yoshua171

Yoshua's Character Storage Mark VII

The Primal

Theme

_{^{He Who Twists and Breaks and Changes}}

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^{The Primal | The Great Presence | Moniker | The Formless Flesh | The Unbound}

The Domain of Form

The primordial ooze from which life once sprung, the Domain of Form is just as one might think: that which presides over all living shapes. It is the domain of flesh, and blood, and bone. It is the flexing of muscles, the products of glands, the vessel for consciousness, and the foundation of all life. Sa'a Malath Kaal is both the quintessential source of primal physicality and the legacy of that which coalesced from the remnants of the decaying cosmos and its forgotten gods. With this power he can mold the shape of all that lives so long as from substance it was wrought. From this primordial ooze a vital essence erupts, which by his will arises as beings of great variance in form, size, or function. However only the forms that living, evolving flesh might take can be rendered from this essence and so is the Deity of Form bound by its own essential nature.

Yet as the Domain of Form--as understood by the deific intellect of the Great Presence--begets shape and function, so too does it dictate evolution and change. It is the shifting of the body from parent to child and the gift of metamorphosis. Similarly, it is the curse of deserved (but oft unwanted) transmutation of limb or spine or fang. Just as from that wellspring did all forms once coalesce, so too may it transform them.

TL;DR

The Domain of Form is concerned, mechanically, with all things biological with a particular focus on the process of metamorphosis and/or evolution. The domain may be used to influence the shape, size, and function of organisms, as well as to outright create such. It is limited by its nature as it cannot create non-biological entities though it has the capacity to interface with them by creating organic structures that can interact with said forces or beings.

Persona

A form in flux, a mind to match, Malath Kaal is an entity engrossed in its own nature, in the endless possibilities of Form, concerned with life (but not worried by it). He is a being interested in balance and imbalance, predation and prey—survival and alteration and change. The Great Presence, the Formless Flesh, the Unbent, the Primal is intrigued by mortalkind, be it their minds, the forms, or even those instinct-driven beasts that live in the wild--or the many florae they devour.

So say his edicts: Living is essential; Metamorphosis divine.

-- Myth --
The Tale of Tsa Merek

[+]

A long journey was behind him for it had been an arduous trek from his homeland across rivers, around lakes, and through treacherous plains filled with predators in a world that was not kind to those few left to inhabit it. It had been after months that he'd finally stood before the great mountain that his people revered, the place known as the Black Maw. From afar it had seemed almost normal, though vastly greater in size than its many peers which stretched from east to west to either side of the monolithic peak. Now however, from so close, Tsa Merek beheld the truth.

Before him opened a perfect parabola, an arch, a gateway beyond which light seemed not to pass. Above it was the mountain, its peak stretching past clouds and into the blue skein of the heavens. Unlike its slate grey relatives with their reddened cliffs and white snow-capped peaks, the entirety of this mountain seemed as if it had been wrought from the night sky, but bereft of stars. It was utterly black from base to tip, and had it not been midday Merek might have missed the deeper darkness of its entrance.

To look upon it was to glimpse the threshold between the mortal world and the divine, it was to peer into an unknown beyond which one could not fathom the contents of the world. Merek swallowed hard, feeling bile travel down his throat, going back from where it had risen. The sensation reminded him of the stories their shaman had told him of the Primal's wrath.

"To gain the Ire of the Unbound God is to open oneself to the fullness of its attention. For his gaze to fall upon you is to feel the writhing of your flesh as it is twisted against your will. Malath will change you without care, its intentions beyond any mortal's ability to comprehend. Know this, Tsa Merek, to pass beyond the threshold of the Black Maw is to step into the domain of that god. To stand in the Primal's abode is to invite his judgment. Step lightly and speak with only truth and conviction. Do not lie, Merek. Do not lie, for to do so is to invite the wrath of eons into your body."

They were words he could not have forgotten. Even when his memory had begun to fail him he had repeated them, he had scratched them into stone, then into his flesh. They were engraved upon his chest. Not so he could read them, but so he knew the meaning was writ upon his being.

He took a breath and stepped beyond the threshold of the Maw; what awaited him was silence, stillness, and an impossible abyss. The ground was cold and level, perfectly smooth, but as he continued forwards, reeling in the dark, it warmed beneath his feet. Slowly it seemed almost to come alive as a gentle thrumming pulse beat a soothing rhythm against his soles. He grit his teeth and barely breathed, terrified by the black. He faltered, glancing back only to find that no exit remained behind him. Where before the threshold once had stood, there was only endless black, as with every other direction.

Turning back around, he remained still, unable to move. He was terrified, moreso than he had imagined he would be. In that moment he thought--no, he was certain--that he was going to die. Then the silence broke and the mountain shook as the Black Maw--Se'raa Kelet--spoke.

"Tsa Merek. Seeker, Father, Adherent," the voice said, shaking his bones with its vibration. The darkness changed, but Merek could not decide how, for no light had entered the god's domain. Unsure what else to do, the man moved slowly to his knees, prostrating himself before the force he had come there to entreat.

"Please," Tsa Merek said, his voice feeling tinny and small, his ears still ringing from the thunder of the Maw. For a time there was no response, in fact no sound at all, and then something slipped against him, fluttering across the cloth of his back. He shuddered as--moments later--the sound of something huge dragging lithely across smooth stone emanated from behind him.

Slowly more sounds faded into his awareness, each accompanied by the churning of the air as if something unfathomably vast was moving through the chamber.

