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 Shiksita The last vestiges of the turmoils that the Third Age brought have scarred over and mortals have mostly forgotten them. With peace, came prosperity and progress. Now, magic and technology have brought great advances, and one stands tall above the others: now vessels can be made that could feasibly cross the oceans, and the possibilities boggle the mind. At the two extremes of the Fire Trail, the Hegemons of Baathelora and the Revered Makers of Jiysal rejoice at the possibility of spreading their Blessed and Superior Ways to the Uncouth Masses that doubtlessly await overseas. The Ruby Caravan is abuzz with whispers of profit and new trade routes. The coasts bustle with activity, new harbors and ports sprouting up and prayers to the Mother of Oceans filling the air, so that she may bless their enterprises with favourable corrents. Even some sects of the Roving Covens are consulting the stars, planning for more expansive migration routes that should let them roam the seas and the lands without depleting resources. And of course, the Painkeepers are quick to seize new opportunities to share their patron's burden with new unknowing sacrifices. All is well, but there are rumors of weird small vessels being sighted on the horizon, moving without sails. Sailor's hogwash, certainly- but weirdly persistent at that. The Shattered Archipelago It has finally happened. The Third and Seventh Seeker-Fleets have reported sightings of large landmasses. Finally, proof that the Landgiver didn't just speckle the oceans with atolls and small islands. Prayers to the Waylighter fill the air, for it was the knowledge that she wove into the stars that led to the discovery. And what a discovery it is! Not one, but two separate masses! The Archipelago bustles with activity, the Taker-Fleets are assembled. Apparently, the islands are inhabited. By a race of giants, if the size of the sighted ships is an indication. No matter. The Navigators will take their due. OOC: Everybody wants to colonialize each other! How do you react?
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Mar 24, 2019 22:10
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 Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial There is a glade, born of stars. Little cold ones that shimmer, brighter ones that flicker. They form trees, and birds that sing, and bushes that rustle in the chime-wind. Through it flows a babbling brook of starwine, the sweetest thing in all the Celestial. The tears of fond memories, reunited lovers, spiced with the light of sunset. And in this place, in a hammock not far from the Celestial Palace, is Maladine. She reclines, and lets out a long sigh. It is the last year of her century-long vacation, mandated by Luna by threat of withheld kisses and a few stern glares when she protested. Maladine dips her finger in the cool stream, sighs. The chime-wind feels so good across her face, and now that her vacation comes to a close she dreads work. Emoch would go back to insulting her. She'd have to defend Kem, and no doubt Forex had caused at least one mass starvation while she was napping. And poor Jormy, poor Jormy. Maladine can only hope she held up on her own. Her fingers rise again. The wine seeps into them, and all the tension in her arm dissolves. She listens to prayers to her dozens of aspects, to catch up on mortal business. What had those innovative little things got- Oh. This is not good. Forex taught mortals to consume and consume and consume, and the second they saw new horizons to gobble up their bellies rumbled. There would be war, there would be colonialism, Forex's term for the whole dreadful endeavor of stomping other cultures to steal what was theirs. In the end, the only one whose belly might really fill is Kem's. She must do something before things get out of control. And so as the last year of her vacation wiled away, she planned new constellations. New spells to teach them to help the disadvantaged stand a chance, new magic to heal, and prophecies. Her own educated guesses mixed with moral guidance. Wise mortals who followed her knew how to watch the stars and read her messages in them. She only hopes it's enough to head off some of the damage her brother would do. --- OOC: Maladine uses Gift, Witchcraft and Celestial to give guidance and knowledge to mortal kind to help prepare them for the coming violence.
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Mar 24, 2019 23:06
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 Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper A clangorous gong echoed in the unimaginably vast chambers of the Vaults as Emoch hammered away at his current project at the Forgeheart. He lifted the piece of metal up to his face to inspect it for any imperfection, his face and his thoughts on the matter hidden beneath his helm. He stood like this for a whole minute, silent, until finally throwing the piece over his shoulder into a pile of similarly discarded items of various designs deemed unworthy and to be later smelted. Now, certainly none of the artifacts were bad, or even of poor quality. Indeed, any of of them would have been precious enough for mortal nations to wage war over, or something that lesser spirits and gods would've been overjoyed to have in their arsenal. But none of them lived up to the perfection that Emoch expected from his work. Only the best was good enough for Emoch. And he expected the same from Mortals, though to his eternal chagrin they oft refused his way for easy hedonism and worthless sophistry. It was because of this that Emoch was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the Mortal clay was maneuvering to hone itself in the forge that was War. War meant Industry. War meant Innovation. War meant the sort of grim determination that drove mortal souls to his clutches. War meant that only the best mortals would remain. To Emoch, War was good. To Emoch, War was a preferable state of things. Thus did Emoch walk out of the Vaults and stalk the Underworld, and go deep, deeper still, until he stood below the tectonic plates themselves. One hand he places upon the coasts that the Taker-Fleets were eyeing, one under the unclaimed wilds the established Powers of Shiksita were interested in. And then he heaved, forcing that which was previously hidden to the surface. It was an incentive for the mortals to hurry. It was a reminder to the mortals who their prosperity and wealth truly came from. It was a promise of greatness and riches to those that could claim, and a promise of horrible vengeance to those that would forget to give him his proper adulation after the fact. Yes, the treasures of the earth were the Anvil to the Hammer that was greed, and mortals were stuck in the middle. One day, Emoch would hammer the mortals to shape. This was but the beginning. Emoch walked back to the Vaults, took another piece of brass to the Forgeheart, and started his work anew. This time he would succeed, for certain. ___ OOC: Using CREATE and Chthonic Earth to raise up mountains rich in Gems, Gold and other Precious Things in the coasts and areas the Great Powers are eyeing for Colonization to spur them to action. Theantero fucked around with this message at 12:51 on Mar 25, 2019 |
