explaining what it knew of the systems freely and without second thought as to what one might think of their otherworldly nature, and by the time the pair of them had finished their discussions on the topic the sun and the moon had both shown themselves several times.
”... the usage of coins is only particularly common across the breadth of my knowledge in very early societies–those that advance or have access to the means of magic typically never invent currency or advance it so quickly that the intermediary stages are omitted entirely! It would appear that your divine status on this topic is much deserved, Ashevelen, for you have filled my pages with information I could scarcely have conceived of alone! Some of your umbra took… umbrage with my gift of a name, and demanded that a service of sufficient recompense be offered to me to equal the metaphorical scales. If there is a boon that you would ask of me in return for this wealth of information, you have only to bargain with me…” the Kathetikon stated, the emanations of its thoughts growing playful and mirthful in demeanour as it suggested that the Goddess of Trade haggle with it. It would, of course, stand no chance in outmanoeuvring her in such a thing–but part of the joy must surely have been in being challenged in the way that only their divine brethren could provide.
Almost immediately, Ashevelen got engaged in the conversion. Each phrase was countered with another, each wrong presumption corrected and even though it wasn’t intended on her part, she, herself discovered new things or better said, perspectives about trading. As soon as the Kathetikon started the topic of different worlds and universes, Ashe added her own knowledge about some of those she’s been in or heard of from different divines. Some traders as herself would tell the most outlandish stories about very, very distant universes with different rules of reality and Ashevelen told them all to Kathetikon.
While expecting to be annoyed by the presence of another divine, Ashevelen found herself wanting for the conversation to go on longer and longer. It was a long time since she met someone that could match her in knowledge, at least in part, about trading. Letting out a laugh, Ashevelen shook her head.
“ It seems I have taught my Umbra well. Even in the presence of another divine, they’ll ask to trade with no fear of what that divine might do to them. I hope they haven’t offended you as they simply did what I told them to do, trade. The most important thing for them and the only thing that keeps their soul from going to Aldion’s hell. ” replied Ashe with a smile only for her to hear the end of the Kathetikon’s reply.
“ You wish to bargain with me out of all people? You are quite an interesting divine, Kathe’ but before we do that, there’s one more thing to talk about, don’t you think? Something we haven’t talked about yet, that’s related to trading but isn’t fully. Trading doesn’t only encompass the bartering of goods etc., but pacts as well. Contracts and how they work together. ” said Ashe and then started another long conversation about contracts and pacts. Pointing out flaws in common thinking and different ways of exploitation of said contracts in a way that the contract itself isn’t broken, only then to jump to different minor topics relating to the general idea of pacts.
The Kathetikon moved to reply to Ashe’s musings about the Umbra, but its focus was quickly shifted to the mention of Aldion, of Souls, and of his hell–its pages rapidly flicked back and forth, seeming to be able to open themselves to multiple pages at once. Different colours of scrawling text overlaid themselves across the surface of the myriad pages, and the air shimmered with the intensity of the energy and thought running through the Kathetikon’s mind as it pondered Ashe’s words, giving them the attention and curiosity they were no doubt due. Though they had not encountered another of their divine siblings yet (Anath Homura being more like their mother than a peer), the Kathetikon allowed a faint hope to blossom within it that more of them would be like Ashe, willing to opine upon the subjects that they knew and embodied, and eager to learn of more both within and within their areas of expertise.
It then began trying to formulate a response to her musings once more, only to be immediately and totally derailed by her musings on the nature of contracts and pacts–the multitudinous visage of its pages settled into a singularity once more, opening to Appendix LXXXVMMCDLV: Contracts, Pacts, and Societal Law as it began to eagerly participate in the rapid back-and-forth of conversation between them. Though Ashe was undoubtedly the superior in terms of absolute knowledge, the pair always managed to find some avenue of inquiry that the other simply didn’t know or hadn’t considered, and the Kathetikon was always happy to supplement Ashe’s lines of discussion with examples from adjacent topics that helped provide additional context. By the time they had finished their rambling discussion several more days and nights had passed, and the Tome of All Things’ energy radiated with a sense of contentment and satiety for a precious few moments before the underlying hunger of curiosity began to surface.
”Ah, but we were talking about your Umbra! No, they gave me no offence: in fact, I rather admired their commitment to the ideal of trade even when confronted with a being of overwhelming power. To see what shape curiosity takes within them under such conditions is a truly fascinating topic, one that I believe could propel them to much prominence among the mortal lifeforms that will come to dominate the world. You mentioned Aldion and his hell–and that the souls of your Umbra are destined for that place should they fail to uphold the standards of trade you have committed them to. What manner of afterlife is this hell? All I know of Aldion is that they are red, and that they are one of our siblings.”