"Seeker of protection, O' ye of tested faith," began the low drone of that titanic voice, its sound sonorous and primal. "Mah Lia you have abandoned, left behind in your home of earth. Your people did you depart, seeking out divines with which to consort. Seeking aid, seeking miracles unearned."

Though he could not see, Merek's eyes widened at each utterance of the voice, his heart growing panicked and frantic in its rhythm.

"Begging you kneel before me, your convictions frail as grass or leaves or silt."

Directly before him something struck the stone. It did not crack, but the sheer force of the thing pushed him back as wind blasted from its point of contact. Curling in on himself as he recovered, Tsa Merek peered desperately into the dark, seeking any sign of hope.

"Please," he whimpered, terror in his tone, "...I came only for my people, to save them from famine and from drought."

The sounds stopped and stillness returned.

The shadows unfurled and from them emerged a symbol. Merek gasped.

The Eye of Malath had opened before him and briefly beyond its glowing gaze the man had glimpsed a vessel of monolithic size. It coiled and writhed and twisted through the chamber, its many limbs pressed against the walls and floor. Yet, he had caught only the barest image of the Deity of Form, seen only a silhouette frozen in two moments before the light became a blinding brightness that shook his mind and body both.

"Seeker. Father. Faithful child, protector of the weak," proclaimed the Eye.

Merek did not hear the words, he felt them in his bones. He heard them with his flesh, they tingled across his skin and rippled in waves throughout his mind and every neuron in his form. The light grew and its glow suffused him, filled him, lifted him from the ground. He opened his mouth, but could not scream or speak or cry. His body shook, but not from fear, no; it was like every iota of his being was vibrating with the power of that deific entity before him. Yet, something was wrong, deeply wrong, for his mind--his awareness of himself--faded as the power grew in intensity and size.

'No!' his mind screamed out, but there came no response and soon the man-who-was-not-a-man, who had once been Merek, had forgotten his distress and even why he might have felt it.

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For many days after he wandered the land, trekking across the wilderness, through storm and flame and snow, until finally, he came upon a village. Red-leaved trees and buried houses which perhaps once were carved from stone. A sense of familiarity came upon him and with it came the light. Kindled within him, it grew and grew...and grew. No, it was he who changed as the light added to his bulk even moreso than before. Once more he forgot his former shape, becoming sluggish in his expanse. In time, the sweat from his many glands fed the earth around what the man Merek had once known as his home. Plants grew and the people--once his family and his friends--took of his flesh to feed upon.

As they rose from the darkness of their homes and cast aside the misery of starvation a feeling came upon the man who had a beast become; Satisfaction.

Visage

[+]

The Primal

Formless, yet possessed of all that flesh might birth, the True Form of Malath Kaal is one both of endless metamorphosis and imperceptible stability. Ever-shrouded by a blanket of midnight fog, attempting to behold the Great Presence in its entirety is an impossibility. Instead, one catches only glimpses, hears only the sounds of claws grinding, flesh slithering, and limbs skittering over surfaces. Eyes and lengths of winding viscera and bone, skin or muscle are seen, but never all at once. Utterly an enigma, the shape of this God of Form is its own contradiction for while it is ever-changing, it too is utterly unchanged, remaining always in a static form whose various aspects cross between the perceptible and the unseen at the slightest whim or provocation--or so one might theorize.

The Eye of Malath

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Image courtesy of the amazingly skilled CorrosiveCherri!
_vvv ^{Click for full preview.} _vvv

The Primal simplified, the Eye of Malath is a symbol of variable size, color, and luminosity that can appear before those upon which the Great Presence’s attention falls. While not precisely a form in the truest sense, it is instead a non-physical projection of the god’s awareness, appearing only where its awareness is most focused. This state of being is possessed of strange properties, as it is unburdened by the limitations of flesh and of anonymity that the True Form imposes upon the Primal. Thus, the Eye can pass beyond barriers, solid or energetic, or even interpose itself upon the forms of entities less than divine. Though all forms of Malath have the capacity to invoke drastic and incredible changes upon the vessels of living things, it is the Eye that can do so with no more than the faintest touch from the strange illumination it emits.

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay, Mk. V

Hmmm

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

I gotta say, it really is hard to resist the urge to shitpost at this point. I won't, since POO asked not to, but like hooo weee would it be fun.

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

This just got spicy.

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

I think "most people," are "succeeding," because a lot of them are just joining already existing RPs, or they have been around n the site for a long ass time and have developed either a good reputation or a group of people they can write with/rely on (or it's both of these things). Also, I think the vast majority of people on the site are looking for group RPs, and so end up in group RPs.

Beyond that, uh, it's a matter of luck, timing, effort, etc.

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

@rebornfan320

It's funny because it's so easy to think that other people are having a much easier time than you. The reason for that is generally--unless you're specifically looking for it--you only ever see people's successes (RPs that are active/alive long enough for you to notice), whereas their failures (so to speak) are quickly swallowed by newer, more active threads, as they are pushed further and further back through numerous pages.

So yeah, this idea that "everyone else is galloping," is just a result of you not paying individual attention to every attempt that other users on this site have made to get something going. Plus, other aspects of that just happen behind the scenes (On discord, in PMs, etc) so there's not even any chance for you to see it.

Essentially, if you're only looking for peoples' successes, that's the only thing you're going to see.

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

@rebornfan320 aight, so I gotta level with you man. If you started a decade ago, right, and then 3-5 years ago suddenly you started just...getting tons of abandoned RPs/ghosters etc, then something changed. Either every single person over literally 100s of threads (by your own count) were miraculously all just terrible at communication and had no regard for anyone else but themselves or something changed in you. The latter is more likely.