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Mar 25, 2019 12:33
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 Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes The god paced before his grand hearth, excited and lost in racing thoughts as the recent developments promised to upturn half of the existing business strategies. She really did it! Tripled the fuel efficiency by employing multihull design! Empowered the mighty steam turbines with a recursive heating loop to enable reliable crossing of the ocean with just twice the usual store of firewood. Not that the lateen sails of Jiysal fared much worse, yet the breakthrough design came as a surprise even to Forex, who had been watching it closely through the entire development. And, lest we forget, that one was entirely mortal-made, with no... friendly suggestions necessary. And what a new world could it open! One of unparalled mobility, of freight tonnages in new orders of magnitude, of all the peoples of the globe able to reach each other and share in their knowledge as if they lived in one, enormous village. A new, golden era in which all shall be connected by glistening streams of silver. The one question that remained, will could mean would? Won't this grandest of opportunities - one that could truly herald a new, better age - be foiled by incessant meddling of others? The islanders, so close to a splendid design, yet... a diamond in the rough. Their industrious drive to prosperity marred by excessive violence, so hard to peel away with the drat snake so present in their lives. And the mighty empires of Shiksita... surely more manageable, already conditioned into business sense, yet... a force majeure risk, as the grumpy whims of Emoch turn into action so easily within their confines. Yes, yes, the precipice of a new age cannot be left to those who fail to understand it in full. But how could one god impose his will against the whole world? Perhaps... he lets them believe they are furthering their own goal, advancing their own plans? Yes, while others are swept with majestic gestures, I shall slip right underneath their noses. A handful of dreams of green and gold, a ship marooned on the shore bearing incredible tales, a wanderer bearing words of cautious wisdom, an admiral's doubt. For isn't it foolishness to swing your sword at the darkness of night? To pit a crew weary with months of travel againt entire continent of unkown size and power? Even a child would see it for a blunder of greed. No, a wise man would bide their time. Entreat for hospitality and exchange gifts. An exchange them again and again, eyeing the cities, the ports, the garrisons each time, until he maps entire nations out, until he is able to strike with clarity and purpose. But what they won't know is that I won't let that moment to come. That they shall all grow dependend once intertwined. That no one raid would be worth the grassilks for their nets and ores for their tools too deep within hinterlands for a catamaran's hungry reach. That no one island would be worth the irate archipelago stemming the tides of delicate pink salts. That they shall forget. That they shall learn reneging on the agreement their wiles have set would anger the fires that burn. And who could possibly say no to such a favorable exchange? One of the two lands differing so starkly in their supplies and demand? If all it took would be to spare a handful of coppers for a weary caravan hand that claims to have met those strange foreigners before in their long journeys to far-away lands? For if I cannot entrust the responsibility in other gods, how could I expect the short-lived to fully grasp the importance of this moment and know and translate just the wrong number? --- OOC: Trying to INSPIRE COMMERCE to trick the warlike into the Genghis Khan recon by trade idea and hope for the best. Would try to also get MONEY involved to use the initial uncertainty of currencies relative worth to set up Shockingly Good Starter Deals while whispering about needing to ensure sustainability of this plan to stave off total mahattan-for-beads-style hustle. Lichtenstein fucked around with this message at 15:18 on Mar 25, 2019 |
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Mar 25, 2019 14:18
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 Kemgöz, The Unending Curse of Sin It just won't END. How many Aeons have passed since this unspeakable, miserable, wracking PAIN has been contaminating my very existence. These VILE mortals, those USELESS FLESHLINGS haven't... They haven't provided enough soothing for me! Yet something catches my eyes. My quadrillion eyes, always open, always unblinking, always tearful, they notice the petty 'discovery' that some mortal groups have made, and indeed, these can be useful. The local wildlife... Parasitic wasps. Blood-sucking leeches. Hungry mosquitos. They have the cruelty that nature itself provides them in order to survive, but perhaps some more could be added... The others seem to be wanting to make this place into somewhere that Greed can thrive, but perhaps a price for this greed could be extracted by these creatures. After all, the siren call of the Smith's and the Merchant's efforts will be sure to satisfy my own needs. With a spasm, one of my writhing tendrils send a small seed towards the landmass. It spreads through the underground, slowly but surely bringing my gift towards these poor creatures that will be displaced by these colonists. Perhaps they can start to bring their reproducing and feeding habits towards... Larger prey. The wasps grow in size tenfold, their stingers now a cluster of injecting spikes that put hundreds of hungry larvae within their prey. The Leeches bloat and multiply further, their bites bringing a painful paralytic venom that lets them feed in peace. The Mosquitos now carry thousands of new viral strains on their bodies, diseases that do nothing to themselves yet are a terrible scourge to any other creature they infect. I will PAIN TRANSFORM the local wildlife into hellish monsters!
