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Deus Plani: Round 8
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Topic Started: May 17 2016, 03:26 PM (366 Views)
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Oyster Man
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May 17 2016, 03:26 PM
Post #1
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Master of Biscuit Technology
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Indeed, they say it is the calm before the storm that tells you of the coming danger.
MAP
2.)Conriocht, 13.) Starlora - Northern Pantheon, Luna de Vinter Worshipers: 216 166 Vinter Ulv:~166 ( 70 adult males, 70 adult women, 25 children, Malekan) 50 Moon Mother ~50 (3 prophets(Grok, Shera, Selena) , 20 adult female, 20 adult male, 7 children) Power: 744.36 249.78 Vinter Ulv 233.5 (210 adult[1.5x] + 19.5 child[.75x] + 3 Malekan) + 1 physical god) 92.07 Moon Mother: 74.25 ( 9 prophets[3x], 60 adults[1.5x], 5.25 children[.75x]) 17.82 Moon Mother Multipliers: 17.82 (5.94 blood sacrifice and prayer[.08x], 5.94 Crescent Moon Staff [.08x], 5.94 Monthly Requispirita [.08x]) 384.69 General Multipliers: (307.75 Desperation[1x], 46.16 Holy Weapon[.15x], 24.62 idols[.08x], 6.16 protective trinkets [.02x]) Elapsed Time: 7 months Current Season: late summer
Vinter Ulv
At first Vinter Ulv’s pack had some curiosity regarding the Grote Reis. It was a thing called forth because of the Dodsfald, and some wondered what their fate would be without their god to guide them. True, they would have the betas, but each family was more connected to the god than they were to other members of the pack. Without their alpha to unite them there was some question of their unity, and indeed of their safety. What if the Dodsfald were to escape their Great Father, and hunt them?
Fortunately these fears were put to rest when their god told them of the events to come. With anxious excitement at seeing their Great Father in his new form, and of learning about their new “Moon Mother,” and even from seeing little Malekan grow so suddenly in such a way as to resemble Vinter Ulv, they readily moved out toward the north with a renewed sense of identity.
Moon Mother
The arrival of so many new and unfamiliar people was a strange and frightening thing for the Moon Mother’s worshipers. Worse, the way these strangers spoke was almost exactly like the man who attacked. Tensions were uneasy between the two peoples, yet each respected their own god enough so that nothing became of it. That said, though some people from either side were at least partially accepting of the other’s god, they each thought their own was superior in one way or another. Many of Moon Mother’s people even believed that Vinter Ulv was simply a physical manifestation of the spirit wolf, that it was a lesser god obedient to the Moon Mother, and that its followers were delusional to follow it instead of the Mother herself. Still it was enough for a shaky alliance, and thus a sharing of faith, to form.
Though with this union came other uncertainties. Never before had it been decided what mate a child would have. Few people only stuck with one mate as it was. Though they understood how the arrangement might work, and some even guessed as to why it was to happen, it was none the less an oddity, and even Shera wondered for the wellbeing of her daughter with the wolfish Malekan.
Meanwhile, With High Priestess Shera’s aid at the Moon Pool, Grok began to recover. The burns he suffered began to scab and scar over, and his soul seemed to warm by her song. He was still weak, but in time he would heal, though not soon enough to train any Blood Owls. For the time they all remained as simple hunters. Over the weeks however, as others watched and participated in the first Requispirita, they began to realize there was a certain power in song. Even Vinter Ulv’s people found some familiarity in this, as they sang to their dead every full moon.
With Union
The month and a half after the two gods met was a frantic one. The various species of canines worked tirelessly to herd food back to the cave, bringing everything from rabbits to elk, to aurochs and even mighty creatures such as rhinos and mammoths. Sensing the dire situation, and impulses from the Great Wolf, other predators such as hyenas, bears, and cats fled the area, knowing this territory was not to be contested. Meanwhile the air around the cave was choked with smoke from the great bonfires that burned, fighting away the growing cold and cooking precious meat. They also churned out the thick black tar made from birch bark stored in skulls buried just under the fires, a secret known by the Moon Mother’s people. All around the giant camp tents were erected, and skins were left out to dry into leather while people made trinkets, idols, necklaces, and other pieces of decoration to protect them from the coming storm..
Creating the staff proved to be difficult. Vinter Ulv’s people took turns working particularly large and strong mammoth bones, spending the daylight hours hewing and shaping them into suitable segments for the spear. Some of the Moon Mother’s less xenophobic followers even spent the nights helping. Yet still it was a slow process. Every bone had to be carefully carved so that their ends could haft into one another, yet many of them shattered or fractured when not hit just right, wasting hours of labor. The sides of the shaft were lined with the straight sections of mammoth tusk, and every piece was mortared together with tar. Large sheets of leather were also cut and stretched around it, creating a tight waterproof binding.
Creating the other components however were relatively easy tasks. Once a sufficiently sized crystal was found for the Blood Quartz it was a simple matter for the Moon Mother’s followers to chip it into the right shape and polish it with smooth river stones. Then the quartz was dipped into the body of a dead mammoth, so it could draw in the creature’s power, and tarred into place near the end of the spear. Meanwhile Vinter Ulv, in his new humanoid form, took little time in crafting the Ice Fang. Using his power he easily hafted a large piece of stone into a spear head the size of a man’s hand, and pressed the snow and ice into it with his palms. When the spear head began to glow a faint blue, radiating with the energies of the two gods, he mounted it onto the end of the shaft with yet more wood tar and animal gut. The end result was a hefty tree trunk of a spear, far too large for any human, but suitable for the gods. It’s head glowed like the sky, and fog seemed to pool in an aura around it, the astral energy of the gods shining through the spear and freezing the surrounding air.
And then, with food enough to last them several weeks, and the nerves distracted through crafting ornaments and worship, the Northern Alliance’s people awaited and prepared for the Dodsfald’s attack. Vinter Ulv returned to his wolf form and sat upon a ledge above the cave, watching the horizon for anything that might hurt his children. Sometimes he would speak with Malekan, and other times he simply walked among the people of the camp. Meanwhile the Moon Mother bonded with her children in other ways, but more importantly sought out a path for their future. As the air on the surface was growing cold with a cruel winter, the winds that blew from within the cave remained warm. Curious she sent her own astral projection to see what lied beneath the ground. She found that the cave was colossal, far larger than any natural feature should ever be, and stretched out for miles under the mountain. Though her eyes in this form were weak, lacking her followers to grant her more influence, she could still sense that the ambient energies in the cave were much stronger than they were on the surface. The caverns would be big enough to house her people, and many many more, yet for now there was little else to support them down there. True, the extra energies might help her people develop faster, and make the dark land around them rapidly change to suit them best, but it would be a rushed and erratic change. Her people might find a way to thrive in the underground, but at what cost? And surely something this big couldn’t have gone unnoticed for long. What else might lie beneath?
Far to the west, away from it’s goddess and her people, the spirit owl soared, surveying the land to see what there was to see. Despite being late summer the land was as cold and still as deep winter. For many miles there were no creatures, all of them having been driven away or rounded up by wolves. From time to time an abandoned camp poked through the desolation, yet their fires had not burned in many weeks, and their occupants seemingly shambled away leaving only long dragging footprints.
And finally the Spirit Owl came upon her. The pale icy-blue and white woman, who’s walking upon the earth robbed it of its life and froze it solid, and whose cries meant only death. The creature which brought an eternal winter with it. The Dodsfald. As the Spirit Owl flew near the Dodsfald’s glowing blue eyes locked onto it, frozen mist sprouting from her nostrils as she sobbed for her child, and stumbled toward the astral projection. As instructed the Spirit Owl fled, circling wide and far around the creature, trying to lose it, but ultimately it was of no use. The Dodsfald was already on a course for the cave, and the Spirit Owl was not a big enough distraction when the energies of the Northern Alliance and its people shone brightly through the Astral Plane.
As the Dodsfald neared the Alliance made ready. The Vinter Ulv’s canines stalked through the woods, taking up positions at the base of a hill where they might be able to ambush the creature, to pin it to the ground and allow the gods to do their work. Meanwhile, all throughout the camp the worshipers of the two gods came together to sing and pray, begging for their lives to be saved, and granting strength to the Moon Mother and Winter Father. Yet they didn’t stop there. More than fifty of the best hunters, both males and females from both gods, set out with their shaggier cousins to wait along the Dodsfald’s path. If the canines failed, they would not. Leading them in this endeavor was Grok and the four betas of the Vinter Ulv. When all was said and done these brave souls would become Blood Owls, and the future destiny of the two gods would be assured.
(The rest is to be continued in the part time update.)
1.) T0R4C - Palankiin Worshipers: 58 (23 adult female, 20 adult male, 10 children, 5 spirits) Power: 77 72 Neanderthals: (64.5 adult[1.5x], 7.5 child[.75x]) 0.5 Spirits[.01x] 3.6 Culture: (Neanderthal (Trinkets[.05x])) 1 Physical god Time Elapsed: 10 months Current Season: Early Winter (Hey Scott, I just wanted to let you know some of your history has been retconned. No longer did the Imortalis give their blood to just nine neanderthals, but instead gave it to all of them. I had misunderstood what you were trying to do with your previous actions, and am also trying to approach the game with a different, and hopefully better, philosophy for response writing. For the sake of ease, the neanderthals that left still did so, but mostly under the pretext that they thought Palankiin would lead them astray. Because they were panzy-losers.)
The spirits are born, a new type of astral creature similar to but different from the neanderthals. Like their human counterparts, the spirit-kind have souls, though most lack bodies of their own. Instead they reside in the astral plane, tethered to the world by their god, and occupy appropriate bodies only when called upon. For now they number only five, the spirits of fire, earth, water, trees; and the Great Tree’s Spirit, which always resides within the same host body. Like infants, they have few thoughts of their own, though they have a strong fondness for their father and siblings, and a strong urge to serve. Though they grant little worship they will grow in time, both in number and in power. But first they must be developed further by Palankiin.
Five months pass, bringing with them the biting cold of winter. None the less life does seem to improve for the neanderthals as they travel with their god. Though Palankiin’s actions continue to surprise them, they are none the less grateful for his protection and aid in hunting. With his help, food is easier than ever to procure, a small surplus even generated and carried with them in leather sacks, while the fire spirit helps ensure they do not grow cold at night. In gratitude the neanderthals even carve several small trinkets in honor of their god. Several more families are even happened upon, many of them eager to follow the relatively worry free lifestyle during the harsher season. Though the work of the fire spirit is very apparent, collectively they wonder what the earth, water, and tree spirits do for them. However, as the number of hungry mouths grows the surplus of food begins to rapidly shrink. Distantly however the Great Tree waits for its father's return in an odd state of confusion and sadness. Currently spirit-kind are unable to reproduce without their father’s direct intervention, and so the Great Tree does little other than sit and watch the world around it. However, even as its body grows tired and dormant from the cold, it occasionally is awakened by the passing of large creatures. New Abilities:
- The spirits are currently under your direct control, though for now they are very simple and limited in what they can do.
- You can either create more spirits, or modify the existing spirits.
3.) Saldrenius - MrHands Worshipers: ~34 27 Clan: (1 prophet, 20 adult female, 6 children) 7 Uyoi: (Slaves (4 adult female), Lesser Folk (1 adult female, 2 adult male)) Power: 17 (13.5 Adult[.5x] + 1.5 Children[.25x] + 2 Prophet[2x]) Elapsed Time:~6 months Current Season:Early Fall “What a token this is to me.” Zenwatoon said to Saldrenius within the privacy of the Astral Plane as their followers traveled. “I remember now this sorry band of humans. So prideful and spiteful, unyielding to my Uyoi’s demands. And so how pleasurable it was to make them slaughter their own children in my name. Did they tell you that part? No? Well, simple beings that they were they undoubtedly knew not of my presence. “A pity. I should have taken them as slaves then. But I am Zenwatoon. I am omen, and their sacrifice to me was but a foretelling of this day. What shame must fill you in having chosen such miserable stock, and of having pulled their fate from what was once a promise against my wrath.”