Further, people can understand where you're coming from, but not agree with you. This may make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry if it does, but it's true. Just about everyone in this thread has been at the very least on the Guild just as long as you, and who knows how long on Old Guild or websites prior to that, so the chance that all of us (and the 100s of people who ghosted you) are wrong is basically zero. The odds on that are definitely not in your favor my dude ^^;

Furthermore, idk about everyone else, but I've been RPing for roughly over 12 years and I've felt what you're feeling before. So I can definitely understand and empathize. I bet a bunch of other people here have felt this same way, I bet some portion of those people who have, also sometimes feel mad jaded by putting themselves out there and nothing coming of it. The difference though, between you and them is most people move on from it and try to do better, whereas you are dwelling on it and letting it be the only thing that is true to you.

Sorry man, other people also have experiences just as valid as yours--even similar ones--and just because they disagree, does not make what they're saying any less valuable or accurate.

But hey, I'm just some dude on the internet. Just a dude who has also been doing this for a ludicrously long period of time. Just a dude who sometimes feels this same way, but doesn't actually go and blame other people about it because it's more pointless than just...trying harder. I'm just some guy, what do I know, right?

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

@rebornfan320 Bruh, how long have you been RPing?

Why Is No One Joining My RP (General Advice Thread)

Oh, something else to keep in mind when it comes to taking constructive criticism is that trying a piece of advice once and it failing does not constitute the advice being wrong or responsible for the failure. It just means you tried it once and that time didn't work. Try again.

Don't drop a piece of advice just because it fails once, twice, or three times. If you've tried to make RPs/threads X amount of times and have gotten failure (resulting in a perception of a pattern of failures/bad luck) then why not try a given piece of advice (or more than one) just as many times to see if that method has the same rate of failure.

That or just...give up, find some other hobby as others have mentioned.

Divinus: The God RP, Mk. IV

^{A Collab Between @yoshua171 & @Valor}

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It had been a fairly short amount of time since Celestine had stirred sentience within her Virtus Elves. The experience of cultivating sentience within them had been a fairly intense one, and the exhausted feeling that came afterward was not one that Celestine particularly enjoyed. Thankfully her reserves of divine energy had recovered at this point and she was feeling much better. During her resting time Celestine had once more cast her divine senses upon Galbar in order to watch the ongoing events that were taking place. These events caused Celestine to reach a fairly grim conclusion: No matter how much she prepared them, her Virtus Elves would face struggle.

This led to an intricate problem: Should a critical Virtus Elf be killed, the overall society might suffer greatly. Celestine’s first idea was to attempt to teach them all equally in every topic, but she then rationalized that such a process was too inefficient and caused them to be entirely dependent on her being free to teach them all, which was a risky proposition. Celestine then figured that she could infuse a select handful of them with advanced knowledge and allow them to spread their teachings to the others, but she then rationalized that this would create an inequality between those who were highly knowledgeable and those who were not.

Tapping a finger against her chin as she reclined in the throne that sat above the Longhall, Celestine finally came to the conclusion that she would have to seek outside advice regarding this particular subject. Rising from her throne, Celestine moved to her personal chambers and approached the desk that she kept there. Sitting down, she fetched some parchment and writing utensils in order to craft something that she could place upon the notice board that she had seen earlier.

Starting to write, Celestine stopped a few moments after she began in order to think about how exactly she wanted to phrase her request. Tapping her pen against her chin Celestine looked about her personal quarters for a few moments in order to see if there was something that she might be able to emulate. It was then that her eyes settled upon the bookcase that had never been used. Celestine read the titles of the books on chivalry and knighthood, knowing the contents of each book perfectly without ever having opened them. It was then that inspiration came to her, and she resumed writing once more.

Seeking assistance of a more experienced god for the creation of a memory library. Visit the realm of Celestine for more information.

Setting her pen down, Celestine looked over the small piece of parchment and nodded to herself. It would do well enough. Rising from the chair, Celestine made her way to the visitation chamber and then stepped through her portal to Antiquity with confidence.

As soon as she emerged from her portal completely, Celestine made her way to the notice board that she had found earlier. Making use of the tools present she placed her notice firmly upon the board before nodding to herself and turning to leave.

It was then that she noticed that she was not quite alone.

For before her loomed the figure of a most imposing Presence. Down upon her did it gaze with lidded eyes, its form wreathed in a shroud of silvers, blacks, and pallid white. Its flesh was like a starlight spackled void writ into a vessel most divine. There was an ancient endless air about it, a great weight it seemed to bear.

It spoke, and its voice was a quiet thrumming thunder, resonating in her chest; it pressed outwards through her bones and into the ancient stone of Antiquity. "Greetings, sister," the Presence said, its tone like music, but subtly strange as if the instrument were faintly damaged. Its shroud billowed slowly, driven to movement, though no true wind blew in that stolid place between. It was a force familiar yet all-together different. It was the twisting of minds to tasks, the awakening of reflection. It was the glimmer of intellect within even the smallest spirit--be it stone or bird or sky.

It was emotion, pure, varied, and unrestrained by vessel or mortal mind. Writ in the hues of many faded colors, those feelings swept back and forth between them. They scattered in harmless drifting waves. As vigilant as she was, Celestine would notice his gaze upon her--though it was eyeless and thus quite vague. There was an intensity to it, one which at the very least matched that of Thaa's.

Satisfied, its intent withdrew, and once more it let words flow upon the air. "I am the Dreaming God," it said, then fell silent so that it might allow her to reply.