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Mar 25, 2019 15:38
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 Jormgir, the Serpent Ships sail to and fro on Jormgir's waters, this is nothing new. Across the currents, to nearby islands, even the rare brave few who set themselves at the mercy of her currents to travel farther, searching for the edge of the world. She lies across the deep oceans, rubbing steam vents against itches in her scales, and half-observes the world above. It's... 'endearing' would be too strong a word, but it doesn't immediately provoke anger, which is almost as good. They will have their little adventures, their little wars, and every so often one of them will anger her enough to get her to sit up and have a snack. That's just how these things go. Even when there are a few more ships than usual, and they're moving a little faster, Jormgir thinks nothing of it. Forex is having a little party, or Emoch invented a new kind of sail. It will soon settle back into the comforting white noise of the ocean. The sensation that comes next is... it's not unlike what a mortal would feel if they realized that the rain against their windows had turned into hail. Thundering, hammering hail that rattles the sill and spoils her nap. On the timescale of a goddess, the change happened almost instantaneously. She breathed in, and wooden ships were navigating her currents and paying homage. Now, she breathes out, and she feels fire and metal floating across the waves. Sorcery! There are so many, they move so quickly, and they belch soot and ash into her waters. What is this? Ready to strike down everyone and everything she sees, Jormgir rises from the depths, and observes. She does not like what she sees. Journeys that would take a season and a hundred experienced sailors can now be traveled in a fortnight by one clever human and a half-dozen slaves. Very suddenly, the world is becoming much smaller, and thus, much more by the gods of Earth and Fire. Something must be done. For the briefest of moments, she considers declaring these floating bonfires blasphemy, chewing up and swallowing each and every one that she sees or smells. Who would support her? Not Emoch, not Maladine, and certainly not Forex. Only Kemgöz would approve, and that, above all else, is what makes the Serpent reconsider. There is another way. There must be another way. So much of the ocean is changing, but Jormgir is not diminished. Prayers are still being said to her, sailors still recognize that it is by her mercy that the currents do not dash them against the rocks. Fire and technology may have "uplifted" mortals from nomadic tribes into great cities, human nature does not change. Gears turning in her head, Jormgir turns one great eye down at the waves. Carefully, she pieces through their movements like she is watching a well-known play performed as fast as the actors can move across the stage. ...yes! Just as she suspected. An inevitability of the sea trade. Pirates. Oh, little blasphemers. They would make such excellent morsels. But no, there is more important work that could be done with them. She comes to them in nightmares. Glowing eyes beneath the waves. Towering shape crushing their ships into scrap and splinters. Rows of craggy fangs that stretch across the horizons. Night after night, she visits every brigand and cutthroat she can find on her waves, leaving them dripping in sweat and clutching their chests. The dream can take many forms, but the truth of it is always the same. The Mother of Oceans knows what you are, and She does not approve. Then, once she knows they are listening, that is when she sends the second dream. Just as the ship begins to sink beneath the waves, the pirate flag at the mast is lowered. In its place is raised a new one, one that depicts the Serpent crushing the skull-and-crossbones in her jaws. Bearing this new standard, the ship rises anew, whole again, glorious and triumphant. Blessed by the Retributive herself. They know what they have done wrong, and now, they will know what they can do to make it right again. Inspire the Remorse of those who lived by the sword on The Seas. Let's see if we can't convince some cutthroat brigands to become lovable rogues. girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 04:30 on Mar 26, 2019 |
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Mar 26, 2019 04:03
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Shiksita- Unsettled lands Turns out that a new mountain range appearing overnight will draw the curious and the adventurous even before they realize it's full of gold. A prized metal, being an indispensable catalyst for the Living Flame that powers the steam engines that are the beating hearts of the Navigators' fleets, a mere bagful of tokens enough to keep a ship running for a season. Also, it's generally shiny and nice to look at, so there's that. Besides, the mountains appeared into unclaimed lands, and the stars promised great ruin to thieves and conflict-starters in this age, so the course of action is clear: get there first, and let the vengeance of the Celestial fall upon those who try to take your prize! And so, the Burearchs of Baathelora work tirelessly to draft Letters of Conduct for aspirant Approved Extractor-Certificants, while the newly-anointed Gold Fleet takes sail from the Seven Sisters. They are in for an unpleasant surprise, as Kemgöz's gift to the local insect fauna has taken deep roots, and so the torches blaze in constant battle against the skittering and slithering menace. The Sea Routes Merchants, more than soldiers, sail the seas. Forex and Maladine's conjunct warnings having made sure of that. Everyone is looking for a OOC: People are trying to play nice! How wholesome! Granted, they still are kinda greedy, and the whole situation feels unstable...
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Mar 26, 2019 20:49
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial Maladine sighs. It wasn't what she wanted, not quite. Too precarious. Ugh, Forex would know how to deal with it but brother would no doubt put his own terrible spin on th- No. Maladine is not starting her work millennium like this. It'll just get her wound up all at once. There was time yet, a few years to get back into the swing of things and spend a little bit of time with a cherished someone. Someone who needed her help, who made her smile and laugh with almost every interaction. And so she falls, a constellation of shooting stars in the Celestial, towards Wax, towards her body. As she falls it weaves itself from the Celestial, like thread from a skein. The wide-brimmed hat, the gold of virtue and the black of the long vigil. Sigils. Her goldfingers that wove the Celestial when she was among the physical. And so, the stars shimmer above a familiar place - the Stormheart Archipelago, where the sea is so calm it looks as if a mirror of the night. Maladine appears above the water and the wreckage as if she was always there. Stars gather at her shoulders, forming her two loyal messengers - the Celestial Guardians. They take their places, sniffling in the cool night air. "Ohhh Raindrop!" Maladine says in sing-song, her hat bobbing back and forth. "How's my favorite sea-serpent?"
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Mar 26, 2019 21:51
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Jormgir, the Serpent That worked... unexpectedly well. It's a position where a lot can go wrong, but that's true of all mortal matters. There's nothing else to punish for the moment, so Jormgir is just about ready to lie back down for another nap when a voice above the water calls for her. Not by name, either, by a telltale title. Only one being is so irreverent with her. So casual. So... friendly. Maladine has returned from her sabbatical. Dramatic on instinct, Jormgir rises from the still ocean, great cascades of water falling around her and churning through the field of wreckage that marks her favorite place to sleep. She stretches, coils and uncoils, as much to get some kinks out of her back as for the aesthetic, and sets herself to the task of once again figuring out how to handle the company of a goddess who used to regularly try to slay her. "Maladine." Jormgir's mannerisms may have softened, but she is still in the body of the world-devourer. Her voice is whipping winds, crashing waves, breaking ships, and peals of thunder. "You've returned early."
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Mar 27, 2019 21:41
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial She giggles at the sounds of Jormgir dramatically coiling and uncoiling. Even with a blind goddess she needs the pageantry, so Maladine tries to look suitably impressed. (And likely fails) "I missed you too, Raindrop." Maladine says with a playful grin. "Is that a fresh molt I smell?" Her voice is rich, deep and sweet like clotted cream. One of the last vestiges of the old days. She thinks of how soft those scales must feel. The guardians form a hammock of stars for her, and Maladine stretches lazily in it. Outside the Celestial itself, the Stormheart Archipelago was the only place she felt she could relax a bit. "How have things been for you in my absence? I was worried about you."
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Mar 27, 2019 21:53
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Jormgir, the Serpent "The trick with the stars worked. My molt went completely uninterrupted." Through subtle currents and a quirk of star-navigation, a combined work of Jormgir and Maladine, the Stormheart Archipelago is now all but impossible for a mortal to sail to without being invited. Instead, they would slip around it, from one side to the other, none the wiser. It keeps her home safe. Or it did, before these new fire-ships that could sail against the winds. There may be more wreckage added to her collection soon, at this rate. How casual or proper should Jormgir be? She still doesn't have the slightest idea. Maladine continues to speak to her as though she is one of her heaven-wives, and her words are kind, but the back and forth of their voices still carry the cadences of the continent-shattering battles they had in the beforetime. It's difficult to not remember the times when they were enemies. A part of her still feels like that would be easier. At least then, she would know how to act. "The mortals have a new toy. A gift from Forex, I suspect."