To the people of Saldrenius’s clan, the world had shattered. Their grandparents, uncles, fathers, and brothers had been murdered in front of the women and children; and the god who had once offered them salvation, the god who had promised them a sure victory in the war he plunged them into, the god who took them from the safe comfortable lives they once knew and made them toil for months, had delivered them into slavery. Many no longer knew what to believe. As they marched, forced upriver by the prodding Uyoi, the surviving clansmembers who had stayed to fight at the camp were reunited with those who had fled, though it was anything but a happy occasion. They traveled through the forest, and into vast sprawling plains of grass and large game. Eventually they came to a settlement made of wood and thatch houses. Most of the Uyoi dispersed from that point, different groups taking one of several foot paths carved into the earth by the constant treading of feet, though many still stayed behind. Sullen men greeted their families in the center of the village with looks of remorse upon their faces, telling their sullen women and children of those who had died. The slaves of Saldrenius meanwhile were marched to a dug out pen canopied by a wooden branch and grass roof, where they were stabled with the other captives of the Uyoi. Over the next several weeks they toiled in the fields with the other slaves, tending to cultivations of teosinite and other gourds and vegetables. Most days other members of the Uyoi worked with them, and from these peasants and slaves many things were learned. This village was but one of many, with several others linked by the river and foot paths. Every harvest a small amount of the gatherings were sent to an even larger settlement. Many of the Uyoi still lived a hard life under Zenwatoon, forced to work the fields or hunt and gather unless they were particularly skilled at pot making, weaving, stone knapping, or other similar professions, even sex. All but the slaves however at least had one day in every five free of determined labor, and everyone was given their proper share of food so long as the surplus remained aplenty, which usually it was. However few could say they truly loved Zenwatoon, as any who defied him would be strangled in the night by the ghostly hands he commanded, and because the honor guard always kept a close and hard watch on the lesser peoples. The honor guard, it was said, were descended from the first family Zenwatoon revealed himself to. They were well trained in how to fight and command, and held the cruel god’s absolute authority. They kept watch of the slaves, acting as slave master and guardsmen to all, but also served as priests of Zenwatoon. Several were stationed in each village, and rotated every few months. It was said that the largest settlement, where food was sent to, was their holy place. The honor guard were also the ones who took the first born child of every family. Healthy children weaned off their mother's’ milk were taken away with each rotation, however sickly children were sacrificed to the White Hand in a public display at an altar in the village center: a stone hand blossoming from the earth with its palm cupped into a bowl to collect blood. Prisoners and disobedient slaves shared the same fate. The Uyoi also told of Stone One. Sometimes it would wander to the various villages, and deliver fruits and nuts to children, and silently stand so that its shade covered laborers out in the sun. However it always held its distance when honor guard were near, and it would always appear to shake when it witnessed sacrifices. Some said in the old days Stone One had even destroyed the altars to Zenwatoon, and broken a house made of rock, but when the Uyoi built it all back the Primal never did again. It was also said that Stone One was responsible for scaring or killing all the game in the forest, so that the Uyoi would never go far from its watch. Indeed, though Stone One had never been known to harm a human, many Uyoi still feared the powerful giant.
Life for Saldrenius’s followers was harder than ever in their new found servitude. Though in the backs of their minds they still believed in Saldrenius, their worship to him was severely dampened. None the less, the telling of stories flowed both ways between the Uyoi lesser folk and the clan, and those who had been conscripted to serve as soldiers told stories of what they saw. In hushed whispers word of the ‘new god that not even Zenwatoon could destroy’ began to spread, even between villages on the lips of traders. For a short while some of the Uyoi even ventured to see the new slaves, before the honor guard broke up such disturbances. But with the traveling words came other news. The largest harvest of the year would begin soon, and after workers would be needed to transport the village’s tithe to the Honor Guard’s settlement. It was common practice during these times for slaves to be split apart from those they knew and distributed among the other settlements, lest they get too comfortable. There was also talk that some might even be sent back west to the forest, to assist in gathering wood for the coming winter. However more curiously perhaps was that Stone One had not been seen since the night of the battle. New Miracles:
- On the evening they were captured the very winds seemed to sob with Saldrenius’s words. You now can control breezes to a small extent.
- Their defeat and enslavement was crippling to the followers of Saldrenius. You have lost the miracle of giving your warriors higher chances of success in combat, and your followers can no longer inspire fear with their shouts.
4.) Sigma Draconis - Kraeyar Worshipers: ~119 108 Sapiens: (47 adult female, 40 adult male, 19 child, Rur, Disgraced Hunter), 11 Neanderthal: (5 adult female, 5 adult male, 1 child)) 9 Non-Worshipers (Hyenas (5 female, 4 male)) Power: 183 1 Physical god98 Sapiens: (87 Adult + 9.5 Children[.5x] + 1 Rur + .5 Hunter[.5x]) 15.75 Neanderthal: (15 Adult[1.5x] + .75 child[.75x]) 68.2 Multipliers: (56.8 Trinkets[.5x] + 11.4 Stone Piles[.1x] Elapsed Time: 5 months Current Season: early summer At first some were in disbelief. Kraeyar had spoken to a primal, peacefully, and then they had gathered with it’s spawn. Some thought to disband by that notion alone, yet most were dumbfoundedly impressed. Even as problematic as some found moving to be, all eventually followed the god as he left. The humans, as a whole, thought their survival would be guaranteed under Kraeyar’s guidance, or at least that their deaths would be assured by staying behind. The journey however proved to be an arduous thing. It moved quickly enough, with even the old being relatively fit given the nature of life for the humans, and only the youngest children and oldest elders had to be carried regularly. Indeed it made quite the site to see Kraeyar carrying sometimes as many five people at a time, two in his arms and three cradled in his newly grown cape, though more often than not the adult humans carried their own weak kin. However gathering enough food to keep everyone fed proved to be a difficult task. Though the hyena’s were preternaturally adept at finding game, the human hunters struggled to procure enough for the the group as a whole. None the less enough food was always found to keep the group moving, the meager offerings the centipedes found making up the difference, though no one ever felt full. Indeed the matter was made even more poignant when new families joined the group. At first the stranger families were nervous and amazed to see the god approach with its many followers, yet it made their encounters with the centipedes all the more meaningful. Even the neanderthals, more xenophobic than the humans, quickly decided to join the group. Such a large and diverse entourage was hard to deny, especially since they brought with them warnings of a coming danger. And yet, there were seemingly no good caves to establish as a permanent campsite, with them usually being small or difficult to access, and otherwise inhospitable. The strange feeling that radiated throughout the air, the sickness that Matriarch had spoken of, seemed to loom over every place they went. The humans and hyenas never seemed to notice it, but when he was still and fully aware with his surroundings, in tune with both the Physical and Astral planes, Kraeyar felt it. A faint feeling of morose sadness that permeated the air. Furthermore, a little more than two months into the journey, the effects of fatigue became very obvious. Hunger made the group irritable, and the neanderthals and hyenas were alienated by the humans, subtly pushed to the edges of the group when they stopped to rest. Weapons and tools had also broken, but with their constant pace of movement there was little time to repair them or to make more. There wasn’t even much good flint to be found without extensively searching for it and traveling. None the less, several advancements were developed while on the journey. Without the luxury of a camp to store things in, the humans began tinkering with their knowledge of leather and wooden baskets. It wasn’t long until backpacks made of hide and wood became common, clothing being repurposed for the cause; with the hot summer nearly in full swing they had little use for it anyhow. The followers of Kraeyar even found a new appreciation for the stones he had given them, tying them into necklaces and pulling strength from them. At night rocks were even picked off the ground and ceremoniously placed at the base of trees, one for each person, a sort of representation and reminder of the journey their god was taking them on. Meanwhile, the transformation of the disgraced hunter went much as expected. Over the months his complaints lessened as he simply began to cease caring what others thought of him, gradually becoming more solitary. His vision became particularly adept, especially at night, and his newly pointed ears could hear better than the simple humans around him. His muscles became thick and dense, allowing him to run almost as fast as the hyenas, and easily leap as high as Kraeyar was tall. And yet a certain simpleness fell over him. He could still speak as well as he ever did, yet he had few new ideas. When his tools broke he did not even attempt to make new ones, and simply discarded the old. He did not even worship Kraeyar in any high degree, though he was far more obedient than he had ever been. However, whenever the group came to a stop the hunter could always be found near Rur. Rur himself was grew steadily. He was walking, and only seldom had to be carried, usually keeping pace with the rest. He even began to speak, his first words being “Kraeyar, father,” and “hunt.” Even one of the hyenas, a young male, the smallest of their troop, would often be found staring at the child, a sense of admiration noticeably coming from it. Yet despite all that had happened, more was yet to come. The hyenas were becoming restless. It had never been established how long they were to escort the group, though, as the Hunt-Lead often complained to Kraeyar, surely it had been long enough. She threatened that if they did not find his cave soon they would leave. However, at least one in their group seemed more inclined to stay. And, although there had been much talk of disease as of late, with many curious as to what it could be, the concept itself was nothing new. Newborns often died from it, and even with a god nearby sickness was a powerful, unpredictable thing. One night the new-mother’s infant son began to turn blue, and despite what she and the others tried, he died. It was so sudden that not even Kraeyar had time to respond. The mother was distraught, weeping and crying all the night long. Nothing could console her, and even the very essence of her soul seemed to freeze with grief. By morning the only thing she murmured, in between the howling sobs, was “my child!” New Abilities:
- Kraeyar has brought his power with him outside of his cave. He can charge stones that he collects, or that are given to him, on his person.
- Kraeyar has grown a new centipede cape, and they along with the first batch are still under his control. However those not attached to him are subject to age, and will soon die.
- Kraeyar’s followers can now draw some strength from the stones they wear around their necks. Not much, but enough to bat away the feelings of being tired.
- (Note, you can also make the disgraced hunter look as you wish. The description I provided was just to give an idea of what happened.)
6.) Ramensoup – Apparatus Worshipers: ~67 39 Village: (18 adult females, 15 adult males, 6 children, Valve) 28 Hunter Gatherers: (14 adult female, 10 adult male, 4 children) Power: 100 64 Sapiens: (57 Adult + 5 Children[.5x] + 2 Valve) 36 Village Multipliers: (18 Shrine Fire[.5x] + 18 Idols[.5x]) Time Elapsed: 1 year, 6 months Current Season: Late Rainy Season/Early Dry Season Unbeknown to Apparatus’s people, every year, far to the west, water evaporated off of the ocean and inland sea, and soaked into the air and clouds. During the rest of the continent’s summer strong air currents moved though the humid air, and carried the water laden winds eastward. Yet as they blew some of them were funneled into the lowland plain between the two mountain ranges. Here they struggled to push deeper into the plain, their cooler wetter winds fighting against the furnace like air billowing out of the central desert. Their battles deposited nourishing rain to long stretches of the plain, allowing the rich savanna to stretch deeper along the river, yet also spawning frightening storms of swirling air. These powerful gales and rain, along with lightning, and the river itself, were in part the essences that birthed Sebkot. And true, the humans’ had plenty of experience with these things to some degree, but with the primal so near, and the things that spawned him made stronger in his presence so long as he willed it, life became unprecedentedly more difficult. It rained every day for three months. The world was cast into a deep melancholic gray, the river swelled, and puddles grew to become shallow lakes, turning patches of the tropical grassland into muddy swamp. Though the levees were flushed, as the Master of Knowledge had promised, mosquitos were still able to find refuge elsewhere, and their numbers never fell in any noticeable way. More and more people continued to die from the sickness that was sweeping through them, and it seemed there was little to be done about it. Water even became difficult to boil. The first pots Apparatus’s people had made were never fired, at least not in ways that the kilns allowed for, and were fragile. But as they broke they could not readily be replaced. Sebkot guarded the river and its ample supplies of clay. And with the roaring winds constantly berating their homes and structures, and much of the grain stores spoiled by water and mold, life narrowed to simply hunting and gathering what food could be had, and trying to make repairs where necessary. Fortunately the migrations of the herds were slowed by the rising waters, and game was relatively abundant. But this gift came cloaked in dangers of its own. Prides of lions, packs of hyenas, and other predators were always nearby. Not only did hunters find themselves eyed by other creatures, but their kills were often contested when trying to bring them back to camp. A leopard had even become so bold as to prowl the village at night, and killed three children before it was finally slain. Its meat was readily consumed, though with so much water in the air its pelt was left to do little other than rot. With so much stress and death among them, the people of the village were becoming irate. One family finally decided that life had been safer, easier, and overall better before the White One appeared to them, and wanted nothing else to do with the god or its village. They left, and with their example two other families did likewise, though with less hostility. Despite what their Benefactor had asked of them, others continued to look towards Val as a scape goat. Surely he was to blame for bringing the Demon, having whispered to it. It was no wonder he distanced himself from the rest of the village, some thought, so that he could communicate in private with the terrible monster. When he was seen, somehow able to safely gather clay and reeds from the riverside when no one else could, he often mumbled to himself and had an odd twitch about him. Those who did still interact with him, mostly to trade what he could gather for food, noticed that he was often hard to understand when he spoke, quickly jumping from one train of thought to another, and that he was otherwise single mindedly focused on bringing all that he could from the riverside. However, from within the Astral Plane Apparatus observed faint bluish white energies enshrouding the young man, though their origin was unclear. They did at least offer him some protection from the Primal. Yet despite these happenings not all was without merit. Apparatus’s blessings of reinforced structures held true, and many of the soft clay huts stood strong when they should have collapsed. The god’s teachings continued more or less uninterrupted, and ideas for shallow boats that could better navigate the rapidly developing floodplain were developed. The white flames continued to offer their protection to any wielder, and indoor lanterns provided a certain comfort on stormy nights. With such strong winds carrying water indoors every home was even outfitted with closable doors. And though the crops had to largely be abandoned, other edible perennial plants experienced a surge of growth in the patches of earth that weren’t waterlogged. Fishing was as good as ever thanks to flooded areas that extended water away from the main body of the river, and the local cats even provided a relatively easy to catch meal on rare occasions. And though they left the confines of the village, at least some of the departing families took their worship of Apparatus with them. Demon and the Templar - Quote:
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Sebkot eats. Humans bring Sebkot donkey every day when there is no finger left to count. Donkey not is brought one day. Sebkot accepts. Sebkot eats human. Sebkot drinks human essence, and eats human flesh. Picks bones from Sebkot’s teeth, and shows it to the humans. Human flesh is better than donkey. Sebkot grows stronger from it. Sebkot grows cunning. Sebkot uses his power to make the storms big. But Sebkot is growing weak. Humans must give Sebkot more. As the village struggled to manage food and cope with the sickness working through it, Sebkot remained an ever present threat. The Primal demanded that every ten days he be fed, and with the donkeys serving no other use they were all gradually offered as sacrifice. When there were no more left to give, Sebkot ate the messenger and made a display of it. Anyone who ventured near the river, save for Val, met a similar fate. But while this was happening the Templar worked diligently to manufacture the net Apparatus had instructed them to. It was an arduous task, and took longer to make than was expected, but finally it was completed. There was much celebration and praise to the White One upon their return to the village. Finally everyone’s lives were about to drastically improve thanks to their grandfatherly god. On the following morning Valve carefully checked with each of her Templars, and made sure everyone was ready. They each grabbed a fresh spear made especially for the occasion, with a tip large and sharp enough to pierce an elephant’s hide. They held their weapons over the shrine’s white flame to bless them, and said their prayers to Apparatus. The young prophetess of now fifteen years old was nervous. The task set before them was unlike any they had ever done before, but she knew that they would be successful. They had too. As an assurance she spoke with some of the hunters. If it came to it, they would aid in downing the demon with their slings, but they were not to risk their lives and approach it. And with nothing left to ensure, the band of five Templars set out to face the demon. Compared to the gloom that had consumed the world for the last half of the season, it was an unusually clear day. The sun was able to pierce through the gray blanket of clouds, painting the horizon in surreal beams of light that ended in yellowish white splotches. A cool breeze blew as they came upon the river’s edge, and for a short while things seemed peaceful. But then they noticed him. Valve was the first to spot Sebkot, his dappled scoots blending in with the grass and reeds where he was sunbathing. His body, almost as long as four men laying head to toe, presented itself parallel to the river. He seemed almost as flat as the ground itself, save for the two spiraling horns that crowned his head and the larger horn affixed to his nose. Valve started to wonder how the Primal could hold so much weight on its neck, when its long legs began to slither, turning its body to face them. Valve swallowed hard. “Get, get ready.” In an almost serpentine fashion the Primal climbed to his feet. “You feed Sebkot now?” “No!” Valve shouted back. “Apparatus demands tha-“ “YOU FEED SEBKOT NOW!” The Primal cut her off, lurching forward. “Now!” Valve shouted. Her Templar instantly fanned out into a semicircle, readying the net. But something wasn’t right. Sebkot was moving towards them, but they couldn’t see his legs. Something was in the way. Something muddy, and bright, and swirl- The air was forced out of Valve’s lungs as it slammed into her. Suddenly the world was a murky mess. Water, she was in water! Her back hit the ground, and a sharp pain pierced her shoulder. Suddenly her feet were above her head, then grass was slipping between her fingers. Her spear was ripped from her hands, and she didn’t know which way was up anymore. Flailing her arms around she found the ground. Digging her fingers into the mud, pinning the net beneath her weight, and righted herself and breached the surface. Sunlight! Air! She took a deep breath. Where was she? She heard someone screaming. To the west Sefu was caught in the wave of water, helplessly being drug back out to the river. Her other Templar were righting themselves, one of the bracing herself against the spear, the other two holding onto a rock as the wave pulled away. Why didn’t they hold onto the net? But then another thought struck her. Where was Seb- The thought was wrenched away as yet again something crashed into her side. The tip of Sebkot’s forward horn sliced up her ribs and along her chest, and sent her sprawling into the mud as he surged past her. There was an audible crunch as the back of her head hit something hard. Suddenly the world was a swirling mess of shadow and confusion. She tried to roll onto her belly, to rise back up, but her right arm wouldn’t move. Grunting, she brought her left hand, still holding the net, to the wound gash along her side, and tried to clamber to her knees. It didn’t hurt, but something didn’t feel right. Thick rivulets of blood ran from between her fingers, and her shoulder seemed to sag far more behind her than it should. She forced herself to her feet, and suddenly her entire weight was upon the corner of her neck. She forced herself to look up. Sebkot was standing upright, holding something above her body between his jaws and forelimbs. Quickly his body rocked forward, slamming the thing he was holding into the ground, and thrashing its body around. It was one of her Templar, Valve realized, but who? When the body stopped fighting back, Sebkot let out a powerful roar, shaking the world. The foul scent of must dripping from his sides, Sebkot charged forward towards something. “Aisha!” A voice cried from behind. Adisa lifted her up, his hands trembling. “Come on, we have to do this! I don’t know how long Ejiro can keep him busy!” Ejiro had managed to barely sidestep as Sebkot plowed her direction. Not waiting she jabbed her spear forward, just behind the Primal’s left arm. It plunged true, and pierced into Sebkot’s flesh past the weapon’s head. Hissing Sebkot turned in his own skin, raising the front half of his body so that his head was eye level, as he came to a complete stand still. He looked the Templar straight in the eye. Before Ejiro had time to react, Sebkot immediate snatched upward with the wounded arm, as if nothing had happened. His scaley hand sealed around Ejiro’s neck, as his other arm came around to pluck the irritant from his side. “Not for Sebkot.” The Primal growled. Using Ejiro’s own spear, Sebkot drove the weapon through the Templar’s chest. Ejiro gurgled as the head of the spear stabbed out of his back, painted red with her blood Snorting, Sebkot stared at his kill for a moment, before loosening his grip and tossing the body away. “YEAHHH!” Adisa cried as they ran forward, him sprinting, Valve shambling. They had to net the Primal, and she couldn’t stop even though her feet did not want to cooperate. Adisa drifted to her left, opening the net with him. But Valve didn’t notice. The only thing she could see was Sebkot. Everything else was fading into an increasingly dark shadow. Sebkot rumbled as he saw the humans charging him, but rather than spring into motion himself he coiled into a ball. The sky roared with a clap of thunder, and a billow of black cloud burst into being above him. The static smell of ozone filled the air, mingling with a sharp rusty odor of blood. Adisa was the first to close the distance, and reaching back he launched his side of the net. As the translucent fibers left his fingers a blinding flash exploded from sky. Valve only barely registered as his body leapt backwards, his dark skin charred into a steaming husk. He exhaled violently one last time as he crashed dryly into the long wet grass. The smell of burned flesh, blood, and static hung in the air as Valve fell to her knees. Sobbing she held the net in her left hand, and her side with her right. There was only one thing left to do now. Sebkot lumbered forward on all fours, paying no mind to the net that was now draped over his right shoulder. “You feed Sebkot now.” Valve muttered something under her breath. “What?” The Primal spit. “No.” “What!” “No!” Sebkot hissed as his head pulled back, ready to deliver a final bite to crush the bothersome human’s head, when something came whirring through the air. A fist sized stone smacked into his nose, momentarily distracting him. “What!” Sebkot hissed. More and more of the stones pelted his hide. The hunters roared and screeched as they slowly pushed forward, their slings launching stones. “What! SEBKOT WILL EAT ALL!” “NO!” Valve cried one last time. Using all her strength she rose from her knees, pushing the net forward through the air. Meekly it fell through the air around Sebkot left arm, and dangled haphazardly down his back. Sebkot shook, screeching as a stone crashed into the side of his face. As his body rocked, the weight on the Valve’s side of the net reached over to meet the weight on the other side. Instantly the net sprung into life. It clung the Primal’s body, the fibers working their way around Sebkot, climbing up and down his scales like a giant snake. Sebkot hissed, struggling to reach the net to rip it off, when his forelimbs became wrapped in it. “WHAT!” He roared, rising on his hind legs. He shook violently as he tried to free his arms, but it was no use. Soon his horns became tangled, and his jaw was roped to his chest. He fell with a ferocious growl to his side, convulsing, as the net wrapped its way around his body. He thrashed wildly, and it took all the strength Valve had left to avoid his tail as it slammed down next to her. Valve was unconscious when the others got to her. Of the five Templar that had set out to face Sebkot, she was the only one to survive. But, for now at least, Sebkot had been captured. The Templars are dead, and the teacher of the Reverie lies wounded; but with Sebkot’s capture the harsh rainy season comes to an abrupt stop. There is much work to be done, but with enough time the fields will be recovered. Valve survived the encounter initially, though her wounds are severe, and she will take some time to recover. However she has lost the use of her right arm, and is blind in one eye. She will be permanently crippled even if she otherwise heals. It is a time both of great celebration and of tragedy. People continue to die from the disease that is ravaging them, and there is great unrest among many members of the village. Val is still seen as the root of much of the problems at hand, and many want him gone if not dead. The same could be said of the Demon. They wonder why they should let it live after the suffering it has caused them. Meanwhile there is some solace in the form of the Workshop. Despite all that has happened, many are comforted to know their fallen loved ones will live on in a place devoid of pain. The days following the capturing of Sebkot are very somber and full of weeping. A large pyre is constructed to await burning the dead, but in the meantime Apparatus notices something strange down river to the west. Sefu is alive. Yet something is off about the Astral Energies of his soul. They are incredibly convoluted, and dominated by a feeling of confusion and despair. New Miracles:
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Oyster Man
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May 17 2016, 03:28 PM
Post #2
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Master of Biscuit Technology
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14.) Eotyrannus - Last Parent Worshipers: 52,603 50,099 New Generations: (25049 male, 25049 female, 3801000 spawn) 2504 Old Generations: (1252 male, 1252 female) Power: 605 552.33 Snakeheads: (526.03 adult[.01x], 26.3 Mounds and Nests [.05x]) 52.5 Human: (50 Awe, 2.5 Fires[.05x]) Beast Intelligence Rating: .7x Elapsed Time:~13 years, Current Season: Early Fall (Hey Nano, so I’ve decided to abandon certain aspects of the story arc I was doing with Last Parent. I didn’t make a note of some things, and don’t understand some of my prior decisions, haha. Anyhow, anything that once was relating to the river slowing down and stagnating, as well as the other fish and what not clinging to the surface -for oxygen, they were suffocating BTW- is now abandoned. It didn’t happen. Fairy tales and lies.) Slowly but surely Last Parent’s snakeheads continued to breed and grow. Their population quickly reached unprecedented levels, even with breeding rates cut in half, and as food was stressed they were forced to push into new waters. Gradually they found the springs and water run offs from which the river was spawned. They explored downriver, travelling well past their old home, took every branch, and only stopped when the water itself changed and burned their gills. The Grand Water, where the rivers ended and found their beginnings, had been discovered. But this was far from the only thing they found. Humans, old and new, were encountered, though they were greeted with wary caution. They were no longer Kin. However, while some humans were almost fearful of what might happen if they harmed the children of the increasingly familiar ”Astral”, others had a sort of reverence for its children. To them the snakehead was becoming something of a sacred animal, and rumors slowly spread from upriver that some of the fish even had wings and could spit lightning. The god itself was said to be a thing of the river and the sky, able to make the rain fall and the river flood or change directions. Tailorbirds were even said to be friends with the Last Parent. In hopes to appease the deity, some families left small fires burning along the river's edge. Yet still tensions between Kin and Un-Kin rose. With so many new snakeheads in the river, breeding faster and faster still, food was becoming scarce. The snakeheads ate most of the other fish, leaving little for the humans, and several Children were wrenched into the air by the sharp hooks used by humans. Though they were usually returned to the water the pain was a severe one, and several perished from their wounds. Meanwhile predators such as crocodiles, otters, and jaguars continued to offer danger. More curiously however were the other snakeheads. Though they looked like Last Parent’s Children they were not Kin and did not speak, and they showed no guilt when they hurt or cannibalized another Snakehead.
Over the next two-and-a-half years passage of time the newest generations of Last Parent’s children became more distinct from their parents. Their capacity for speaking and understanding concepts became similar to that of human children, and though they lacked the hands of humans their telekinetic magic became more developed, allowing them to manipulate objects with a similar fidelity. Some among them were even hatched with particularly long and strong pectoral fins, which allowed them to leap from the water and glide a short distance, though most lacked this gift. Many of the snakeheads even began to distinguish themselves from one another. A new form of identity was beginning to develop, one that went beyond Kin. They began to attribute simple names to one another based on impressive feats, and no two snakeheads had the same personality. And with these new changes, the Children’s worship of Last Parent began to deepen. They began to understand that it was a thing that went beyond them, and it was the thing that made them who they were. Many of the fish felt compelled to construct small mounds of sand, rock, and branches along the river’s edge and floor. Breeding parents even arranged their floating nests in vaguely swirling shapes, so that their offspring might more easily find their way to the Spiralling Waterway.
But now it is fall. Upriver, in the temperate highlands, the weather will soon become frosty, and humans will become more dependent on the river for fishing. Cargarzar has not been seen in several years, and though the youngest generations know nothing of her, the older generations begin to wonder if her swarms of leeches will return. New Miracles:
- You have two boosts to put towards changing the bodies and intelligence of your Snakeheads. (They live 1/5th as long, but breed 399x faster, meaning their PAC is .01x)
- Tailorbirds are now under your control.
- You can now control the rain and lightning to a small degree.
- You can cause the river to change direction, swell, and shrink, but only in relatively small areas at a time.
15.) Teuthis - the Myriads Population: 360 300 Subterranean: (150 male, 150 female, 1125 young) 60 Hunters: (30 male, 30 female, 225 young) Power: 36 Time Elapsed: ~8 months Current Season: Early Spring Months pass, and with them the Myriads continue to grow and change. The Hive grows into quite the structure. Tunnels stretch deep into the ground, and a large network that stretches for nearly half a square kilometer begins to emerge. Within, the structure is reinforced by workers of the myriads that gain the ability to manipulate dirt, combining that essence and their new found ones of funguses and plant roots to create a surprisingly strong mortar. However during the height of winter activity within the hive crawls to a near stop as the Myriads try to make the most of what little food they can gather and conserve their strength wherever they can. The Myriads themselves grow larger, most becoming about the size of small rabbits at maturation, and many become much more mammalian in appearance. Scouts and gatherers learn detailed information about the world around them, and become lethal enough to make even medium sized creatures such as deer into prey; a vital evolution when food becomes scarce and the weakest members of the hive die out. Those who do survive become the largest, strongest, and most varied in appearance, with no two Myriads looking truly the same. Some of the oldest Myraids even become so large that they are permanently locked outside above the Hive, or else deep within its larger tunnels.