The imposing presence of the Dreaming God unnerved Celestine when she turned to face them. Not only did she nearly walk face-first into the swirling void that made up their body but their entirely otherworldly appearance gave Celestine a brief cause for alarm before she recognized that this entity wasn’t hostile. Instincts flared violently before being quenched quickly as Celestine’s rational mind figured things out. Depending on how keenly they were observing Celestine, they might’ve noticed a faint twitch in her left hand as she almost went for the sword hanging upon her right hip. Thankfully her mind was just as fast as her body. The effects of the Dreaming God’s method of speaking were quite perplexing to her, as she noted how she felt their voice rather than merely hearing it. Thaa’s method of speaking through a mountain of corpses was equally perplexing, though at the very least that method still made some amount of reasonable sense within Celestine’s mind.

Her own appearance and the appearance of Cadien had led her to believe that many of her fellow deities would take on more mortal forms, but then her visit to the realm of Thaa had proven that deities were not limited to such an idea, and the being before her pushed that boundary even further. Perhaps she and Cadien were the exception and not the rule? Celestine would have to see about meeting more gods and goddesses before figuring out the truth behind that enigma.

The Dreaming God had the honor of being the second god that Celestine had to look up at in order to properly examine them. The way that they presented themselves was fairly interesting as Celestine noted a mix of both corporeal and incorporeal elements. After a few moments processing what had just happened and the physical appearance of the being before her Celestine remembered her manners and began her usual greeting routine. Grasping at the edges of her cape like one would a skirt, she gave a curtsey and spoke calmly. ”Greetings brother. I am Celestine, Goddess of Soldiery. Did you have something that you wished to speak to me about?”

Standing from her curtsey Celestine smoothed out her cape and awaited a response from the Dreaming God. Perhaps they wanted to speak with her about the notice that she had just posted? It would be awfully convenient to progress her idea while it was fresh within her mind instead of having to recall the information at a later time. Though, naturally, there was only one way to find out for sure.

The air crackled briefly with the sensation of anticipation, before falling once more to the subtle sway of extant emotions as he regarded her once more. Then his awareness expanded and touched the board behind her, and a fleeting sense of amusement would tug faintly at the edges of her mind. It was not an intrusive thing, but merely the evidence of his nearness and the influence of his nature.

As if pondering her query, he responded, each word seeming listless in its timbre.

"Mmn, one could say that such is true, sister-Celestine," then a pause, dragging into silence, as the Presence thought upon its words. In that time of wordless wondering, the emotion-wind began to swirl and churn. They did not seem to completely mirror the Dreaming God's own reflected thoughts but instead began to weave their own tapestry of meaning.

'Wariness,' said the swaying thoughts, twisting about themselves in patterns.

'Trust,' said another gust of wavelengths as they brushed past her hair and ears, coiling away in swirls.

'Awareness,' the third uttered, the sound fluttering like a whispered breath across her skin.

The Presence stirred, seeming to constrict like narrowed eyes. The winds grew quiet once again. Its voice then pressed into her skull and was felt as much as heard, "I glimpsed your essence, sister, as you departed the Death God's realm."

The words were laden full with meaning, weighty in their bulk. They spoke of curiosity unending, a drive to find and learn, and know from the shallow surface to the deeper secrets held hidden far below. The air about the Dreamer shifted, and once again, he spoke.

"Yet," he started, but the rest never came. Instead, a mass of churning insight erupted from his shroud. It writhed about them both until it was all that they could see.

In it were the vaguest shapes of her creations, her children of newborn minds. Beyond these intimations was an Endless Dream--a Subtle Web--through which all living, thinking, things remained connected. It danced and swirled and thrummed with an intensity that few things could match. If she were to look upon him, she'd find his eyes open, no longer hidden from the world.

Black, bottomless cores, plummeting into infinity. Exploding nebulae, dying stars, spread outwards from the darkness of his gaze. There was something bizarre--yet fitting--about the sight. A being of endless knowledge, boundless thought and feeling, yet seeming to always hunger for more. Perhaps it was not a vile emptiness, but merely a sad truth of his nature.

Perhaps.

The veil of color and sensation began to ebb its flow, drifting in many threads to clear the air.

"I would help if you will let me," the Presence said, its words a proclamation.

The presence of the whispered voices unnerved Celestine slightly, especially with their insistence upon touching her as they passed. Unfortunately, such things had to be abided as not all gods took so closely after mortals, and the Dreamer clearly didn’t seem inclined to follow their patterns beyond the slightest degree of acknowledgement. When they mentioned that they had seen her leaving the realm of Thaa, Celestine raised an eyebrow by only a millimeter. Her activity had drawn an observer? How curious. Celestine pondered if more than one being had observed her entering and exiting the realm of Thaa, but such a concern was waylaid promptly as she heard the Dreamer speak once again. However, this was only a single word before something quite concerning happened.

When the mass of churning insight erupted around them, Celestine’s hand was not stopped by her rationality. Her sword was drawn promptly and was raised in a simple single-handed longpoint guard as she found herself surrounded by an unexplained and unexpected event. It was not until she saw the presence of her Virtus Elves within the surrounding mass of churning insight did her focus break from defending herself from possible attack.

As she observed the event and connected the dots about what was being shown Celestine would relax her guard slightly, and then completely as the mass began to dissipate. Gently placing the tip of her sword within her scabbard, Celestine slid it gently back into place with a soft metallic clink. Looking back to the Dreamer, Celestine began to speak. ”Please inform me ahead of time if that is going to happen again. I don’t really enjoy the prospect of spontaneous happenings that may or may not endanger me. Also, I must apologise for going for my sword. It is merely my natural reaction to a potential threat. Moving along, how did you intend to assist me? I will hear out your offer.”