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Mar 27, 2019 22:14
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial Maladine remembers their history too. Sometimes when Jormgir speaks, dread fills her bones, makes her ache down to her deific soul with raw fear. She brushes away those moments, Jormgir has enough on her plate. She doesn't need guilt from Maladine too, and she has to admit she enjoys Jormgir's sense of humor, the way kind words sound in a peal of thunder, the smell of brine and the sense of the ancient she brings with her. Sometimes, their long history is almost a blessing. There is so much between them they don't have to say. "I saw, I don't like it either. It's giving the mortals terrible ideas. They see all the world laid before them like a feast, and think nothing of what it might cost." She turns in the hammock to face Jorm, props up her head with a hand. "But who I worry for most are the little ones. Their worship is built around small ecosystems, ways of life that might get trampled in the rush." A guardian rises into the sky to grab a glass of starwine for Maladine. She takes it with thanks, and sips slowly. "Oh, this is such a mess. And the more I think about it the worse it gets. If we all start tugging on the skein of life at once something's bound to come loose, maybe something that shouldn't." A longer drink. "Or stars forbid, there might be war among the gods." She sighs, and swirls the glass to listen to the sound of the wine bubbling. "I'm sorry, the first thing I bring you back from vacation isn't some nice earring or a pretty song, but more worry when your plate is already stacked high with them." The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 22:33 on Mar 27, 2019 |
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Mar 27, 2019 22:28
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Jormgir, the Serpent "Don't apologize." It's a surprisingly-stern cutoff, almost uncharacteristically so. Jormgir has picked up many strange habits from Irri, and they sometimes intersect in ways that surprise even her. "There are many at fault here, but you are not one of them." Turning, the Serpent casts her gaze out through the fog at what the humans are doing, and how the other gods have reacted to it. Humans taking their gifts from the world and then selling them to each other. Not new, but disheartening all the same. Monsters, vicious and poisonous. Kem's doing, clearly. And... "A mountain full of treasure?" All the pomp falls right out of Jormgir's voice. "Really, Emoch?"
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Mar 27, 2019 22:36
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial Maladine giggles again. "As subtle as a mudbrick ziggurat to the face." A snort gets out of her before she can stop it. "You know he actually did that once, built an entire religion around denouncing me. They had a very nice ziggurat." An eyeroll. "Really, he's more of a headache than Sister." Kem, the memory chills both of them. Maladine sighs. There are so many reminders of her failures, and Dearest Sister was always the one that hurt the most. She looked up to Maladine, relied on Maladine to keep her safe and yet and yet... No. No crying. Not already. Not around Jorm. She finishes the glass, and a guardian dissolves the stars that hold it together. They float back to the Celestial. "What would you say to a Moot? I don't know of any of us can tackle this on our own, and we're leaving the voices that need help out. I have ideas about getting everyone there."
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Mar 27, 2019 22:49
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Jormgir, the Serpent "I would say..." Agreeing isn't difficult. Forex is often almost reasonable when the subject is their shared domain of sea trade. Emoch will be... less horrendous towards the woman that freed his wife than he would be without Jormgir's presence. "I will do my best to convince the Smith. He'll be less likely to immediately dismiss me out of spite." And Kemgoz... well, there's the difficulty. Who would say what about her presence? Or her absence? And would she even accept? "...and your sister. She may listen to a fellow Destroyer, if only for a moment." girl dick energy fucked around with this message at 23:14 on Mar 27, 2019 |
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Mar 27, 2019 23:08
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial "Oh we don't need to convince Emoch of anything. We need Forex. If Forex comes, Emoch will learn, and Emoch will follow and barge in demanding to be seated. We will smile warmly and offer him a seat. He will think he has scored a great victory, and perhaps even be less annoying than usual. I can handle Brother." She says with no small amount of pride, and then Dearest Sister is mentioned. "Yes...yes, I believe that might be prudent." She bites her lip. She never felt comfortable about putting Jormgir around Kem, not because she was worried Jormgir would backslide but because she worried for Dear Sister. Jorm had her feelings about her, and more than once she had to stop the serpent from coming down on Kem. "But you have to promise me, if things get violent you won't kill her. I will heal Sister one day, I know it." The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 23:42 on Mar 27, 2019 |
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Mar 27, 2019 23:20
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Jormgir, the Serpent "That is an eminently reasonable method for dealing with an eminently unreasonable god." Getting Forex to agree, letting Emoch follow and think it his own victory. A tactic that seems obvious in retrospect, but that is Maladine's gift. One of them at least. "I have no intention of attempting to kill Kem." Jormgir doesn't sound offended at the implication that she would try, more melancholy. It would be in character for Jormguar. Her legacy hasn't stopped pursuing her just yet. "While you were gone, I learned to point my self-loathing where it belongs." A dark, self-effacing joke. Probably. Her tone makes it hard to tell. "We should get started. Give Forex my regards, and tell him the Serpent's Flag are on his side as long as he's on theirs. He'll understand what it means." Jormgir rises further out of the waves, beginning the careful process of disentangling herself from her nest. She intends to depart before Mal can corner her. "Oh, and Maladine? Welcome back. It's... nice. To see you again."