At the onset of fall the Myriads found the source of the southern smoke. Campfires. A band of roughly twenty neanderthals had been moving closer to the hive, and they brought with them particularly enticing and accessible essence. Something about it was similar to the Myriads’, as though they were related first child the swarm had consumed so many nights ago. The hunters were quick to strike, hungrily devouring what few neanderthals they were able to catch before the prey fled. It was many hours before they reluctantly returned to the hive, bringing only small scraps with them. What little was shared with the rest of the hive was greedily snatched up by the biggest subterranean Myriads, and hidden away in private rooms that were quickly dug. Curiously, after that fateful day the Myriads began displaying different social organization than what they had previously adhered to. Most of the hunter Myriads began to show little recognition to their smaller worker counterparts, instead adopting more of a pack mentality under the largest primals that served as alphas. Likewise the largest of the digging myriads remained active throughout the harsh winter, happily cannibalizing those that had succumbed to the cold and hoarding secret supplies of food.
But now it is spring. The world is coming back to life, and soon the surface will bloom once again as plants take to seed and animals mate. Though the Myriad’s power is spread collectively among many individuals, unable to be accessed completely by any one individual, many opportunities await the primals as a whole. Potential is there for the taking, both to the many and to the greedy. New Essences/Abilities:
- The oldest few Myriads can now purposely absorb new essences.
- Essences of medium sized creatures and most plants are now available to be distributed throughout the Myriads.
- Essences of earth, stone, fungi, and plant roots are now available to the subterranean Myriads.
16.) Chocolate Sawfish - Sudurtaf Worshipers: ~ 4,375 4010 Gen 3 Custodians: (4010 adult, 36450 spawn) 365 Gen 2 Custodians: (365 adult) Power: 1,036 995.3 Worshipers: (922.3 Gen 3 Custodians[.23x], 73 Gen 2 Custodians[.2x]) 9.22 Culture Bonus: (9.22 Afermelv sacrifices[.01x]) 31.43 Other: (46.43 Sheer Size, -15 Unknown) Beast Intelligence Rating: .3x Elapsed Time: ~6 years, 11 months Current Season: Late Spring (You have been selected for a negative local event.) Months passed, and Sudurtaf’s islands continued to change as ever before. Climbing plants brought nourishing water to the damaged canopy, allowing it to heal and seal the islands’ private atmospheres in; and life for the vertebrate creatures even became easier when newly cultivated plants began filtering the air and cleaning it of its damp decay, though the absolute center of Sudurtaf’s largest islands still favored the god’s invertebrate servants. Even still, a sort of synergy began to emerge within the islands. When the climbing plants began to suck too much water from the soil, drying it out and lowering humidity, the god’s body immediately began modifying life under it to bring water back. In a sudden shift the creatures and plants of the islands, save for the Custodians, began to fully reflect its will, and everything began to function as one with a very clear unity. The Custodians themselves likewise grew even more. They became more dexterous and agile, the flaps along their sides able to act as psudo-limbs; and the new barbs at the end of their pharynxes gave them something similar to the mouths of Sudurtaf’s more rigid servants. They even gained the ability to breathe underwater for short periods of time. However, perhaps the most influential change in the Custodians was their further increased intelligence. More and more of the world became known to them, and through their gatherings at the afermelv pools they began to truly realize the greater being that superseded them, Sudurtaf. This being was understood as something of a giant Custodian, and could always be felt in the deepest of their senses, touch. Yet there was something of a conflicting feeling within the Custodians. They felt it was wrong to eat each other, yet this greater being fed them its flesh.
Meanwhile tensions with the humans continued to rise. The newest vissages came across as extremely uncanny. Not only was the sight of a discolored human affixed to pillars of slime horrifying, the invading overtly-forced-presence of calm was seen as something of a distraction. Like a predator trying to lure prey into a trap. Obviously, many humans thought, the fate of the one before them was all they would have to look forward to if they worked with this strange primal. Unanimously they wanted nothing to do with it. Few humans would negotiate with the vissages at all, usually electing to outright attack them, and those who did listen explained that they did not want the god to take any more islands. With some of the newly acquired scouts, mostly birds and larger fish, Sudurtaf could see long and far the many islands that surrounded it. Particularly noticeable however was that far to the east an exceptionally large island, far more colossal than any of the others, stretched out in all directions. The mainland had been found. Yet in all of these findings there was strong evidence of humans living in the area. The columns of smoke had indeed been from human campfires, and every island contained at least a few bands of the creatures. Curiously however, on the more familiar islands Sudurtaf could see the bands moving more centrally, all of them seeming to congregate in a smaller area. On one occasion Sudurtaf even witnessed a human from one band coming to speak with another, and then shortly after watched as they all packed up and set off for the center of the island. Faintly Sudurtaf could even feel something shifting in the Astral Plane, and it seemed to grate and burn the god’s very being.
But now it is late Spring, and with it comes the strong storms that always blow during this time of year. However this season there is something different. The natural energies of the world that leak from the ground seem particularly strong as they rise into the atmosphere. There is something far more pure, far more primal, about them than usual, and one day they feed into an exceptionally strong thunderstorm. The rains that fall heavily from the the gray howling sky beat against Sudurtaf’s solar ceilings, and the winds tug at the god’s tower. The lasufam had recently finished restructuring itself, becoming made of flesh and blood, water and iron, and with these changes it became a giant lightning rod. And as the storm filled with raw primal energies, the tower served this new purpose well. A bolt of energy shot out from the storm, illuminating the world in a white shadow. It stabbed the tower full of astral essence, and like a snake injected its venom. The two types of energy, primal and astral, melded with one another, becoming something even more pure. Something uncontainable. The lasufam swelled in an instant, and for a moment seemed as though it might hold together, the softer flesh bubbling out between lines of stronger tendons, until finally it burst. The explosion rang out, and in an instant it devoured its way down the tower. The shock wave that belched from it swept through the jungle, peeling back the ceiling and cooking everything caught in its way. In only a few moments a third of the island was destroyed, made into a burnt husk of charred bodies and skeletal trees. New Abilities: - Sudurtaf has two boosts to put towards changing its followers bodies and intelligence. However, they have reached their maximum Potential Astral Content.
(I’m basing this off the end goals you mentioned in your PM. Currently they breed 30x faster than humans, and have 1/7th the life span, meaning they can grant a maximum of .23x per worshiper.)
19.) Eotyrannus - {Unnamed Primal} Power: 12 Time Elapsed: One month Current Season: Early Summer Life. A young spider had found itself hopelessly swept up into the high skies, but as fate had it a storm was brewing. Not any storm, but a primal storm, spurred on by the powerful energies that made the world what it was. These energies worked themselves into the spider, and granted it the essences of wind, water, cloud, and lightning. And with its newfound strength it fell, tumbling several kilometers through the air, before it finally crashed into the sea. Most creatures would have died, but not a primal. Death. When the storm drifted away, carrying its dangerous lighting to distant islands and towers, humans came by on their fishing raft. They caught the primal, happily thinking it was a catch of fish, and were surprised when it ate one of them. With their blood it gained the essence of man, and with it intelligence and reason. And then it left, flying high into the air of toward another island. Now? The lesser primal finds itself in an unfamiliar place. The skies still ripple with residual energies, left over from what spawned the storm and itself, but the ground is full of life, both animal and plants. The sea itself is shallow and warm, reefs grow in it, and fish thrive beneath the waves. There are even more human upon the islands. Yet to the far north and west the essence of strong ground beckons, though the essences of the islands shine to the east and south. There is potential to be had. Essences and Abilities:
- Spider
- Wind
- Water
- Cloud
- Lightning
- Human
- You will gain some of the essence from things you absorb, though it will be limited for now.
- You can perform very small abilities based on the essences you have acquired.
20.) Citrakayah - Forestsong Power: 5 0.5 Per Month: 0.5 (+.5 Territory) Time Elapsed: One month Current Season: Early Summer The Forestsong was a thing both young and old. The essences that formed it had existed for hundreds of years, and as such it was a very diverse primal indeed. Yet it was always a lesser primal, never able to fully choose what essences it had domain over, and it only ever passively absorbed them on the off chance. It was not until humans entered its domain that it was fully aware of itself, having gently sipped some of their essence and gaining intelligence. But now Forestsong found that they did not want it. There were however fruit bats in ample supply, which it was easily able to imbue with some of its own power. Though this weakened the Forestsong, the creatures became loyal to it. Fortunately however the Forestsong was one with this piece of the jungle. This was its territory, and essence flowed more freely for it here. It would easily be able to recuperate in time. Yet this newfound life would be a thing of challenge. Humans had granted the Forestsong its current understanding of life, but now it seemed they were leeching this from it. Their presence in its territory, their cutting of plants, their eating of most things, they drained from the land. The Forestsong would gain less primal energy from its small territory so long as they were here. Essences and Abilities:
- Water
- Wind
- Sun
- Tropical plants
- Tropical Mammals
- Clouds
- Humans
- You will gain some of the essence from things you absorb, though it will be limited for now.
- You can perform very small abilities based on the essences you have acquired.
[1] 1x = Roughly human level intelligence.
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Citrakayah
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May 18 2016, 01:18 AM
Post #3
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Dispersion can be a tricky thing. Oftentimes, it is determined by chance alone which plant will survive to maturity, let alone which lands where. Or it used to be, but now the Forestsong has access to wind and water, and the sun. Plant seeds and pollen are selectively blown outside the area the Forestsong controls, and encouraged to grow. The bats are asked to disperse the seeds in their feces outside the area under her influence--and they are asked to tell her what they see. Curiosity is a powerful thing.
Meanwhile, the Forestsong tries to set up an experiment. By having a large stone glow brightly during the day and very dimly at night, small plants are induced to grow around it. The Forestsong takes different species and tries to link them together, starting with the ones most closely related. The goal is not to create some monster plant with characteristics of multiple species. Rather, she wants to see if she can simply forge a connection. After all, imagine how much she could learn if the entire rainforest were her senses.
And lastly, there is the matter of the humans. She does not want to harm them, and she wants to respect their wishes. But she will not be eaten alive by them.
Plant seeds are moved, yet again, into specific places by wind and water--but this time the Forestsong's placing is far more precise. Specific areas are seeded with different plant species. Some are fast-growing, creating barriers to human movement. The water and wind help with this. Rivers might be molded to be more difficult to transverse.
But making the forest simply inhospitable won't do. The Forestsong doesn't want the humans to leave, after all, she just wants them to not hurt her. So the plants in specific areas produce good fruit, and the ones that are less useful or dangerous tend to die. The result will be specific areas set aside for humans to live in, and barriers preventing them from getting easily to the true heart of the Forestsong.
[To be continued...]
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Eotyrannus
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May 18 2016, 10:19 AM
Post #4
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Supreme God of Fishcakes
- Posts:
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- Deity Name
- Last Parent
- Deity Profile Link
- http://s15.zetaboards.com/Deus_Plani/single/?p=8147285&t=7870106
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For the first time in a long time, Last Parent was feeling like everything was under control.
Not everything was, of course. The god was not omnipotent or omniscient. But there were no outside factors, only its people and their interaction with the world, and that was something Last Parent could work with. It would be its own work, its own mistakes and failures, its own path to victory.
The first issue was obvious- its people were, compared to the humans, unbelievably promiscuous.
Making them less promiscuous, having them lay fewer eggs, would be a simple task. With their parents' newfound care, cannibalism was the primary killer of young fry, which- although absolutely necessary, much like the pain the human females underwent after their larvae had finished gestating- was also somewhat excessive. Last Parent could safely reduce their egg-laying from 50,000 eggs per nest to 2,000. The effect would be two-fold- the snakeheads females would require much less food before laying, and some of the excess material otherwise used for more eggs could be used in increasing resistance to egg-rot, the other major killer of fry.
Still, this wouldn't have an enormous effect on the absurd growth rate of the people-snakeheads' population. Last Parent was nothing if not resourceful, though. The Kinsense, inherent to all of its children, was something already shared between them. It could be added to.
The Astral weaved the strands of magic, connecting them to the snakeheads' basest functions- their basal brains, their hormones. Subconscious knowledge would be provided and shared via the Kinsense, altering its childrens' normal biological systems in response to the environment.
Kinsense would not be just a sense for seeing Kin, but one for allowing the population to react to danger on both a biological and subconscious level. Right now, that primarily meant a further reduction in laying rates, and a general reduction in metabolically-expensive behaviour. This breeding season would be notably more subdued than normal, unfortunately, but that was a price that had to be paid.
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Alternative food sources were also an attractive proposition. On one of the less inhabited areas of water, where the fish stocks were still great enough to allow for experimentation, Last Parent and and a Kin named Huntfowl had been learning new methods of hunting. As Huntfowl's name suggested, he had been learning how to hunt birds.
Ambushing them at the waterside was the most successful tactic, although it required forethought- unlike a crocodile, the people-snakeheads could not see above the water's surface easily. On the other hand, their magic gave them a much longer reach than their snouts would suggest, and a few birds had been caught only because of Huntfowl's firm magical grip.