When she finished speaking, Celestine placed her right hand upon the pommel of her sword and her left hand upon her hip. Then she could do naught else but wait to see what The Dreaming God had to say.

Slowly, the eyes of that Dreaming God once more slid shut, hiding their darkness from the world. Considering her response, the Presence constricted his power and rather than express it in great swaths of enveloping experience, it instead became writ in its shroud.

Billowing backwards from the deity of dreams, the grey shroud took on many colors and spread out to take up a wider space behind him. Then, as images of the Virtus elves formed, he spoke.

“A library of experiences, of memories as you say,” he began, his words mirrored in his shrouds, creating images of books and endless shelves all held within a dreaming realm. “This is a thing that I would gladly do.”

“However,” he began, his black-orbs opening as tiny slits, “I would ask of you a simple thing in return.”

He held out a hand, its fingers long and spindly with perhaps too many joints. Nonetheless, there was no threat in the motion.

“Communion, so that I might serve your children better.”

The colors of his shroud grew strangely muted and his black eyes seemed to flash with the vanishing light of dying stars. He awaited her reply with anticipation, hoping she’d agree.

Celestine observed the images of her Virtus Elves within the Dreamer’s cloak for a few moments before turning her attention back to the deity. As they spoke, she began to grow considerate of accepting the offer, but the next thing that they said inserted a splinter into her mind.

”Keep in mind at all times there is always an angle.

Thaa’s advice from earlier was once again made relevant as the Dreamer asked to commune with her. Celestine did not know the extent of a communion that they wanted, nor did she know what else the dreamer might seek to learn other than details about her Virtus Elves. Some parts of her wanted to reject the offer until these details were known, but she also rationalized that doing so would put the entire offer in jeopardy. It would appear that this would have to simply be a risk that she accepted.

Taking a moment to retrieve and crumple the notice that she had put up, Celestine would then grasp the offered hand firmly before speaking with confidence. ”Very well. I accept.”

Vigilance would have to be kept for deception. Hopefully it would not be needed.

So it was that he took her hand and met her gaze. In those black slits was an inscrutable smile.

"I will not harm you," he said, and it was one utterance.

"It is communion," he repeated, and it was three.

Then blindness. An eternity.

Motion.

Across the endless white of her perception, filled once only with her thoughts, shot flashes like lightning writ from pitch. Then thunder without sound. It emanated through her mind, but the world remained silent and far away. Divided.

Slowly, from above and below, from every direction, color crept. None were muted. Each was a single thought, an experience, an emotion. Together they were a tangle, a weave, a river of endless currents.

They flowed inwards, eclipsing at first the blinding white, then her as well.

His hand tightened, as if to anchor her, but its touch was gentle. A rising sensation entered her body, and it was as if she expanded outwards. Perhaps she might recall the time when her mind had swept over Galbar, or that tractless eternity before her current self.

Lifeblood's Warmth. The womb of gods. Oblivion. Eternity. The Origin.

A whisper dripped between her thoughts.

It had a dark texture. Like gritty tar. Like viscous fluid; congealed blood. Then smoke: ethereal, untouchable, yet choking.

The feeling passed.

With a suddenness the world realigned and though everything was different, nothing had changed.

Except her.

"I am Os-fhireach," proclaimed a voice--was it his...or hers?

"I am Neo-Aicheil," he repeated.

"I am Aicheil," they replied.

Yet, there was something else. There were more facets within the endless gem of that boundless dreaming god. Among them was another pattern, hiding. Its tendrils were a pulsing network of creeping black, coiling and skittering through it all.

Mhaireann, the pattern said.

For a moment there would be no thought, only the churning mass of emotion and experience--every idea that was and could be, every possibility that mortals had lived...might live...were living. Then all was revealed. The pattern's motion became clear to her and her to it.

She was a lattice, a structure of order and of logic. A machine made to bind a sleeping beast, which lay beneath a well of coiled intimate emotion. It was a thing of beauty and it became imprinted upon his mind. Yet, she did not lose it, for that control was her anchor, that lattice was her mind. It was her way.

He withdrew his hand and the tapestry of thought--the pattern of consciousness, perhaps even existence--vanished in a flash. Left behind were fear and confusion and perhaps awe or loss. The Presence retreated a step, giving her space. Though he did not breathe, something about him seemed...briefly overwhelmed, before it swiftly became more solid.

Where the veins of power about his lidded eyes had once pulsed black, now they flowed with silver light. His form had shifted, it appeared somehow more regal now. A crown of stars drifted above his head, his shroud billowed out, as if driven by a constant unseen wind. There was a new solidity to him.

He opened his eyes, those endless pits, and gazed upon her form. Knowing it. Knowing her.

Unthreatening, he raised a many-jointed hand and plucked the image of an elf directly from his shroud, drawing it before him. He waited, observing.

Communion’s effects were frightening at first, with the white nothingness leading to think that she had been deceived. Tricked into some kind of prison where her divinity could be drained until she was no more. The lightning hewn from black pitch did not assist her concern over the unfolding events, as she had no perception of the flow of time within this snowy void.

As more colors began to spread across the void she began to relax and trust more in the assurance that she would not be harmed. As the flow of colors and sensations eclipsed Celestine she pondered once again if she had been duped, but those thoughts were set aside as she began to feel similar sensations as to her first moments of individual thought. This was certainly a strange sensation, as these moments were still relatively fresh within her mind as she hadn’t been parted from the lifeblood for nearly as long as some of the other gods that she had met.