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Mar 27, 2019 23:41
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Kemgöz, The Unending Curse of Sin Why... Why is there not enough tribute. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY. They are not tributing enough, they are not suffering enough they are not squirming around. This HURT doesn't stop. They are not helping me. There are... There are others interfering. They make the lives of the small ones too comfortable, and they can't give their tribute their way. Why do they want to hurt me like this...? Two of my tendrils lash and destroy another part of this ruined temple. How much I broke already surpasses what it had before, I can't even remember what was before. And who are these things who want to hurt me. I cry for a week before finding a resolution. Perhaps some sort of privation might induce these things to give me their misery. I... I won't let anyone else stop me this time. I can't even remember their names. The Smith, The Merchant, they are helping, but the Serpent and... Who is that? I don't know, but I want that away. My breath crosses the aether, surrounding the island. It ignores the living creatures, but it makes its way inside those little ships. Their holds, full of food and water from their homelands are immediately despoiled, as the force of my contempt rots them in a manner of seconds. Destroy + Curse to start rotting the food and water supplies on the ships that arrive at Shiksita
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Mar 27, 2019 23:52
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Jormgir, the Serpent Jormgir feels something stir, though she cannot say what, and departs before Maladine has a chance to respond. She must confront Kemgoz before she irrevocably angers one of the other gods. Even if this is a fool's errand, she will make the best attempt she can. The journey is both long and nearly instantaneous, just another part of being a world-circling serpent with a lifespan measured in Ages. She arrives at the temple, but does not enter. Invitation as a guest is unlikely, and entering as a trespasser is... Unwise. Instead, she borrows a mortal trick, and throws metaphorical pebbles at the window. "Kemgoz! Unending Sin! Curse of the Ages! The Inner Dark! Fallen Star! Whatever name you would answer to, I use it! I am Jormgir the Devourer, and I seek audience!"
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Mar 28, 2019 00:04
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Kemgöz, The Unending Curse of Sin What noise is this, it... It pierces my ears. I have a hundred thousand of my eyes to look at the direction of this disturbance, shining from within the darkness. "SERPENT." My voice, a cacophonic gibbering of millions of mouths, crosses the aether towards the interloper. "You come to end me or to help me?! If you can't do either, there is nothing in the universe that will stop me from tearing you apart.."
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Mar 28, 2019 00:18
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Jormgir, the Serpent Help her or to end her, either would be acceptable. This poor goddess. How far she's fallen and how little she deserves it. "I come to inform you! Your sister plans a Moot, a meeting on neutral ground to discuss the fate of these humans and their new ambitions." Was mentioning Maladine the right choice? "I have been invited, and thus I insisted you be so as well. Though I- though you have fallen far, you are still a goddess. Your voice deserves to be heard."
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Mar 28, 2019 00:42
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial "Jormgir you sh-" And she's gone. Suddenly this place seems so cold and ugly. She sighs. Hurting Jorm always left her with an awful feeling in her gut. A little tear worms it's way out before she can stop it. Maladine leans down to talk to a guardian. It listens raptly and scrawls a message on star-born parchment. When it's finished it dashes under the waves after Jorm. She takes a moment to clear her mind, Forex was canny and at this point she did not need the whole world to know how she felt about Jorm. The way she shivered when she thought of touching those scales, how sometimes instead of dread Jorm's voice made her wonder how it would feel to kiss her. It was absurd, they spent aeons trying to kill one another, and yet...Maladine sighs. Her heart is a heedless hunter. A breath. She focuses on the babbling brook, the songs Luna sings her when she's stressed. The stress melts, and Maladine raises her goldfingers. The threads of her body dissolve, and slither back into the night sky. On the other side of the world there is a small country manor. To the ignorant eye it might look humble, workmanlike. A wise eye would see the stones are held together without mortar - only their expert cuts hold them together. And the windows, windows! They're clear and bright. The finest glass in all the world. The threads of Maladine rush from the sky, and weave her together again on the manor's front step. She adjusts her hat, and then knocks. "Brother!" She says in her most friendly voice. "I'm back from my vacation! May I come in?" If she's lucky, she caught him having breakfast. He was always most pliable at breakfast. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 01:10 on Mar 28, 2019 |
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Mar 28, 2019 00:52
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes Forex stood up from the table, stirred by a pleasant surprise. It had seemed like the god's favorite customer was in need yet again, probably out to beg and agree for the sake of whichever little village she deemed of utmost importance to preserve. With a flick of his hand, he scorched the few remains of the morning shakshouka that still had clung to his fiery beard and approached to open the doors. He liked the tactility of it, having to touch the stones and woods and wools, all crafted precisely to his demanding specifications. "Maladine!", he shouted jovially, "What a joy it is to see you again! I see that the developments of those exceptional mortals have even managed to stir the stars from their long slumber! And for a good reason - bear my words, we are witnessing the glimpse of a new age! But- were my manners consumed by excitement? Do come inside!" He ushered her in and with a light touch, helped her cross the high threshold - for while he might have never let the words betray it, Forex was painfully aware of the limits of his sister's blindsight. He regaled her with tales of the latest developments - even though she has not had the chance to ask for it - while leading to the recliner in front of the eternally burning fireplace. "... and if you wish to smoke, I have the finest Zerrikanian blends known to a man - or god. But back to the matters at hand - we truly stand at the precipice of greatness this world had not seen before. And I must admit some trepidation at the developments taking place when you were gone, leaving the more... chaotic forces free to act, but it seems that the promise of a future shall not be betrayed. Jormgir has seen the pleasure of maintaining the sea routes regular and orderly, like mortal little clockworks, while our usual troublemakers have sought it fit to constrain themselves to a humble strip of land." "There are no other words for it, my sister - the business is booming! And soon it shall bring a glory the likes of which our children had never seen! Given enough time, their mighty ships shall take to the skies, their words shall go forth and multiply, crossing the world as quick as it takes to anger Emoch. The wounds of the second age have finally been sealed. Now the time has come to push the healthy tissue of Wax to new heights!"
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Mar 28, 2019 01:55
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Kemgöz, The Unending Curse of Sin Sister? Who... Whose sister is this snake talking about? If I had a sister, she would have come and solved this unbearable... My baleful gaze makes dust rise up around the snake, dark energy rising around it. I will destroy even the core of this impudent thing that came to waste my time, talking about... No... Perhaps... Perhaps this Moot may find a way to end this miserable situation. "I... Shall think about it. You must leave now." My voices again echo through the dark.