Other tactics were more... exploratory. Leaping over and onto ducks was less likely to result in being battered by the wings, but required that he lead his lunges, which was a tricky concept to master. And Last Parent's idea of using telekinesis to drag himself forwards through the air and through a bird nest had resulted in the person-snakehead having to wiggle out from between the nest's tree-fork, although the fish had escaped with a chick before the parent birds had figured out what on earth was going on.
That was a stopgap measure, though. Last Parent's main tactic had been working on actually making the fish stocks recover before things became dire.
With careful application of its control over the waters of the earth and the sky, the Astral god had been creating areas of ideal conditions for fish to live. Not snakeheads, though- the intention was for the fish to spread out from the pools, letting them breed much faster than if they had been constantly hunted by the Kin. Giant terrapins and freshwater snails were, despite not being fish, especially encouraged- one day their shells might make them valuable for more than just food. Small whitespot fish were also encouraged due to their hardiness, and swamp eels were kept around as well (although in less numbers due to being inefficient prey). For now, these pools would be kept unhunted.
The Kin would be told that, despite their hunger, feeding in them would only make their hunger worse in the long run- and although they were not to be chased out, anything that left the pools was suitable prey. The humans were likely to take the restrictions as an insult, and cause more damage than necessary, so Last Parent put its weaverbirds to work. They would tend to the pools, and weave together images- fish spreading into the rest of the river, a pool pierced by a fishing spear being sundered and broken- and screech or peck at any humans that ignored them.
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Last Parent's awareness of the world around it was also increasing. It could see further- from the streams on the slopes of the World-Towers to the border of the Great Water. It was... interesting, to say the least. But the god's manipulations of the weather were already in use, so lesser methods had to be used to scout the Water that the people-snakeheads would one day call their own.
The salt of the Water was problematic, but other beings there had their solutions. The humans simply stayed out of it, and theoretically the Kin could float a vessel of fresh water atop it, but that was unlikely to be practical.
Instead, it looked at other natives- in particular a strange kind of marine mammal. Its solution was of interest to Last Parent. They kept air in their lungs, but only in small pockets, compared to the great cavities a human would call a lung. Their nasal passages lay upon the tops of their heads, so that they could take in the air without tasting salt. Their ribs collapsed inwards under pressure to keep the air from being pressed into their blood, and their heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Most interestingly, no water flowed through them- they were sealed but for the food they ate.
Perhaps those features could be used. In the meantime, Last Parent began to interact with these strange beings. The humans called them 'porpoises'. An odd word, but apt.
As for the rest of the visible world, the god took to weaving messages atop offerings for the humans to use. Hints, to help them prepare their food stocks for the harsh season ahead. Last Parent was npt quite trusting enough in their common sense to speak directly, as it would for the Kin, but their art would be appreciated and reciprocated.
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The Astral watched its birthplane carefully. Cargazar would probably return at some point, and would probably be visible here, but the Astral Plane was more concerning. The god was not quite aware why, but...
It would need its children to be strong. To face good times with joy. To face hard times with resolution. And to face dark times with righteous anger
It would teach them:
"Strength- when your belly is full and the water is sweet, it is to dance, to play and to share your mirth; when your belly is growling and the water is stagnant, it is to be vigilant, to listen to your breath and to help your fellows; when your belly is empty and the water is gone, it is to take refuge in the safety of your comrade, the force of your jaw and the throbbing of your heart.
"To give up, to refuse your right to make things better, is not strength. It is to sink. Strength is the acceptance that to make things better is a choice. You may still falter. You may still sink. But that is why your Kin are with you- so that you may float each other when it would otherwise be impossible."
The true meaning of its words would probably not be understood for a long time. The Kin, as a whole, had never truly been in the soul-wearing despair that these teachings would fight. But they would help.
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Teuthis
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May 22 2016, 03:29 PM
Post #5
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Metamorphosis
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- 69
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- Global Moderators
- Member
- #20
- Joined:
- January 25, 2015
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The deaths of so many Myriad hit the swarm hard. Whilst they felt no emotional attachment, there was a significant notice in the decline in productivity, and the lack of members also led to a breakdown of communication and unity. With sects forming above and below ground, the swarm felt itself divide from the inside, and before long the essence of the Myriad began to rework itself into beginning to heal the wound.
Workers began to increase the width of tunnels to communal areas both above and below ground, reinforcing the structures with organic mortar. The younger subterranean and hunters could now interact on neutral territory, with any disputes dealt with quickly by the working castes.
Myriad variation was not stomped out; instead, the swarm utilised its new essences experimentally, with individual swarm members gaining an assortment of limb shapes and forms. The newer generations found their bauplans focused on compartmentalisng themselves, using various joints and bones to pack their bodies tightly to themselves, or extend their appendages when needed.
The essences of the ground benefited the myriad greatly, as workers consumed the dead subterranean myriads and passed their essences to the others of the swarm. Larvae could extend fibrous growths into the earth, siphoning nutrients from nearby plants. Their exoskeletons became more like rock than chitin, and those with greater proficiency with earth essences were isolated to explore its potential.
The subterranean myriads were allowed to keep their larders; their tunnels would be the future of the swarm, and without their architects being well fed, the Myriad would perish. However, some hunters were moved below ground to ensure the larders were not replenished with the food of other individuals.
The hunters that had forged themselves, however, did not go unpunished. They had selfishly hoarded essence that was not for them alone, and whilst they slept the workers returned their essence and biomass to the swarm.
TL;DR - The greedy hunters were consumed by the swarm, giving Neanderthal essence to the swarm members - subterranean myriad are allowed to keep their larders, so long as they continue to dig tunnels for the swarm - tunnels to communal areas are widened, whilst food sections are kept small; tunnellers now rely on workers for food. - new myriad adults take essences and become more diverse in physiology - myriad 'experiments' with earth essence
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T0r4c
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Jun 2 2016, 06:27 PM
Post #6
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Eldest of The Nine
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- 50
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- Global Moderators
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- January 16, 2015
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Palankiin sits with the Neanderthals who remain awake as the sun sets over the cold forest. He ponders as he watches them. The fire spirits begin to dance among Palankiin’s new family, warming the members as they rest. On the morrow, after the morning hunting and gathering, Palankiin gathers his family. “Brothers, sisters; we are all one, and this means also the spirits that help us.”
Four small spirits appear in front of him; each a different colour.
“We all are fond of the fire spirit, who has helped us through many moons; but there are others I wish to show you and how they can help us.”
The spirit of water held out its tiny arm; and from it, a trickle of water poured out. Palankiin cupped his hands and sipped at the water. “The spirits of water can provide us with drink, while also helping the next spirit.” He explained, holding out the tree spirit.
The spirit hovered over to a nearby bush and began to dance around and through it. As it danced, small clusters of berries began to form. “The tree spirits will help us gather food. Who better to tell us which bushes can be harvested from than the very spirits of the bushes?’
Finally, the earth spirit dived into the ground. After a few moments, the earth began to move, lift and compact into rocks the size of a fist; these then piled in front of Palankiin. “Our brothers and sisters of the earth will be able to aid us in forming stones to make shelters with, and keep us from the cold with the help of the fire spirits." He paused for a moment and took out some of the trinkets that the Neanderthals had made for him. “These gifts you have given me; the spirits are quite fond of them, especially the hollowed ones as I have seen many of them sleeping within them. I would ask that you make more of these, not for me, but for the spirits so that they may reside within them, as we do our shelters.”
Palankiin then watched the Neanderthals reaction before getting to his feet. “Now, I would like some of you to practice helping our brother and sister spirits. The rest will hunt with me.”
Over several nights; as the family moved in search of food, Palankiin could be found sat alone, thinking. Every time, he would be looking in the direction of the Great Tree; and he would mutter the words “I’m sorry, my child.”
On the 14th day, Palankiin gathered the family. “Brothers, sisters; some of you know of a Great Tree within this forest. For those of you who don’t, one of our own, the First Spirit is sleeping, waiting for us to awaken it. I ask of you to return to the Great Tree with me, and awaken our brother. Over time, we have grown strong and with the spirits we are even stronger. Let us create a place we can call home with this strength. Please, help me return to my child, and together we can make a place where our children can grow up safe and not have to struggle for food.”
TL;DR - Showed the Neanderthals the abilities of the other spirits. -Water: Create small puddles of drinkable water. -Tree: Can cause fruit and berries to grow from trees and bushes. -Earth: Can create rocks and cause them to levitate slowly and not too far from the ground.
- Asked the Neanderthals to help him return to the Great Tree, and make a home for themselves there.
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Oyster Man
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Jun 14 2016, 06:12 PM
Post #7
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Master of Biscuit Technology
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- Admins
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- January 14, 2015
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2.)Conriocht, 13.) Starlora - Luna de Vinter (part 2) It was a gray night, the moon shrouded behind a blanket of clouds, when the Dodsfald was first heard. Later she was seen stumbling in between the trees, moaning and shrieking for her missing child. Long thorny tendrils of underbrush snagged at her, licking shallow cuts into her legs, before the plants shriveled to the ground under a thin layer of ice. If she felt any pain she hid it behind her other wails and cries, though there was no one around for her to speak to. Icy sleet was falling from the storm she carried with her when she stepped out from behind the tree line into a small clearing that had been cut to bring fuel to the bonfires. A large dire wolf let out a long mournful howl, and soon other wolves joined in, the smaller wolves’ howls climbing higher in pitch above their cousins. Even the coyotes joined in the chorus, their own yips firing into the colorless night, before being joined Grok and the others. The whole world was a cacophony of the Dodsfald’s moanings, the disjointed song of the Pantheon, and the howling beat of sleet and wind. But then the howls turned to savage snarls. One by one the wolves and coyotes pounced from their waiting spots, pouring into the clearing. The Dodsfald paid them no mind as they rapidly closed on her. As she shambled over the dark tree stumps they slid like river water between the obstacles. A lithe coyote arrived first, darting in and nipping at the Dodsfald’s ankles, before shrieking and flailing backwards. The end of its snout had instantly frozen, turning its tongue stiff and bright pink. However, seeming oblivious to this, more hounds charged in, driven on by a frenzy from their god. For every animal that fell away whimpering, another two leapt towards the Dodsfald. Yet as the rear of the hounds approached their sprint began to stifle, and their tails sank between their legs. Their attacks were doing little to stop the creature, and not even the mighty dire wolves moved after the creature simply shrugged them off. Their ears fell as they began to whimper and double take between the Dodsfald and the camp. Gradually they realized there was nothing they could do to stop the creature, but, while some of the meaker animals among them fled, others waited with the assembled neanderthals of their pack, unwilling to leave. Grok’s fist tightened around the wooden pole in his hand as he looked to the people assembled before him. Some he recognized. Some he did not. But they knew what they must do. The Dodsfald was stumbling directly towards them. “Mother guide me!” He shouted, before charging onwards with the crescent staff in his hand, his blood quartz necklace bouncing around his neck. The other neanderthals ran with him, sprinting across the clearing. In an instant he and the others were closing in around the Dodsfald, fanning out and making a large semi-circle around it. Amazingly this made the creature pause, it’s jaws chattering as it sucked in a great wheeze of air. Her pale eyes locked onto Grok’s. “Where is my child?” “We don’t have it!” “I need my child! Give me my-” A tremendous bark cut the Dodsfald off. Instantly Grok was thrown backwards through the air, flying for several long moments before plunging harmlessly into the blanket of soft snow. It took him several more moments to stand up and wipe the hold stuff from his eyes. His head was ringing, but he still clutched the staff in his hands. Grok could see the others in the sides of his vision, but his gaze was stolen by the sight before him. A shaft of moonlight tore through the clouds to reveal a giant man-shaped wolf standing where he and the others had been, big as a mammoth and with a pair of owl’s wings sprouting from its shoulders. In its taloned hands it clutched the giant spear the camp had been crafting, which was driven through the Dodsfald’s chest. She hung their oddly, her body curved backwards supported by the stake running through her chest, while her feet draped weightlessly to the ground. Moon Mother was before them, Grok realized, now merged with the Vinter Ulv. Yet the gods were shaking, growling through their wolfish maw as a bluish white light blossomed from their arms. With a consistency almost like water, the light ran down the gods’ arms and flowed into the spear. The Dodsfald also clutcher her hands around the spear as her eyes and mouth opened in a loud exhale. More light bloomed from her as well, and merged with that from the gods. There it seemed to turn to fire that spilled out over both beings. The Dodsfald began to shriek, yet somehow more shrilly than it ever had before. Even the merged god let out a loud howl. Grok felt very cold, as wind whipped past his ears. It was like everything was being sucked into the bright blue-white fire in front of him. Grok’s eyes then became very heavy, and he found himself starting to nod off. In the corner of his fading vision he saw some of the others fall to their knees. Memories starting blurring across his eyes. He thought of Shera, how she almost died but now was safe. He smiled. Faintly he thought it was odd. Before these things had happened in his chest, but now they were in his fingers. And what of that thing. The Dodsfald? Before it had seemed so important. But why? So little made sense, and he just wanted to sleep. Grok fell down, face forward. He was so very cold now, but the snow was soft. He could see his breath pulling from his mouth and nose, and thought it looked vaguely like a white trout swimming through the water. For a moment he started to wonder what was happening, yet he was soooocalm. Suddenly night became day. The fire that had consumed the gods lanced upwards into the sky, leaving a long jagged alabaster streak. There was a loud clap of something not unlike lightning. Then there was nothing.