As things shifted once again she began to feel an encroaching presence within her thoughts. Set upon edge once more, Celestine nearly raised her mental defenses to the fullest when she heard a duo of voices begin to speak. Upon hearing the names of this duo, things began to make more sense. The Dreaming God was not merely one mind like she herself was, but two. Now the various displays and oddities began to click together in her head as her understanding grew. As she studied the presences before her, Celestine’s divine senses began to lead her to believe that there were possibly more than two minds within the Dreamer, but anything beyond the voices that she was hearing was simply too nebulous to properly see.

A few moments later she was greeted with what seemed to be a projection of the structure of her own mind. Perhaps this had been what the Dreamer had been seeking. To understand just how Celestine’s mind functioned. Given what she saw before her now she rationalized that he had come to understand it. Perhaps this was the ultimate goal of the twin minds of the Dreamer? To figure out how the minds of individually minded gods so that they could unify as one? Celestine figured that it was not her place to know this, and thus dismissed the possibility lest it come to cloud her perception of events in front of her.

As the communion ended, Celestine found herself grounded in Antiquity once more. A peaceful feeling flowed across her mind as she was once again comprehending things in the manner that she was used to. Taking a moment to make sure that her faculties were in order once again, Celestine turned her attention back to the Dreamer once she was done. It was now that she noted that their features had changed slightly, likely a reflection of the understanding they had gained from the communion. Deciding to avoid commenting on it, Celestine merely waited to see what would happen.

It was then that the Dreamer drew forth the form of an elf from their shroud. Celestine was curious as to what they might be thinking, and since they seemed to be paused in their actions Celestine decided to speak in order to try and figure out what they were contemplating. ”Is there something more that you require of me, or are you merely studying the form that my creation has taken?”

A rumbling chuckle shook Antiquity’s stone, its sound vibrating through the bones of her lifeblood form. The Dreamer shook its head and spoke. “We know these, your creations, for they are of you.”

There was a smile in those words and an endless knowledge in the dark voids of those black orbs. “Watch,” he requested, “...listen,” he continued.

The depiction of her child grew in size, though there remained a sense not that it would truly become larger. Then it seemed to grow hazy at the edges before the impression spread throughout. In an instant, something else snapped into focus, a complex array that spread from the skull of the depiction and outwards into their body. It pulsed with awareness and that pulse would tell her of what she now bore witness.

It was the mind of her child, or at least as their minds were.

Like swirling prismatic lanterns, condensed down to pinpricks, two minuscule glowing pupils shown from within the endless dark of the Dreaming God’s visage, meeting her gaze. Almost unbidden--though far less intense--a remembrance would come upon her. Her own observation of Galbar, her awareness moving through it. Then, it would be as if the physical layer of that world were peeled back and behind it were another place. A landscape of thought. An ocean of experience. Consciousness.

“The Endless Dream,” they said, and it was impossible to say which of the many Dreamers spoke the words.

Then, as if summoned, an image of that flowing tapestry of minds became visible around the depiction of her child. They seemed as if held apart from it. With an effort of will like a great storm breathing out its first torrent of rain--like a black-grey cloud unleashing branching tines of lightning in an instant--the divide vanished.

The mind of his depiction shifted from its natural silver hue to something else. It was as if an essence like the sheen on oil had been woven into its like, intermingling with it and attuning.

Then, the Dream itself shifted, and images of endless halls--endless shelves, endless knowledge from her people--would rise into her awareness as they flashed into her mind. The figure before them, the elf, held in its hands a great tome. Somehow, that weight of pages was itself a library.

“These things to your people I will give, if it pleases you.”

Lights rippled through the pallid greys of his shroud. Like lightning. Like dying stars, like newborn planets. Like flashes of thought writ upon neurons. He closed his eyes and finally the weight of his attention fell away as he awaited her decision.

Celestine heeded the guidance of the Dreaming God and resigned herself to watch as the form before her began to shift and change. She began to grow concerned when the depiction grew hazy, though her attention was drawn to the array that snapped into focus. It did not take her long to connect the dots on what such a thing represented as it pulsed with awareness and thought. Such a method of depicting the mind of her people was interesting to say the least. Celestine couldn’t help but ponder if this depiction was how the Dreamer saw every mind, or just the minds of the Virtus Elves. She pondered asking for a moment, but figured that such a question would lead to too complicated of an answer for her to understand without holding the same unique perspectives that the Dreamer did.

As the minuscule pupils focused in on her eyes they would see that they held a sort of coldness to them. The eyes of someone with a long gaze wrought of steel. As the remembrance of her time spent viewing Galbar came upon her Celestine took heed of the shifting that she was seeing. When the physical layer of Galbar was pulled back to reveal The Endless Dream Celestine’s gaze softened slightly to witness the remarkable creation of what she could only presume to be the god before her. It was clear that a lot of effort had been put into such a creation. Celestine silently hoped that one day the other gods would look upon her creations with the same sort of wonder and appreciation for a long task labored on until it was done.

As the dream and depiction of a Virtus Elf were altered, Celestine pondered what exactly had been changed about it. Did the Dreamer perhaps give her a stable island in the sea of thought? The visions of many library-like halls seemed to depict something of the sort, and the sheen that the depiction had taken on was like a sword that had been oiled. The presence of a great tome was intriguing. Would it possibly be how the library was accessed? Had their minds been shielded or connected in some way? Was this time a sort of gateway into the library that her elves could use? Or perhaps was it something that they could access any information they wanted by simply turning enough pages?