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Mar 28, 2019 02:00
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial Bright mood, excellent. She follows him into the living room, still managing to bump her leg on an end table. Another rafter almost claims her hat before a Celestial Guardian rights it. She loved the fire, the smell of cherry logs and fresh cooking, but this place is stained with the sound of a thousand arguments. They echo in her ears as she sits down across from him. His warmth could be a mere facade, with Forex there was nothing above manipulation. Sometimes she wondered if he was truly capable of love for her or Little Sister. Such thoughts were not worthy of a deity such as herself, and she brushes them off. She laughs at his stories, produces properly impressed facial expressions, and takes proffered tea. Honey and barley, nice and warm. "Oh no, no ghostgrass today but thank you for the thought, Dear Brother." She says with a smile. Another story or two, a cup of tea. She tells him about the work Luna had done on the chime-wind, the new wedding earring she made for them - pearl and platinum, studded with bright diamonds. The various happenings in the Outer Celestial, and the work of her various wives. "Kylis is still convinced she has to watch the outside for all eternity. I wish she'd come home more often, she burdens herself so much with our safety and it hurts in my soul." And his favorite word comes up again. "And all those opportunities are why I'm here Dearest Brother. For in your own words 'Opportunity plus haste equals waste'." So many rules about business, none about how you should treat your loved ones, the needy, how to be kind. She loves the opportunity to turn them against him. "As indeed, this time might produce great wealth but if we all work at cross purposes I'm afraid none might gain." She waits to gauge his reaction before continuing. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 02:59 on Mar 28, 2019 |
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Mar 28, 2019 02:36
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes "Isn't that always true of our family?", Forex laughs. "I am most painfully aware of how this stupendous achievement could be squandered on petty squabbles of others." "But let me offer you an ember of hope in that I have kept vigil over the matter and it has paid dividends. For has a single pair of swords been crossed? No. The great drake of the seas had seen through her righteous fury and noticed the future blooming above her head - in fact, I might have to offer her my regards once agreeable terms arise to solidify this venture. And Emoch and Kem - are lost in their own obsessions, confined to an empty strip of land. And in fact, busy solving the very problem they could have incited therein. For whomever might have sought to race for the right to plant their flag has long been forced to reconsider. The years-long struggle those two ensured for the settlers will enshrine every yard taken from the wilderness with great deeds and names, sanctify each house with generations of stewards - until not a single fool could see their claims as unjust. Perhaps, should their positions get strained enough, the disparate settlements shall learn. By which point harm no longer would come from easing their way to the hinterlands." "And, of course, there is always you, whom I trust not to wish to stain this world with any more harm." "Ah! But you have to see this!", Forex exclaims with that same jovial joy with which he has greeted her, long before Maladine had time to fully ponder implications of his words. He procured a roll of glistening cloths and put it in her hands, helping her fingers trace the intricate islander patterns singing the histories of seas crossed and strangers met. "The finest grassilks of the north weaved by the hands learned in the secrets of the archipelago! Has this world seen anything like that before?" "There is so much we take for granted, Maladine, but there is no reason the mortals need be confined by the expanse of the world. For it is the others that truly enable us to become greater than we were - and with this, all that is happening, they finally are able to have a shard of vision, of the horizons that we enjoy."
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Mar 28, 2019 03:25
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial "I believe not, it's equal to the finery of the Celestial itself. Almost to my very vestments." She nods, her smile grows with each sentence. It's hard not to get caught up in his infectious charisma, even for her. "You're right brother, it is a great chance for their perspectives to grow and for them to understand their world better. But...prudence demands I call for a Moot. It's clear to see a new Age is upon us with all these changes, we must gather - little ones and great ones alike - and plan for this new, interconnected world. The very speed with which they are learning to move could be our undoing if we assume the quiet dogmas of the Third Age apply now." Her fingers trace the patterns in the grassilk. She waits three beats. "I assume, dear brother, you have concerns?"
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Mar 28, 2019 03:48
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes "Yes." "It is a noble design - and seemingly a simple answer to our woes. A grand forum of intentions and ideas - you know it to be a draw we would find hard to resist. Yet have you wondered why I refrained from hosting such event on my own?" Forex lets go of Maladine's palms and walks up to the fireplace, on top of which awaited a box of ghostgrass cigarillos - his vice of choice ever since that old commandment about liquour enshrouding one's wits with thick, dark smokes. The end of a roll sparks with bright red the instant it reaches god's hand. "Things are going well so far, Maladine. It's a precarious balance, yes, one necessitating vigilance and an occasional gentle push, but... it is this moot that could bring oblivion to this delicate balance, strip it of blessings that allow it to be. For not all would come with a wish to align, but with one to exploit intentions laid bare. The great smith and that which once was our sister have chosen to contain themselved in a shared delusion, leaving peoples of the world free of the corrupting touch. And were we to speak plainly, we'd discard this small mercy we have been granted. For you know Emoch knows few pleasures greater than disagreeing - and the other, eternally ravening for a sign of weakness to pounce at." He sits back in the recliner, weighing words and staring with sorrow - as Forex knew the doom his sister was about to unfold with her misguided drive yet again. "I can only hope for wisdom to reach you before it's too late: if you do not wish to cast Wax into oblivion, you musn't allow yourself the delectation of thinking you can treat all as equals. You musn't. You must keep the powers which eternally will evil believing they are furthering their own goals so that they can be made to eternally work good."