The Dodsfald was a mighty being in its own right, far more powerful than even the combined two gods. Yet for all its strength, it trode upon dangerous ground. It was a being made of both astral and primal essence, a thing which should not be. Though it actively sought out astral energy, the ambient primal energies of the world were constantly drawn to it like a magnet. The very essences that made the world what it was were pried from the bodies that stored them, and swallowed by the Dodsfald. There they were converted into astral energies and fed into the astral plane, just as any other conduit, but in their absence the physical world grew cold. When it devoured the Astral Essence from the two gods, the Dodsfald was overwhelmed. It could not stop eating, and so it created a vacuum of energy. As other energy began to flow towards it, both primal and astral, it could not keep to two different energies within it separated. When the two energies bonded with each other the ensuing reaction was extremely volatile. The strange energy that erupted from the merged Astral and Primal energy exploded outward, cascading, growing and shrinking, and destroying everything within its wake. When the blinding light faded away, and the merged gods could see again, they were the only thing left alive in the nearby area, and now a ghostly blue light tethered the ground to the sky: a scar between the two planes. The ground was as cold as ice, and would be for many years to come. Nothing would grow on the burned ground for a generation, the gods knew. The wolves and coyotes were dead or fled. Though the Neanderthals back at the camp survived, the natural cliff face shielding them from the blast, the fifty who had assembled to fight the Dodsfald were gone. Only the gods remained. Vinter Ulv and Moon Mother, sharing the same highly weakened body, and the Dodsfald. The Dodsfald stared at the spear running through her chest, panting heavily somehow. Her hands reached out in front of her to clasp around its shaft, though obviously removing it would be a futile effort. Her eyes were strangely alive, and the ever present miasma of morose depression about her was accompanied by fear. It’s was obvious she was dying, yet something was different about her now. “What-” she began, “what happened? Where am I?” (The Dodsfald may be spoken to.) Update:Worshipers: 159 166 Vinter Ulv:~126 ( 50 adult males, 50 adult women, 25 children, Malekan) 50 Moon Mother ~34 Shera, Selena, 12 adult female, 12 adult male, 7 children) Power: 37.22 249.78 Vinter Ulv 233.5 (210 adult[1.5x] + 19.5 child[.75x] + 3 Malekan) + 1 physical god) 92.07 Moon Mother: 74.25 ( 9 prophets[3x], 60 adults[1.5x], 5.25 children[.75x]) 17.82 Moon Mother Multipliers: 17.82 (5.94 blood sacrifice and prayer[.08x], 5.94 Crescent Moon Staff [.08x], 5.94 Monthly Requispirita [.08x]) 384.69 General Multipliers: (307.75 Desperation[1x], 46.16 Holy Weapon[.15x], 24.62 idols[.08x], 6.16 protective trinkets [.02x]) -707.14 Aftermath: -707.14 (All[.95x]) New Miracles/Abilities:
- The phases of the moon can be made to look however Moon Mother wishes within her domain, and clouds can be pulled away so that it always shines.
- Both gods can come together to form into the “wolf-owl” though only for short periods of time. In this form abilities and miracles will be more powerful.
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MrHands
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Jul 1 2016, 09:39 AM
Post #8
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Lord of Caelecti
- Posts:
- 125
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- Global Moderators
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- #3
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- January 16, 2015
- Deity Name
- Saldrenius
- Deity Profile Link
- http://s15.zetaboards.com/Deus_Plani/single/?p=8147411&t=7870106
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Caelecti “I can’t take it anymore,” Mumbled a member of Altani’s clan.
It had been months since she had lost her brothers to the Uyoi, months since she was bound and forced to watch them be sacrificed, one after the other. In the months since then her body was pushed from work and tested by the scratches and sores that came from it. Though she healed faster than the slaves that didn’t worship Saldrenius followers and her body had grown accustomed to the strain that her work put on her, she like others was filled with dread between her times of work. She had finally been brought to a tipping point this evening, and she could not hold herself from grief. She looked to the shadows as her body began to shake with stifled sobs.
“We were told we could win,” She said loud enough for everyone else in the slave pen could hear, “that Saldrenius could easily defeat the Uyoi. That we would be free of history repeating itself, we would make our history as Saldrenius said we could, but he couldn’t beat them. We trusted in him and he failed us.”
“He threw us into this conflict” said another bitterly, “He sent our children across the river and he killed Uyoi and he provoked them to fight us. I wish we had run sooner, then maybe we would be free.”
As Altani heard this she began to feel a burning hatred rise from her gut. Things had been hard on her as well. She was only twelve and was expected to care for a clan of demoralized women and children. She tried her best to lead by example, never complaining about her work and ignoring the stares she got when they saw the scars she got from burning her wounds closed. Altani had worked hard, doing more than was expected so that when others lagged behind they would not all be beaten for being slow. All her work had put a strain on her emotions that she only managed to relieve by relaxing next to the small fire that warmed the slave pits. Today though, Altani’s stress had been brought to a boiling point by these two, and she pounded her fist on the floor in anger as she shot the two woman a murderous look. Before she could say anything though she felt a tug in her heart, and she winced.
“Calm yourself Altani,” Saldrenius whispered gently in her head, “You do not need to answer words directed at me today.”
From the small fire, three closed eyes were formed from tongues of flame. Slowly they opened and stared at the woman who had earlier spoken ill of him.
“P-please” said one with a voice full of fear, “I only said such things because of stress. Don’t-“
“I will not kill or maim someone who simply speaks ill of me,” Saldrenius said sternly, “words should be answered with words, not blows.”
The fire grew taller and the eyes looked down at the women.
“I understand why you have said such things and I know you speak what others also think. Still, though I know your position, I do not condone such speech.”
The eyes turned to the one who spoke of running.
“You speak like a coward and your actions, and those of all who have ran, reflect that. I know it was because of the urgings of a Maise that you ran, and so you are not entirely to blame as the pressure to appease the last wish of a dead man is great, but that decision was your own. I told you that running would only increase the chances of your slaughter, when I said that though you must not have realized that I meant the clan as a whole. So when more than half of you ran, you can imagine what that did to the chances of victory for your family members that stayed as well as your own chances. Even beyond your lack of understanding for what I meant, the fact that you did not heed my words but instead choose those of a dying man over my own you showed even more foolishness. I told you, when I asked that you burn the bones of your the slain children and sibling who died thanks to the Uyoi, that you had to let go of the past since things had changed since then. The ways of the past no longer worked, the leadership of the elders was something of the past, a method that could not function with your current situation. You held onto it though, perhaps not realizing what I meant by that statement, and listened to Maise. I do not think that Maise was expecting the outcome that happened, he intended for everyone to live. Intentions don’t make up for his foolishness though, and though I do not wish to further spit on his name I must give him some of the blame. Still, you should know that you and every other person who ran are in the end responsible for what happened. You halved your combat power and that of those who stayed by abandoning me and them at the camp, making your chances of fighting the Uyoi incredibly slim.”
Those that had stayed to fight began to stare their clan members down. Any commotion in the pens stopped and all that could be heard was the wind and the crackling of fire. Altani gritted her teeth, calm became hard to find while she listened to Saldrenius’ words. The three eyes in the fire grew smaller and Saldrenius’ full form could now be seen in the fire. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
“This is in your case though, and blame doesn’t belong only to those who ran. Those that stayed to fight made a few fatal mistakes. When they went to attack the Uyoi from outside their base they didn’t think to scout the enemy and when they waited for a chance to strike in the bushes they didn’t pay attention to their surroundings and allowed themselves to be caught off guard. In the end the strength of the Uyoi or of Zenwatoon didn’t decide the outcome, your poor decisions did. You blundered by rushing to fight the enemy and were injured thanks to it, and then you were put in a hopeless situation. I tried to improve your odds by having you move out of the camp, as staying in it would likely just lead to you being starved out, but you blundered there too. My blessings are not to make it so that you simply win without effort, they are to make winning more likely. I cannot help you win if you are foolish and harm your own chances to the degree that you did so months ago. It is like healing wounds, you can burn a cut so it no longer bleeds but when you are stabbed through your abdomen then you cannot hope to burn it closed.”
Those that stayed to fight stopped staring down their clan members and instead looked to the floor, ashamed. Altani’s shoulders hung low, and she shook her head, sobbing. Salder and I should have known better.
“In the end though, the blame does not matter to me. What matters is the result, your enslavement. You should not hate each other for what happened, it will not do anyone any good. Those that flee should apologize to those that stayed to fight, and those meant to lead should apologize to me. The best way to say sorry though, is to simply try harder in the now. Do better for each other, do the right thing for each other and don’t give in to despair. Night gives way to day, and sadness will give way to joy. Things look bleak now and maybe hopeless, but with time you will find a better life. The way can change, the destination will be the same, and with every passing day your destination draws closer.”
Altani shifted from sitting on the ground to prostrating herself before the fire.
“I am sorry to you Saldrenius,” she said, “I will do better from now on. And to my family I am sorry too, I will do better for you from now on. I do not know much about leading but I will trust in Saldrenius to guide me just like I hope you will trust in me to guide you.”
Saldrenius smiled, opened his eyes and bowed his head to Altani.
“I accept your apology my Prophet. I will teach you and those in this village many things in the following days. In exchange I only ask for your faith and that you trust that everything I have done was for a better life.”
He lifted his head and looked at the slaves that believed in him. His smile grew slightly smaller.
“When you failed to do as I said, when you spent your time considering whether or not to act as I instructed you only hurt yourselves. I once explained to your elders that I had helped Salder because if I didn’t your children would have died. Without my blessings they would have died and the Uyoi that were hunting would have found you and you would have been slaves far earlier. I do not tell you to do things because they are simply good for me. I only benefit when you do, your misery is not my boon.”
Saldrenius closed his eyes and began to fade.
“Those that follow me are precious to me. All who worship me are loved by me for they have chosen me. They are Caelecti, they will be rewarded for their faith. They will see more from their work and they will be blessed for their dedication.”
Saldrenius then disappeared and the fire flickered normally, though its flames remained larger. The slaves in the pen felt a pleasant warmth wrap around them. Altani relaxed in it, and slowly fell asleep.
Conversation with Zenwatoon After his followers had fallen asleep Saldrenius sent a single focused message into the astral plane.
"My lord Zenwatoon, your subordinate begs for an audience so he may learn from you"
Within the privacy of the Astral Plane Zenwatoon appeared before Saldrenius, brandishing the Astral Spear and rolling it between its wounded thumb and forefinger. "Ah, so the god of fools has some wisdom after all. Be quick. What do you desire to know?"
"As your servant I wish to learn how best to serve in this society. So I ask you, what are your goals for this society, and what can I do to help achieve them."
"Goals for my... society. Yes. It is simple really. All are to know of my glory, so that I may bask within their worship. Fear is the most potent, and I do find its flavor pleasing. Their death and suffering is of no concern to me so long as they know my might. I have promised Machiren and his line prosperity and eternal life so long as they serve me in this, and the warriors of my Uyoi I gift with victory in battle. Your slaves know that all too well.
As for your role in this, I seek only to learn more about these "Astrals" of which you speak. I have lorded over these lands for more than a hundred years and never seen another such as myself, but I knew I could not be the only one. You stand testament to that, inferior as you are. You shall serve to show me what another is capable of. Should you ever become troublesome I will put you down, and in the end I will learn much of what kind is capable of. Beyond that, tend to the slaves. Keep them alive so that they may feed my Uyoi."
"Thank you master, if you wish we could discuss Astral Plane and our understanding of it."
"Hmm," Zenwatoon contemplated. "Perhaps. Tell me, Saldrenius, what do you know of this realm?"
"That we gain power from the reverence of humans. That humans are the best conduit for our kind but not the only one. I can change boars into other creatures, so I doubt my power would work on them if they did not have a small nugget of astral content, or something close to that. From this I theorize that other astrals can use animals as their source of worship; though I would assume social animals are preferred since a large group provides more energy than a small one. It would seem that we are meant to develop large societies, since our nature drives us to want more power and we gain power from worship." Saldrenius paused. "I believe we are supposed to elevate humans beyond their familial blood ties, bind them with an ambition or perhaps an idea, something that would make them accept others and allow them to create massive societies. To do that we have miracles and intelligence beyond their own, allowing us to guide and shape them as we see fit."
"Ha," Zenwatoon scoffed, "I suppose I should have known you can turn swine into people, as you have already done with those wretches my Uyoi enslaved. Still, this does intrigue me. And I also suppose that I should not be surprised to learn you think you were created with a purpose. Being a lesser being you could not understand what it means to be a proper god. I was not created, as nothing came before me. I am the first true god. I have no purpose, as I was not created from some non-existent greater being, and my Uyoi exist solely to..."
Zenwatoon's voice trailed off as his fingers tensed. "Of course I have a purpose. I am a god. My people exist to serve me. I do not lead them, or have some obscure additional intelligence, because..." A snort of anger bellowed from Zenwatoon's mass. "Because I do not need to! I am a god! You are not! Your people are pigs, and my Uyoi will know this!"
"As you wish master, if you have further questions or are interested in any other theories I have on our nature, feel free to ask them of me. I am your servant after all."
Instantly Zenwatoon twisted, his last three fingers stiff in a backhanded slap. Had there been a floor in the Astral Plane, Saldrenius would have been sent sprawling to it.
"You will watch your serpent's tongue, lest I pull it from your filthy lips," Zenwatoon roared! "Do not think I don't hear the intonations of your words! I AM a god, and you will treat me as such! I demand it! Swine! SWINE! You are less than your pig slaves! What fools they are to worship such a worthless god!"