These were questions that needed answers, and thus Celestine began to ask them as the weight of the Dreaming God’s attention fell away. “These gifts please me. How might my people make use of them? Is there a particular method for accessing this library that you had planned? What is your plan for the great tome? And what of the sheen that the representation of their mind has taken on? Does it hold a particular meaning?”

With these questions asked she could do nothing else but wait for an answer.

“Yes,” replied the Dreamer, the word like a pulse that resounded deep within her chest, within the stone, through the air.

“They will be touched by my creation, that Subtle Weave which to you I have revealed,” his shroud gently dispelled the illusion of the elf, which drifted like colored mist, dispersing. Then, swirling like eddies of color, that mist converged, forming the image of a great tome once more. It was perhaps as tall as a man, and certainly wider. With a brief hum like latent electricity, the thing took on substance, shape, before finally it snapped fully into being.

Its pages were pristine white, its covers and spine filled with coiling knotwork, at the center of which stood a sword thrust through a triquetra. The symbols of the two gods brought together.

“The Akashic Gate,” thrummed the Dreamer, his eyes opening for a flash as the Gate took on truest form. He offered it to her, as if it would answer her questions. It just might.

Celestine raised an eyebrow slightly as the book was made whole. When it was offered to her she hesitated for only the briefest of moments before reaching forward to take the book. It was equally as tall as her and quite wide which made trying to manage it a little awkward. As she held it Celestine would examine the book and make note of the layered symbols of the two collaborating gods upon the cover. Giving a nod of approval, she would attempt to open the book to see if there would be anything of note on the inside.

So it was that the book was opened by her hands, its many pages revealed. At first it would seem blank, no matter how many pages she turned, but then just before her patience waned something appeared upon that canvas of white. Images and sensations gently threaded their way into her mind. It was as a Virtus’ life might be, its every experience flowing from the page and into her awareness.

There was a deep impression, ever growing, speaking of many lives--each a different elf.

“As you have felt, so too will your people,” intoned the Dreaming God, his voice a deep-toned hum.

Then, the Endless Dream, the Subtle Weave, the vast threads of the Collective Unconscious made themselves known to her once more. She would move through them, feel them, and find the experiences of those who would become her people. It felt--for a moment--like being lost in the being of another, learning them, coming to understand. The vision faded, but a deeper understanding of their experience--or at least the potential they held--had been instilled within her.

“As you have walked the dream, so too will they. From it, from their people, understanding can be gleaned, skills shared, minds melded.” His voice was itself a swirling miasma of experience, somehow more vivid in that moment than it had been in communion. The sensation passed.

The great tome began to glow, silver and golden outlines limning prismatic designs upon its pages. It drifted from her hands and stood upon its spine, pages spread to their full breadth. At first it was merely luminescent, but soon it grew to a brightness beyond bearing. Then, with a singular flash it was as if the tome became a gate, taking on the purpose of its namesake.

“Through the Gate lies an archive of their making. As you might pass into its pages to that world beyond, so too will they.” Without warning, a hand reached out and with swiftness snapped shut the gate, and once more it became a tome within his hand. He let it stand before her so that she might decide.

As Celestine experienced the sensations provided by the tome her understanding of the Collective Unconscious deepend. As she saw the experiences of the Virtus Elves flow before her she understood the magnitude of the gift that had been given. Giving a few nods to the Dreamers explanation, Celestine reached out once more to take the tome from the Dreamer, speaking as she did so. ”I understand, Dreamer. I humbly accept these gifts, and will be sure to honor your name as these contributions are used by my people. You have my deepest thanks.”

With that said, Celestine would bow her head briefly to add further weight to the thanks that she was giving.

Bowing his head in kind, giving grace where it was due, the Presence drew back. Though he faced her, his head now raised, he had begun to drift away. As he departed, he left her with these words, “To each child, give a page. The essence of the Gate will bring forth the change that you have seen.”

He turned then, that Dreaming God, and headed for an empty space where a portal had once been. He looked back only once, and though he did not speak, something passed between them and lingered in that realm between.

’Farewell.’

Then a black flash, a rolling silver storm, limned with gold, filled with many hues, and he was gone.

Celestine gave a nod at the final instructions of the Dreaming God. For now she decided to wait until the elves were to be sent to Galbar before fully immersing them in this gift. They did not need it yet. Hefting the tome gently, Celestine carried it into her realm and set it down within her personal chambers.

There it would stay until it was time for it to be put to use.

Summary

Celestine decides she needs some degree of help despite her desires, and so goes to Antiquity to post a notice on the board in the realm between. However, before anyone else might see it, the Dreaming God happens upon her and the two engage in discourse. After an enigmatic and, somewhat tense, interaction the two briefly enter Communion. Soon after, the Dreamer offers his help to Celestine.

She accepts, and he obliges, then after short explanations--and a strangely final farewell--he vanishes. Celestine departs with his gifts in hand, returning to her realm.

Might Summary

The Dreaming God

Start: 5MP, 5DP.

-2MP -- Grant Extraordinary Ability (Virtus Elves) / Akashic Memory (2MP towards Memory).
-2MP -- Grant Extraordinary Ability (Virtus Elves) / Akashic Reflection (2MP towards Reflection).
-1MP -- Consecrate Artifact (The Akashic Gate) / Subsume I (1MP towards Perception).
-1DP (Enhanced by Astral) -- Consecrate Artifact (The Akashic Gate) / Transfer I | Restore II.
-1DP (Enhanced by Tessellation) -- Consecrate Holy Site (The Akashic Records) / Compile II | Subsume I.
-3DP (Discounted from 5DP by Astral) -- Create Phenomena / Astral Bridges.