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Mar 28, 2019 14:05
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Jormgir, the Serpent That went... much better than Jormgir expected. Someone sentient really does still exist in the mass of pain that Kemgoz has become. It's a thought that's equal parts encouraging and heartbreaking. Nodding her head once, slowly, agreeing to Kemgoz's request, the Serpent eases back away from the temple, and turns to leave. One thought, first. Unwise to say, perhaps to the point of folly. But... No. Never mind. Perhaps another time. [b]"Farewell, Kemgoz."[b]
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Mar 28, 2019 14:14
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial "Brother, brother, brotherrr..." It's a smooth sound, like an ocean against the ears. "I promise though sometimes I might see issue in the details of your stewardship, the overall work you've done for mortalkind is superlative. I'm content to leave the stewardship of the world to you, you know best how hold Emoch and Sister's ambitions in check here." She smiles, takes an offered snack of minced lamb on fresh slices of caravan-bread. "My concern always remains firmly above the world. I fear this situation could lead to Godwar without a Moot. Crab he might be, but even Emoch is not interested in seeing the peace between gods that has reigned since Sister slew the Dark shattered." She furrows her brow, empty eye-sockets stare at the wall behind Forex. "But you are right about Dearest Sister, her...habits could easily derail a successful Moot. That is why we need to keep her close, she cannot rampage beyond our sight butttt...." She stops to take a long sip of tea, and then follows it up with a generous bite of caravan-bread. "She also must remain distracted, so until we can properly discuss her illness with her there are no issues. I have ideas for that." The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 20:10 on Mar 28, 2019 |
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Mar 28, 2019 19:53
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes Forex nods in agreement. The compliment might have been sincere or washing of hands over a delicate task - probably both - but either way, the memory of it shall prove useful. "I am glad you do. Perhaps... Perhaps you should ask Emoch to forge one. Not only would such a laborious task occupy his restless task, but also... the triumph of being necessary to someone should do well to make him pliable." "If you're willing to stomach all the gloating it entails", he adds with a smirk. The god flicks at his cigarillo playfully, watching the ashes fall off its end and incinerate itself into nothingness before reaching the floor. "I still believe you're making a mistake, Maladine, no matter how well-intentioned. You might see the lands brought closer through the passage through seas, but may not fully realize how closely the heavens and earth had been intertwined. The wall between them might only exist in your mind. Nevertheless, I know I won't stop you, hence it falls upon me to make sure my fears prove unfounded. I will attend and help with your endeavor, Maladine, and do so for an almost irresponsibly generous price." "Make sure to give Jormgir my regards, and tell her the Serpent's Flag is well on its way to buy itself a charter, shall it retain the exceptional work ethic. She'll understand what it means."
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Mar 28, 2019 22:41
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Maladine-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial "Why is everyone talking about the Ser-" And he's gone. Maladine sighs and rubs her temples. What a year already. She dissolves into thread-form again, and escapes through a window. Maladine only forms again high above the world, so high she can see the atmosphere bleed into the Celestial. There, growing from the Celestial like a mole, is her work palace. It is a relatively humble abode equipped with only three fountains and five guest rooms. At least it lets her take off her flesh, sitting just close enough to the edge so she might be what lies below the facade - the night sky itself, writhing and burning with a thousand cold stars. It moves through the palace with grace, over Luna's alchemy texts and long love letters back and forth with her wives. The Guardian leads, pushing curtains and drapes and vases out of the way so she doesn't stumble on them. A small chest, next to her desk where she sat weighing souls. Made of a hard and terrible material that was always slimy and cold to the touch. Her tendrils pull the lid off delicately, and stare at the souls laying within. They're sinners, Dearest Sisters meals. She pulls them out, sets them upon the desk. Their screams will fill the empty halls. OOC: As we discussed, using WITHOLD and The Celestial to forge what amounts to an occult squeaky toy to distract Kem from causing mischief during the Moot. The Unlife Aquatic fucked around with this message at 02:26 on Mar 29, 2019 |
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Mar 29, 2019 01:47
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes And with business promptly concluded it was time to start another one - one that Forex knew will rest mostly on his shoulders. With a single eruption of the remote Kyskytera, the path has been cleared and the god sank into the volcano. "Hail to you, Worldshaper", Forex said with a polite bow once he reached the forge of forges. "I could not help but wonder at the majesty of the lands and treasures you have reached as of late. Nor could I miss Kemgoz being drawn to that very same shine. Pray tell, great smith, has the cursed one proved much of an inconvenience?"
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Mar 29, 2019 17:35
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper There is a clack. Then another. A third. A cascade quickly follows as an arcane mechanism, its design long since lost to time, sprung to action in order to rouse the Great Gate of the Vaults from its slumber. Slowly, ponderously, it forced itself open to reveal the God on the other side, now facing this fellow divinity that had risen from his moat of magma. Emoch looked down at Forex for a moment, before taking a deliberate, thundering step outside the Great Gate, and closing it behind himself. "The Broken Goddess has always been an inconvenience, to Me, to You, to the Sky-Harlot and Sea-Serpent, and mortalkind. Many times have I advocated for spearing her accursed hide and ending her existence, even if what she does often hurts others more than it hurts me. Even before her shattering I would rather have for her not to have been. These are ALL opinions I am known to hold, Merchant. Most of all by you." "So instead of talking in meaningless platitudes, speak what you mean and have come to actually say, Merchant. Or perhaps you mean for me to wrangle and haggle your intent from you?" Emoch was silent for a short, but heavy moment, after which he continued. "A line of action I would advise against. Both my time and patience are limited." "SPEAK." Theantero fucked around with this message at 18:09 on Mar 29, 2019 |
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Mar 29, 2019 18:04
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Forex,Born of the Bonfires, One Who Gives, One Who Takes "A drastic step, if not unfounded one. Nevertheless - one beyond the means of this humble merchant, forced to accept *force majeure* in their dealings. And that is why I am bound with honest concern of your endeavors. For I will not lie, it is most pleasing for someone else to bear the brunt of her poisonous attentions, yet... I do believe our designs align harmoniously and I intend to keep them that way." "As easy as it would be to leave her obsessed with whichever trials you sought to inflict on the settlers, I do happen to look favorably on your work here, glad to provide all the logistical backbone the mortals here need to grow according to your designs. So if you want my intentions laid bare: I come to offer joining our mights in a unified task: to ensure Kemgoz' attentions won't pervert your great deeds and to ensure the tensions that might result won't leave past the shores, where the designs of my own remain incomplete." "Truly, I have little faith in this moot into which Maladine seems to invite all that hold tha barest amount of the divine spark. No - we are at a brink of a new era. It would be foolish to entrust its fortunes to squabbling of godlings, when one could resolve the matters among... reasonable parties."
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Mar 29, 2019 19:11
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper A quiet envelops the cavernous underground hall the two Gods stood in as Forex' speech slowly echoed into nothingness. Emoch merely stared at him from behind his helmet. For a good while he just stood, making no movements, saying no words. Until, that is, he finally did, his tone heavy, accusatory, and clearly carrying an undertone of barely contained anger. "I ask you to speak PLAINLY", Emoch almost spat the words, "And this is how you treat me? By vomiting some overelaborate SPIEL all over me, where you act to malign the Lesser Divinities you so much love to deal with, where you speak ill of exactly the sort of gathering you out of all beings would love to have? Not only do you directly disrespect my demands, but you treat me as a FOOL as well?" "YOU WOULD DARE?" Emoch threw a spear into the ground between the two gods, more to make a point than anything else. It embedded itself into the bedrock with a solid thud. "Understand." "Only because we have Aligned in the past, and I believe we will Align in the future, do I accept your invitation. We will meet at this Moot of yours." Emoch turned around on his heels, and walked briskly back inside the Vaults. The Great Gate slammed shut behind him with a booming finality.