Zenwatoon seemed to seethe even more. "I will not suffer this insolence! I will not tolerate it! I will have retribution! We make a display! You will tell the people, yours and mine, how your people are swines! Tell them of my superiority, how you are lesser than I!"
"How do you think that would look," Saldrenius began as he snapped his jaw back into place. "My people are clearly human. Forcing me to tell a lie so obviously false would only confuse and demoralize the people who lost family fighting them. Besides I meant no offense by my words, only to imply that I am more yours than your Uyoi seem to be. I shall explain my inferiority though, for that is no lie, you have years beyond mine, and with that power. You are like the bear, and I am like the cub."
"I am no bear. You are no cub. You will never grow to be as I." Zenwatoon sighed, disarmed of his rage. Though he would never admit to saying Saldrenius was right, it was obvious he realized his blunder. "And what is it you mean? You say you are more loyal than my Uyoi? I cannot see how, they fear me and they serve me. What more is there to be had from them?"
"The society they have developed benefits them the most." Saldrenius explained. "You gain worship and sacrifices, but how much of that goes to the Uyoi? How much food is given to them? If the peasants and slaves had more food, they could grow their population more and thus create more worship for you. If you didn't give them eternal life and prosperity you could focus your power into instilling more fear and expanding your borders. The Uyoi may be faithful at first glance, but looking deeper reveals the treachery. They are unnecessary and replaceable with a less costly force."
Zenwatoon stayed silent for a moment. "You mean my honor guard, the line of Machiren. Indeed, they have luxury compared to the peasents, but only so that they may stay strong and enforce my will. They lend physicality to my ethereal nature, and through them all know my glory. Yet despite this, even the peasants are a part of my Uyoi. Uyoi is simply the name they gave themselves, to differentiate my loyal from the slaves and... hmmm" the giant hand paused. "In truth even I do not know from where the name originated, nor what it means. " Zenwatoon said, as if this lack of knowledge meant nothing to him.
"None the less," Zenwatoon continued, "both the honor guard and the peasents are my Uyoi. All but the slaves and unconquered peoples are. They do not starve, and under my rein my Uyoi have grown enough to plant new settlements. There is no treachery. True, the only ones with any sort of love for me are the line of Machiren, but they know that without me, a true god, they are nothing. They would be as the lesser folk, the peasents and slaves. But I have no care of this. So long as the lesser of my stock fear me, and the greater of my stock ensure they always do, I have no need of anything else. The rest falls in order naturally while I bask."
Zenwatoon paused, seemingly pleased with himself. "Though I suppose there is some trouble in the great oaf, Stone One. He dares not harm my Uyoi, lest he face my wrath, though he scares away the game from my hunters. His presence does make expansion difficult. Were it not for the crops there would be little food for my Uyoi. Yet my people persevere, and in time I shall kill him."
"It seems we think in different ways," Saldrenius said, "perhaps I will learn to think as you one day Master." The Astral paused, looking the hand up and down. "Is there anything else to really talk about?"
"Ha," Zenwatoon scoffed, "you could never dream to be so fortunate. I came here as a kindness to my slave. Now with that done, I still expect you to tell my people and your slaves of my superiority. Come, let us go."
A gust of wind blew across the fields during the day's labours. Saldrenius stood before the slaves and the peasants, his body looming over them . A single long exhale came dutifully from his body. "Zenwatoon has demanded I call him superior. This is a truth, he has taken strength from babe and from your fear. My strength is from praise and respect, and all I gather I simply give back. I have no strength of my own, for it belongs to you."
"Be-leaf" "That is Heavy labour, harvesting. Harder than hunting or foraging." Saldrenius whispered to Mughe, the female Uyoi peasant who had heard of Saldrenius, and praised him in awe.
She flinched, reeling deeper into her families hut. Her breathing became short and sharp as fear began mixing in her mind.
"Calm young one," Said Saldrenius. "Is my voice even touched by wrath or malice? Would I first mention farming to you if I meant to maim? I would not, and so I ask you, be calm. I come only to teach and talk."
Mughe's breathing slowed, her heart beat slowing to a calm. She closed her eyes and relaxed as something came over her. Bit by bit she fell asleep, the feeling of warmth covering her like a soft fur over a newborn. The darkness of her shut eyes slowly receded into the sight of dream. She was in a field, the sun hovering above her as a gentle breeze swept across the grass. She was walking towards something, she didn't yet know what, but she could feel it pulling her close.
In the distance, Mughe could see a tall totem of wood. As she approached she saw patterns of birds upon it. They danced towards the sky, like tongues of flame, reaching for an impossible summit. Mughe gingerly placed a palm on it, and slid it across the rough surface feeling the detailed carvings every feather, the sharpness of every talon and beak. She felt as though she had a real bird in her hands, and that everything upon the totem was looking curiously at her.
"In grieving, I have come up with many things for your kin. This totem is for all people who would be willing to accept me. It is a monument and a promise."
Mughe stopped moving her hand across the totem. She looked around for Saldrenius, only to find blue sky above, and golden fields around.
"I only speak to you, for speech is all that is needed. Around you is the image of things that do not exist, but they can be"
Mughe scanned around her, she saw teosinte, gourds, tubers and beans she could not recognize. They were of a rich colour and a large size.
"How-," she began with a nervous voice. "How can such things come to be?"
"How does Zenwatoon hold power over you? How do the Honour guard keep you in line?"
"Fear. Or rather strength?"
"No, it is from belief. Belief that there is no other path. Belief that any other option is one of greater pain. They hold sway over you with your own belief"
"I think I understand what you mean, but how can that make this possible?"
"If you believe it can happen, if you believe that you can create the bountiful field which surrounds you, then you can strive for it. This world is not determined by anything but your own will. You have a hand in what happens to you."
The totem began stretching towards the sky. The sound of bird song and creaking wood filled the air. The sun bloomed and the plants in the field began to grow taller.
"Take from this harvest the largest of seeds. Keep them well stored for the coming winter. When people ask what you are doing tell them the truth. Let your conviction be your argument, let your belief be what converts them."
A summary that makes the GM squee in jubulation. - Talked to the people, told them that though defeat was their fault, Saldrenius didn't care about what happened, only the result. Can redeem themselves by being more obedient and by being there for one another. Did so through the fire in center of slave pen, and comforted people with warmth at end. (Ideal, as it briefly summarizes important details that the GM can reference at a glance.)
- Spoke with Zenwatoon and learned some of his origin and personality. Inadvertently angered him, and was forced to proclaim his superiority to the masses. However, flipped this around by saying that Zenny's strength came from taking, and that Saldrenius had none because he gave it to his people.
- Spoke with Mughe, the Uyoi servent, through a dream after inducing her to sleep. Explained that their servitude to the Uyoi was because they believed any other option would be painful, and that belief was a powerful thing. Hinted that belief in something else could make it happen. Also explained to start selecting for better crops, and to attempt to convert people through conviction. Also showed images of a totem pole standing high into the sky, with images of birds upon it.
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Eotyrannus
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Jul 7 2016, 12:38 PM
Post #9
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Supreme God of Fishcakes
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- http://s15.zetaboards.com/Deus_Plani/single/?p=8147285&t=7870106
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For the past few days, the Primal has been doing nothing but building reserves of energy for the journey ahead. The storm that birthed it is long gone- but it can taste the faint traces of energy, feel the activity of the air. It does not know if such a storm would ever end. It remembers the glorious feeling of life in its original moments, before the confusion and pain began.
Its burns with desire to have its essence feel like that, that one perfect moment, again. Forever. And for that it must find new ways to feed, to draw upon the less base substances that form the world. Dirt and animal flesh are useless. It needs food. Truly, actively sublime food.
It gazes towards the setting sun- night will be falling soon. Its filaments trail behind it, catching the breeze, catching the clouds, catching the arachneous aeroplankton, feeding it with their energies. Night's descent will bring cool air, and with that, it will need to find an alternate food source- sucking up dew-soaked webs has been its normal fare in the darkness.
The Primal gazes down- the shadows of the setting sun have revealed a structure on the ground. The beast glides softly to the ground as it lands outside the human encampment. Human settlements look vastly different to the other features of the landscape- perhaps there will be something tasty here.
The camp is little more than a single large tent, made of interlocking palm fronds arranged on a wooden frame, erected before a modest fire pit. It is near the coast, just far enough away so that the waters of high-tide do not wash it away. A rack with a string of plant fiber stands a little way off, dry fish hanging from it. Things are largely still, the ten or so humans that live here sleeping inside, with the only sound being the songs of night insects and frogs.
It enters, moving slowly, not out of an attempt at stealth- the flowing tendrils it has in lieu of legs are perfect for adjusting centre of mass and interacting with the wind, but it is hard for the Primal to support its weight upon them. The tips of the tendrils are compressed, the churning stormcloud that forms them being spread across the ground like ripples on a pond.
It raises its head and eight icy eyes, spotting motion. A messy newborn is beginning to fuss, perhaps wanting food or attention from its mother, and with it the others are beginning to stir.
The Primal's head, for a moment, turns in the sound's direction. But the icy orbs making up its eyes spot the fish first, and it is a very visual predator. It ambles over.
It works its chelicerae on the rack's wood for a moment, tasting it. But the essences are not to its taste. Instead, it maneuvers its shapeless maw to cover a fish and pull it from the rack.
The rack falls onto it. Startled, the Primal thunders- it had been expecting the rack to have roots- and throws the rack off with its jointless wings, hissing like rain on stone. It beats its wings in frustration and moves to try taking a fish once more, this time more smartly.
As the rack collapses an exclaim of frustration spits from the tent. "Gah, something's getting into the fish!"
"Shh, I'm trying to sl-"
The infant begins to wail loudly, followed by more groans from within the tent.
Someone inside sighed. "Deal with San, I'll see what's going on outside."
It looks up- the noise has finally got the Primal's attention.
The beast looks from the rack to the tent, and back again. It decides- it must eat quickly if it wants to be the investigator instead of the investigate. The sound of howling winds come from its maw as it runs its stormy head along the surface of the rack, lengthening its streamers of rain as it does so. The streamers will warn it if anything approaches from outside its not-inconsiderable field of vision.
"What on earth?" A female of about twenty-five mutters as she crawls through the small opening of the tent. Her eyes strain through the dark night once she stands, struggling before they spot the shimmering of the creature before her. "What are you- Hey!" She shouts, first confused but then seeing its eating her family's food. "Get out of that!" She begins to move forwards, waving a thin fishing spear in front of her.
The beast turns around and faces the human. Its eight eyes glow and its fangs shine with intense light. It remembers the pain of being stuck with a fishing-spear- it remembers that humans are delicious, too.
But it is not desperate this time, and so it does not simply overpower the human. Instead it growls, a low and rumbling sound that reverberates through the clearing. As long as the human keeps the spear between itself and the Primal, it is safe. The beast does not know how hard it is to avoid the weapon, and so it tests the defences, a beat of its wings carrying it to as close as it dares. It jabs the air with its stark chelicerae, trying to draw a reaction as it leans, ready to shift its weight backwards and avoid if the human jabs back.
The woman shrieks, shifting her weight onto her back leg and batting the creature's head away with the end of her spear.
"No!" She yells, stepping forward and thrusting, digging the tip of the spear into the center of the creature's mass. However the beast reacts quickly enough, drawing back before the sharp stick can do more than give it a shallow cut. "Help!"
Frantic shuffling is heard from within the tent, and in the dim light another figure can be seen crawling through the tent's door. "What's happening?"
It snarls, thundering again, leaping backwards with another great flap of its wings. It realises that if it wants to catch something, it'll have to get more... creative. It rears up on six legs, roaring- a sound like a lightning strike leading into a hurricane- to buy itself some time.
First idea- using some of its lightning essence to burst the spear. No, it decides, that would be wasteful. The taste of lightning is a rare commodity, and it will not use that fine energy for such a feeble task.
Second idea- a distraction. Its glistening eyes dart. Yes, this is a good plan.
With another great beat of its wings, it takes to the air, and accellerates. It is in its element again. No longer is it slow, pondering- what it would consider a leisurely pace is faster than a human can run. But all the same, that speed is a disadvantage against the spear- flying fast would merely skewer it.
It tilts its wing as it carries itself up into the sky- then with a sudden twist it is screaming downwards. It passes by the human, the air whooshing past her face. But the human is not its target.
Behind it there lay a smothering fog, formed from silken and cloud essences, replenished through its sky-trawling. And unlike its eyes and jaws, the fog is not one that is visible in the murk. With a sound of crashing wood, the Primal rams the tent, the trap set.
The tent's construction was sturdy enough to protect it from strong winds, largely through its supporting stakes being driven relatively deep into the sandy ground. However it was never meant to withstand such a powerful collision. Even though the creature successfully punches through one side of the teepee, easily enough punching through the fronds that act as its siding, it's momentum is significantly slowed down. When it crashes into the other side, only a short distance away, it becomes entangled, and brings the whole tent down on top of itself. Now it is covered by the collapsed tent, though on a different side from the now very confused humans. However the silken fog has been dispersed, and clings around and under the rubble, gluing it together..
Meanwhile the human stands beside herself, her spear dropped as she clutches fists of her hair. Quickly she sets about clearing away the now sticky fronds to free her family. Meanwhile a male of less than twenty stands up from where he was exiting the tent. "What is happening?" He asks, as other groans of confusion come from under the rubble.