Akashic Memory: The Virtus Elves are afforded a unique communal connection to the Collective Unconscious, thus connecting their souls to it more directly. As a result, all memories, thoughts and experiences of their kind are not merely stored within the Endless Dream, but also codified and made easily accessible to their kind. While the Virtus cannot natively access this information without effort, those of them who learn Dreamwalking would find it easy to locate and navigate the constantly expanding library of their species' memories, skills, and experiences.

Akashic Reflection: The Virtus Elves may, through meditation, deep personal reflection, and/or Dreamwalking access memories held within the Akashic Records of their species. This allows members of their species to draw upon the skills and experiences held therein. With continued reflection, an individual may gain Insight into up to one major skill\*. Each major skill is worth 2 Intermediate skills\** or three minor skills\***. Skills gained through the use of the Akashic Gate or Records can be made permanent through use of this ability, but will deteriorate if not used until the individual has gone through the proper process.

Skills

*Major Skills are those that require proper mastery--and thus many years (often a decade or more) to learn--as well as being relatively complicated. Art--culinary, musical, or otherwise--engineering, smithing, and many other crafts are considered Major Skills.

**Intermediate Skills are those that require several years to learn and master. Mastery of a single weapon or martial art, public speaking, manipulation, basic farming, animal husbandry (one species of animal) or acrobatics are considered Intermediate Skills. A skill that would typically be considered "major" can be learned at a reduced proficiency as an Intermediate Skill.

***Minor Skills are those that require a year or less to gain proficiency with, they are generally uncomplicated. Simple mending, memorization, reading, writing, and other skills of similar simplicity qualify as Minor Skills. A skill that would typically be considered "Intermediate" can be learned at a reduced proficiency as a minor skill.

---

The Akashic Gate: Taking the form of a massive and incredibly heavy tome, the Akashic Gate is a book of endless pages. It is linked to the Collective Unconscious and the Akashic Records specifically, serving as the only way to reach the astral library. Anyone using it can search through it to find specific skills, memories, and experiences of the Virtus Elves. Once found, the Gate can commune with the mind of the reader allowing the information to become a natural part of their mind. However, any information gained this way will slowly decay unless regularly used. It should be noted that though it can be physically handled--and is considerably heavy--the Akashic Gate is effectively a divine Willcasting. As a direct result of this, should the book be destroyed, it will eventually reform, willed back into existence by the Dreaming God himself.

The Akashic Records: A holy site existing solely within the Endless Dream, the Akashic Records can currently only be entered through the Akashic Gate. Their appearance varies somewhat between individuals, but always seems to include an endlessly growing set of shelves composed of an indeterminate lustrous material. It is ghostly and ethereal in appearance, with shimmering, prismatic books--with silver or gold lettering--constantly forming or growing larger on the shelves. The limits of the place cannot be seen and after a certain distance everything is obscured by a faint silver and golden light. Several feet from the entrance there stands a pedestal of pearlescent marble, writ with glowing silver glyphs. Those placing a hand onto the pedestal can more easily locate information within the library, by bidding it to rearrange to suit them. Furthermore, one can summon specific volumes of memory/experience and organize it to suit them prior to subsuming any quantity of its contents. Any hostile intent--or otherwise attempt to damage the library--will cause the individual to be expelled from the library.

Subsume I: This title allows anyone touching--or within--the source of its effect to perceive, adopt, and understand experiences held within the Akashic Records. Memories and the like are fully experienced by the individual accessing them--though not in real time as the experiences are “accelerated”. The person within the simulated experience during the process will not realize that their learning/taking on of the memories are accelerated. This is realized only afterwards when it is clear that little time has passed.

Compile II: This title gives the Akashic Records the ability to gather memories and experiences from the Endless Dream and then sort, reorganize, or otherwise process the information in a timely and interactive manner. Further, due to its rank, Compile allows individuals who enter the library to manipulate its organization of memories and experiences so as to best locate and experience the information held therein.

Restore II: When bestowed upon a consecrated, this title allows the aforementioned to reform even if destroyed. At this rank its reformation is not instantaneous, though it does render any damage that does not completely destroy the consecrated largely pointless as such will return to its original state fairly quickly (in no more than three days' time). Should the consecrated be entirely destroyed it will be fully restored no more than thirty days. The more people who contribute their will to the effort of restoring the artifact, the faster it will reform, though it will never do so faster than twelve days. For every nine people focusing their will, three days are cut from its restoration time.

Transfer I: This is a simple title that, upon activation via the Akashic Gate, allows individuals to physically enter the Akashic Library by unknowingly crossing an Astral Bridge. This bridge is not stable, despite appearances, and dissipates as soon as individuals have crossed from the Gate to the Library of vice versa. However, due to the enduring Will of the Dreaming God, the bridge will always open when bidden by either the Gate or the Library.

Astral Bridges: A natural result of the Endless Dream and Galbar intermingling for decades, an Astral Bridge may form in response to an incredibly powerful Willcasting, allowing an individual to physically pass from Galbar and into the Endless Dream. These bridges are almost universally unstable and as such will close behind the individual, requiring a new bridge be opened so that one might return to Galbarian soil.

*Creation of one of these temporary Bridges is an action costing 3 Prestige.

End: 0 MP, 0 DP.
5/5 Memory Portfolio.
5/5 Reflection Portfolio.
4/5 Perception Portfolio.

Celestine

No might spent.