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Mar 29, 2019 19:26
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper A Moot. What pretension. Theater. Starring a Star-Witch wishing to wring hands over their Age-old pity project and a hubristic newborn too big for their breeches, both so smugly self-assured, both so greatly convinced of their own brilliance as they danced and weaved a game of words around a gaggle of powerless irrelevants. Emoch raised the piece of brass he had been working on, and once more inspected it, a hammerlike shape. This time, however, nothing was tossed away. This time, a grunt one could construe as being accepting emanated from beneath his helmet. What utter pointlessness. What absolute waste of his time. But he would have to make an appearance. He was not yet independent enough to completely ignore the games of his lessers. The invitation dressed as non-invitation had to be heeded, no matter how much it annoyed him. No matter how much he would rather not. No matter how much he'd have to once again see faces he'd much rather forget. A smoldering sarcophagus of brass and gold, gem-studded eyes and ears, rested next to Emoch's feet. It was the sort of apparatus that Emperors of old would have sacrificed endless riches and the lives of a hundred slaves to be buried in. They had, in fact. It was the worst mistake they had ever made. Emoch kicked open the sarcophagus with almost spiteful impetus, and dipped the still-glowing hammer into the imprisoned souls inside with a sort of swiftness you would not believe of him. The resultant wail would have been the death of any mortal. But no matter. Such activities would eventually become unnecessary. Because whilst the others understood animal cunning and word-trickery, whilst they understood deception and games of strategy over the shambling clay on Waxen soil, they did not understand Vision. They did not understand Mastery, or Perfection. They did not understand that for the past two ages they had been brawling over naught but a prototype. Emoch lifted the Brass Hammer from the sarcophagus. It was now as black as the hated night sky, with grooves shining a baleful starlight. Perhaps one day they would understand their folly. _____ OOC: Using CREATE, Artifice and Divine Smith to create the Soulhammer for later use.
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Mar 30, 2019 17:00
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As the Gods focus themselves on the impending Godmoot, mortal lives keep spinning. Trade routes are consolidated, and wealth starts flowing. Kemgoz's curse is a blow to the Islanders' expansionistic aims, forcing them to steer away from the mainland, but hardening their resolve to be the ones to conquer the Smith's Legacy, the treasure-mountain left by Emoch to those worthy of getting it. Those who are attuned to the world of souls shudder, as they feel both Maladine's ruthless crafting of a distraction for her writhing sister, and the echoing clangs of Emoch's new hammer, portending great and terrible things. But now, the Godmoot is afoot, and many divine beings move to honor the Witch-Empress's invitation.
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Apr 1, 2019 17:25
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Emoch-Ma'Haar, The Smith In The Deep, The Worldshaper, The Vaultkeeper A clangorous gong echoed in the deep underground. Too deep for any living thing. Too deep for any thing capable of appreciating the seething anger festering beneath, other than its source. For Emoch was not having a particularly good day. The Moot had not gone as badly as it could have, but he had the distinct impression he had been had in some way, though he could of course not prove anything, or really even point at any particular thing. But it was a feeling he could not shake. Usually, at least, working his forge made him feel better about things. But right now? Right now he was staring at yet another piece of Soulmetal that buckled and warped under the caress of the Soulhammer, as the blasted thing wailed in his ear, yet another failure in the cascade of failures that this first attempt at a Soulfunnel had turned out to be. And now he was all out of souls. Even with what he could salvage from the funnel, he did not have enough materials for a second attempt. He'd have to interact with the Topside, once more. Yes. Emoch was not having a particularly good day. _____ OOC: Using CREATE, Artifice and Divine Smith to create the Soulfunnels under Treasure Mountain
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Apr 7, 2019 00:58
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 Maladine and Luna-Aeo'na, Witch-Empress Of The Celestial, Witch Princess Of The Moon Next year, Maladine will begin a tour to meet all the young gods and goddesses. But tonight, tonight there is wine. "Hooowwww..." Maladine slurs. "...howwww does he give me bigger headaches than Dearest Sister?" Luna laughs, and the sound echoes through the Palace of the Moon. The Palace of the Moon is almost as old as the world, older than Maladine. It has high vaulted silver ceilings, inlaid with electrum and amber and rich woods in complex, swirling patterns. Maladine remembers what they look like, and imagines them as she drinks. "Because Kemgoz is innocent, in her own strange way, Emoch knows what he does. He could curdle a pot of milk if he walked past, such is the foulness of his nature." Luna says, tipping back only her third glass compared to Maladine's seventh bottle. They lay together on a long, wide divan. A heron flies in with Maladine's eighth bottle. She takes it with thanks, the heron bows low, and flies off again. "Ooohhh you know how I am. I c-can't believe-eve there isn't something in there to be saved evennn ifff..." She squeezes Luna's hand. Always so cool, always so smooth.Then a swig of wine, the laughter tickles her mouth and leaves her feeling just a little lighter. "...evennn iffff we've done bad things to one a-another." Luna's fingers rest against her cheek. Maladine knows she's looking into her eye sockets. She wishes she could look back, see the flowing wheat-gold hair and her beautiful crown, or the way her eyes softened with her and her alone. A kiss. "And that is why I love you, even if I don't understand how you can feel that way." Maladine drinks down the eighth, and then curls up against Luna. She pelts Maladine's scalp in kisses, and watches as her eyelids slide over the red gemstones that fill her eye sockets. Eventually, Maladine succumbs to sleep and Luna cannot bear to wake her, so she only has a heron bring them a blanket as she sits there stroking her bright red curls. --- OOC: No rolled action as Maladine already completed her goals for the turn. Instead she will embark on the Hearts and Minds tour we discussed, meeting and spending time with various deities of the world with a special focus on newborns.
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Apr 7, 2019 02:31
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