The conversation about pacts and contracts went on for longer than Ashevelen even realised actually passed initially and many of the points which Kathe’ mentioned were valid in more ways than one but invalid at the same time depending on which rules of the universe you’d base it on.
“ Truly remarkable. I haven’t met many who could almost match me when it came to trading, contracts and pacts. The two of us will become good friends Kathe’, I can tell you that for sure. There are many other topics I wish to discuss with you but, quite a long time passed, as I am sure you’ve noticed and I was about to embark on a journey. Ah’, apologies, as I said, it’s been a long time since I met one such as you and I got distracted. My Umbra, yes, I’ve taught them as much as their mortal minds could handle at this stage and they still had the guts to ask a divine for something, quite smart mortals I created, if I do say so myself. And, yes. That is my plan, for them to dominate the world, not in a militaristic way but via commerce and knowledge. Do you know that when they reproduce, their “baby” is actually still them? Same knowledge as the original one but younger. In a thousand years, there will still be Umbra who remember how they were brought into the world. I haven’t made them…wait…” replied Ashe before stopping for a few seconds, moving her hands and suddenly, out of shadows, a chair appeared in the air and a pedestal for the book to stand on.
“ There, that’s better. Hope the pedestal is up to your standards, more comfortable this way. Where were we? Ah, yes. Aldion. I haven’t yet seen his realm myself but from how he described it, the souls of the worst mortals to be born or made will be naturally drawn to it or carried by the Ferryman, another divine, to it. There, they’re gonna be tortured for as long as Aldion wishes for or until they’ve repent. I am more than happy to show you the terms of the deal I have with him and the Ferryman. As for how he is, I’d say he’s an honourable divine. ” continued Ashe and upon finishing, she snapped her fingers and the terms of the deal appeared on a paper in front of her, alongside with descriptions of the two divines she mentioned.
“ Do you wish me to read it to you or provide you with a copy? Both work for me. ” quickly added Ashe.
The Kathetikon mulled Ashe’s words over carefully, little wisps of energy emanating from it and forming unfathomable swirls and shapes as they dissipated into nothingness. It let out a pleased burst of dark grey energy as the pedestal appeared beneath it, writing a quick note of thanks in the air above itself as it continued to ponder what had been said.
”Ah, a punitive afterlife. Just as there is reward, so too must there be punishment–I am so very eager to understand how Aldion has chosen for this system to work, and to see what happens to those mortal souls that are destined for that place. I shall have to speak to this Ferryman anon, as they will surely be able to provide me with the information regarding the foundations of this system–once again I am indebted to you for this information.” the Kathetikon began, its words soundlessly thrumming through the air, until all of a sudden its pages began to shift and change once more, turning back and forth with wild abandon, until they stopped at a copy of the very document that Ashe had proffered to it.
”I am the Kathetikon, dear Ashevelen, and all that is written is contained within my pages–minus that which my siblings wish to keep private, of course. All that was required was your permission and it became known to me. You must allow me to repay this kindness: I have taught the villagers of a little settlement known as Logiopolis–”” it began, suddenly transforming the area around them into a relative map of the world as it had been able to observe it thus far with a bright flicker of divine power. It made sure to highlight the location of Logiopolis in particular, and precisely where it was in relation to their current position, before continuing: ”a language known as Polyglos. Though only those blessed by my power are able to write it, all who lay eyes upon it are able to understand what it means–even those who are not literate, or have no immediate concept of language in their mind. I intended for them to use it to spread knowledge to all those they meet, but it strikes me given our conversation that it would be an excellent official trading language for the Umbra. I am happy to teach them all how to write it, and it will allow them to broker trade agreements with beings they could not ordinarily do so. While it was intended to allow for the honest and transparent transmission of thought, I am happy to subtly modify it for them so that they will be able to engage in clever wordplay and ensnare the less learned with pacts and contracts that are to their advantage. Would this suffice as payment for the knowledge and wonderful company that you have offered to me?” it continued, the corners of its pages fluttering in a way that could only denote excitement (or possibly fear, though that seemed much less likely given the circumstances).
“ It’s an interesting system, that’s for sure. I’ve got my own idea of how my realm will be, but that’s for later. I cannot speak for Aldion’s reasoning behind his afterlife but feel free to contact him and I’m sure he’s more than happy to explain his point of view. As for the Ferryman…well, he’s an interesting fellow. Very funny at times, especially in the company of Myrtu, another one of our divine siblings. If you haven’t met them yet, you have to. ” replied Ashe with a smile, remembering her time on the Ferryman’s Wellington and the meeting with Myrtu.
With a small seated bow, Ashevelen grinned. “ Apologies, sibling. I keep forgetting that your form isn’t…a common one. Feel free to access any of the knowledge I taught the Umbra but with one condition, don’t share it with those that don’t pay for it. One way or the other. Just as a small favour from one divine to another.
As for this language you’re talking about. Hmm, it sounds like an interesting concept. I planned to create one myself later on after they manage to evolve a bit but, if it was already taught to others, it would make sense for the Umbra to learn it as well. So, while it isn’t something I tend to do very often… or at all even, I agree -without the need of haggling for this. Company is given for company and knowledge for knowledge. A fair trade if I say so myself. ” said Ashevelen, as she stood up from her seat and, at the Kathetikon’s request, she began to write the details of everything they talked about and the details of the trade in the book, using an ink made of her shadows to write it.
“ Shadowton, as my Umbra named it, lies to the south of this place. ” added Ashevelen as she used the same trick Kathe’ used earlier but in a shadowy version and drew them a map to how to get there.
“ I hope you’ll forgive me but I shan’t be coming with you. Just show them–” further continued Ashe, as a shadow-coin appeared in hand and flung it over to the book before continuing “--my coin and they’ll understand it is a trade that I have agreed to. Keep the coin afterwards if you wish to, it will be used everywhere in this world later on. ”
”A fairer exchange I have not had yet, nor do I expect to in the future. I shall have to create a place to store this coin, perhaps I will do so close to this Shadowton you speak of–a trade route that would benefit us all, no? Goodbye, sibling, may we find each other well again soon!" the Kathetikon began, allowing the coin to land on its pages and balance carefully. It quickly caused the shadowy coin to darken slightly and sink into the pages, becoming a drawing, and began to follow the directions that Ashe had given it, happy to learn more about a new place and put another of its endless questions to rest. As it began to travel leisurely along the path that Ashe had pointed out it began to wonder if it could conduct another experiment: while it had taught the beings at Logiopolis directly and made its involvement known, perhaps it would be an interesting study to see how the Umbra would use the gift it had given them without it revealing its hand in doing so. It was quite sure they would attribute it to some blessing of their Goddess, or else some benefit from a trade or a pact made similarly to the one that would send their souls to Hell should they fail to trade. As it would need to visit this little town anyway to fulfil the terms with its agreement with Ashe, the Kathetikon drew forth its divine power in the form of a complex series of glyphs made from pitch-black ink. They hovered in the air for a moment before returning to a liquid state and dripping down onto the distant ground below, sneaking through the shadows provided by the canopy off towards Shadowton in order to merge with the Umbra. With that done, the Kathetikon continued its journey, stopping every so often to record some ambient phenomenon it was experiencing or muse about the nature of things to itself, frequently talking to an Anagnostis that was not there.
Ashevelen starts her journey or would’ve if some other divine makes its way towards the Umbral Forest. She meets with them and discovers a divine form she hasn’t seen before. Inspired by the boundless knowledge the divine had, they talked for many days and nights about trading and pacts, gave him knowledge of the other divines Ashe met and then they tell her about the Umbra from Logio’. Eventually they agree on a fair trade with them teaching the Umbra in Shadowton the Polyglos language.
Ashevelen - 0/0 Kathetikon - 3/0
-1 MP (Discounted from 2 from Curiosity aspect) - Teach the Umbra of Shadowton Polyglos, a written language that can be understood by anybody that reads it. This variant allows them to use clever wordplay in order to make trades and deals that are beneficial to them.
Behold the Terrorists of Valhalla:
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/321692496294051842/475442171814608908/unknown.png[/img]
Behold the Cavemen of Valhalla:
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/321692496294051842/475840294785646593/Untitled.png[/img]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Behold the Terrorists of Valhalla:<br><br><img src="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/321692496294051842/475442171814608908/unknown.png" /><br><br>Behold the Cavemen of Valhalla:<br><br><img src="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/321692496294051842/475840294785646593/Untitled.png" /></div>
FernStone
Kalas
Shienvien
Noctis
Fetzen
The Grey Dust
Mixtape Ghost N