It curls its wings, tucking them close to keep them out of the way. One wing has a jagged piece of wood sticking out, but the Primal ignores it in favour of finishing the impromptu hunt. It cuts its way free with its chelicerae, hissing angrily, and pushes itself free before getting back onto its tentacles.
It turns around, keeping off of the collapsed hut to keep it from crushing its own prey, and turns around. It glances around for whoever is least restrained- and pounces, its maw swirling with enough force to strip tendons from bone.
The male human shouts as the creature leaps onto his back, knocking him to the ground. His surprise quickly unravels into panicked screams as the flesh of his back and shoulder are rasped off into the creature's maw. Blood spurts from his wounds and sinks into the sand.
"Kuwat!" The female screams. She tries to drop a cluster of fronds, shaking her hands in confusion when they cling to her hands. Quickly she realizes that they will not come off, and ignores them as she fumbles for her spear on the ground. Finding it, she rushes towards the fallen human. She stumbles along the plant fibers, almost tripping as they cling to her feet, until she finally falls face first into the sand just beside the creature. Grunting and spitting out sand, she rises just enough to thrust the spear into the creature's mass. Her grip on the weapon is poor, the slick palm fronds causing it to slide in her hands, but it is enough to drive it several inches into the beast's flank. However the fishing spear is long and thin, not designed for large game. As the creatures jerks backwards, a reflex from the pain, the tip of the spear snaps off.
"I'm stuck? What's going on? Putri, Kuwat, what's happening?" Voices call from among the fallen tent, as the infant continues to cry even louder.
The creature bellows in fury- this time a wholly organic sound. a roar from the pit of its belly. With one tentacle it crushes the woman's face into the sand, letting it choke and struggle in the airless space, and with the other it stretches out the human's arm.
With a single snap of its chelicerae the arm comes off at the elbow. It picks the human off the floor to watch as the limb is swallowed- then it stretches out the next arm. The Primal will eat this one piece by piece for its insolence.
It is already planning how it will eat the next ones. Maybe it will envenomate one, let it liquify and drink it. Maybe it will wrap one in silk then suck out its flesh through the hole. It will certainly ensure that its prey is secure before it begins, though- the opportunity for experimentation is too good to pass up.
It spits out an ulna as it stares into the eyes of its prey.
The female human screams out as her arm is severed, yet as adrenaline floods her blood she gains a surprising strength. Using her stump and knees as a brace, grinding the raw flesh and bone into the sand, she pushes herself backwards, every muscle in her body tightening as she resists the beast's attempt to manipulate her arm. Yet in so doing her neck and head become very exposed.
"No, no, noooo." The female whimpers.
The male under the creature begins to cry. The flesh along his back and right shoulder is stripped to the bone, and his arm lies twisted uselessly under his belly. However in a move of desperation, he finds his left hand free enough to grab one of the soft tendrils of the monster on top of him. His fist locks around it in a tight grip, his nails tearing into the soft appendage. Not stopping he tries to roll, moving just enough to make the creature lose it's balance. With a painful sob of an inhale he snaps his head left, bringing his mouth close to more of the creature's flesh, and bites down. His blood, and that of the creature, mingle in his mouth.
Meanwhile, during the commotion a gnarled hand clothed in shorn plant fibers breaks from the fallen tent. An older man of almost forty breaches the debris, and what he sees horrifies him. "Primal!"
Not wasting a moment he turns to free others from the sticky mess. Fortunately most of it has done little more than stick small remnants from the teepee to the people within, not fully impeding movement for the occupants. He clears a frond off the face of a woman next to him. "Cinta! You have to run. You have to take San, and the others, and you have to run. You have to do this!"
The woman immediately shoots upwards, her eyes wide and her mouth agape from what she sees. "No! Putri, Kuwat! We have to-"
"There's nothing we can do. You have to take them, and run. Please, Cinta. I will give you time."
The color of Cinta's dark skin can only barely be made out in the dim starlight, but she seems to grow very pale. After a moment she finishes uncovering the others around her, most of them no older than twelve, though another young adult of around their mid twenties is among them, and together they try to make towards the tree line. Their escape is not exactly quiet, as the newborn wails, and a child of about six years cries questions as to what is going on.
The old male then circles around the primal and his wounded family mates, spear in hand and breathing heavily. Suddenly he throws the weapon to the ground, falls to his hands and knees, rips a necklace made of animal skin and sea shells from his neck, and casts it before the creature. "Primal, Great and Terrible, I shake before you. I see the things you do, and know you are powerful. I beg you, please spare the rest of my family. Ask me what you want, and I will give it."
The Primal almost falls, having to scramble to its feet as it props itself up with one leg. Then it drags the young man's head to its mouth and envelops it.
The human elder draws its attention, and it spits out a pinkened skull that comes to a rest before his bowed head. One tentacle is raised towards the female- a command for it to halt. The other raises the elder's chin to meet its eyes almost delicately. Then it speaks.
"Food," it says with a voice like a thunderclap. "Lightning. Man-flesh." It drags the human to its feet, its grip holding it just a little too high to be comfortable. "Delicacies. I have seen the darkness banished the thrice of thrice of ten times. You will tell me of rare and concealed and tasteful things..." It uses a fleck of its precious lightning energy, cauterizing the bleeding female's wound in an instant- "And you will be of more value than to be breathed and made part of me."
The lightning lances up the females arm, cauterizing the wound but burning her flesh up to her shoulder and sending her into a seizure on the ground. If she gets care afterwards she won't die, though she is certainly incapacitated for now.
"Tasteful things?" The man gulps, his eyes wide. "I- I can give you fire. I can take you to where the fish spawn, at, at, at the color rocks." The man's head twitches downwards, towards the body and head, and he grimaces. "I give you my son, Kuwat. Please, just..." The man seems unable to finish his sentence.
"Fire," the Primal drawls, continuing to hold the elder in its one tendril. "Colour rocks. These interest me." It tosses him to the ground, towards the other human. "You will tend to the female while I replenish myself. Then you shall uphold the bargain." It begins to strip the corpse beneath it completely, planning to retake upon the cloud-silk as well before it will return its full attention to the two creatures of flesh.
The older man rushes over to Putri and scoops her up in his arms. "Shhhhh," he tries to calm her as she moans. His brow squints with determination as he eyes the burn along her charred arm. "I need to make a salve. Please, I do not need long. I can use the sweet wood bark and thistle just over there to help her. I just need a few moments."
The man runs to the tree line to gather what he needs, and then fumbles awkwardly in the dark as he prepares the salve. He applies it to Putri's wound, and then wraps it in some of the scattered palm fronds. It's obvious from the expression on his face that he would like to do more, but knowing time is short he simply piles some of the fronds atop her. When the sun climbs into the sky she will be protected from its rays. Finally he runs to a nearby stream and collects water in a surprisingly sealed bark bowl, which he sets next to Putri. By the time he is done the sun is beginning to crest the horizon in the east.
Meanwhile the primal gorges itself on the man-flesh. It consumes Kuwat quickly enough, though its body bloats and turns a crimson red, weighed down heavily by all the meat it has eaten. Even now however some of the creature's essences are absorbed into the primal, and with it some strength.
It rests languidly as the elder applies the salve, having turned what was once their home into a makeshift bed. It is aligned into a polygonal pattern- perhaps some remnant of spider instinct within the Primal. Bones of what was once the man's son lay scattered around, some incorporated into the bed's structure and some left where it spat them out. All of the silk has been retrieved and ingested.
It would appear to be asleep if not for the eight icy globes fixed on the two humans. Every so often they glance upwards towards the clouds, glaring hungrily.
Eventually, when the elder looks as though its attention is no longer fixed on the female, the Primal moves towards them, the added strength making it slightly less awkward as it does so. "To eat more man-flesh would be corruptive," it rumbles, "but I shall do it for the sake of retribution if you betray me." Its massive head, swirling with crimson clouds, swings in the direction of the fire pit. "The taste of smoke appeals to me at this moment. Explain the methodology." There is no room for argument.
The older man's face is frozen in a vague dumb expression. "I don't- what do you- the ways of the gods are mysterious to me. I do not know how you eat fire. Great Primal, I can make it for you though. Please, I need only a moment."
The man rummages through the debris for several moments until he locates a basket made from vine and plant fibers. Inside he pulls out several pieces of smooth wood, and a curved branch with rope running in a straight line to connect two ends of it. He walks stiffly to the fire-pit, and using the tools he has brought, begins twisting a smooth wood fragment into a tuft of dry grass as it is braced against a flatter piece of wood. After several moments of rapidly spinning the two pieces of wood together a thin trail of smoke begins to rise. Before long the grass has formed into a small orange ember. Quickly the man sets this in a larger bundle of grass, and blows on it until it ignites. Then, carefully stacking twigs and branches upon it, he slowly builds up a nest for the fire to grow in.
"I give this humble offering to you, Great Primal."
The Primal moves in to feed, ignoring the man's praise- it cannot feed off of its own ego, no matter how large it grows. Instead of immediately eating the fire, it spends time testing other materials and sucking up smoke and ashes- mainly smoke- then changes tactics to maintaining the fire and sucking off tongues of flame in the process. It is a patient beast, and the additional work is worth the richer meal.
To its annoyance, drawing essence from the fire proves to be difficult. Though physically the Primal has no trouble swallowing the smoke and ash, it cannot taste what little essence is within it. The flame itself is worse. Though it is full of essence and raw primal energy, it is seemingly too pure. Any attempts to drink the essence from it only yield painful burns for the young Lesser-Primal.
If the human notices the Primal hurt itself on the fire, he hides it well behind a mask of concern for the female. Occasionally he glances over and feeds the flame as needed, but otherwise tends to her. At one point he wanders off to gather ingredients for more salve, and at other times to get water or eat, but ultimately stays out of the Primal's way, both from respect and fear.
Sometime in the late afternoon, it regards the humans once more. "I tire of this meal," it informs the man. "You will tell me where the coloured rock is and I will leave- I have no interest in staying in any one place. You may take a tongue of fire for your own use before I finish eating." It moves off of the fire to stretch its jointless wings and await the knowledge.
"The color rock is to the north," he explains, "in the water between this island and the next. All people fish there often. The water is warm and shallow, and the fish always spawn there."
The Primal does not bother with thanking the human. Instead, it raises its wings and then brings them down, hurling itself into the air, taking a detour off its normal route to investigate the place spoken of by the elder.
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With a splash of water, the beast hits the water, ignoring a group of startled fishermen as it plunges into its chosen deeps.
Needless to say, it goes much better than the last time it hit the water. The sudden transformation of rain to bubbles, lightning to glowing plankton, cloud to green sea is expected and natural for it. Still, these aspects are weaker than they had been- it spreads its filaments to take in the microscopic organisms of the water, and sucks up wavetops as it goes.
It flexes its wings, propelling itself with ease now that it has the energy and clarity to think of how. The 'colour rocks' are a reef, surrounded by seagrass meadows. The primal approves of the place- it has a certain beauty to it.
As it moves, it feels a pain in one of its tentacles as they brush the rock. A rush of bubbles comes from its maw, a geyser to proclaim its fury. Unfortunately the target of its ire is but a simple, immobile animal.
It remembers the fire. It must break through the pain if it wishes to taste lightning again. And so the fire coral is devoured, even as it burns the inside of the Primal's maw.
Pain, it decides, is the food of the pure. That which hurts the Primal in its feeding shall make it stronger. It begins hunting for toxic and venomous creatures- the baser materials are left untouched, except to maintain its already-perfect form, and to give it the energy needed to obtain the essences it lusts for in the first place.
The Hunt 1. Filter-feed for aeroplankton, mariplankton, clouds and waves. 2. Eat a human and some fire, get burnt and stabbed for the trouble. 3. Scour the reefs for venomous creatures and eat them.
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Sigma Draconis
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Jul 9 2016, 04:58 PM
Post #10
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- Posts:
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Hyena Trouble The search for a new abode was not going as well as Kraeyar would have hoped. True, his band of followers had increased, but still they did not find a suitable location. The cave was secondary, they could make do without one, but the issue that kept them from settling down remained. There was not enough food for them all, the ground lacked necessary materials for the survival of the group. Of they could only find a patch of fertile land, with abundant prey to hunt… That was all he needed to make a stand against the ever approaching sickness. Sacrifices would have to be made, of course, but it would work.
Even now, it hung in the air, an indescribable pestilence, following them wherever they went. Kraeyar could not help but think of the Matriarch, and her attempt to stave off this sickness. Since it kept advancing, she must have failed, and probably perished in her attempt. A pity, she was a fierce hunter.
And setting the pestilence aside, tensions existed within his group. The Neanderthals and his previous followers did not seem to get along at all, not to mention the hyenas, who kept pestering him about returning back to the Matriarch. Their loyalty was commendable, but Kraeyar needed them with him. And if Matriarch was dead, there wasn't much they could do anyway. Right now he had to focus on making sure his group did not fall apart.
They had made camp for the day, and Kraeyar approached the hyenas, who normally bunched together at the end of the day. The Hunt Lead perked up as he got closer, and Kraeyar motioned her to follow him.
“I shall be brief.” he said bluntly. “I know that you desire to return to the Matriarch, but I am… asking you to remain with us for a while longer.”
Kraeyar grimaced, disliking the fact that he had to ask anything out of this creature. A fiersome hunter she was, and Kraeyar respected that, but he was a god, and she a mere hyena.
“Longer?” the Hunt Lead growled. “How long would you have us follow you, Kraeyar?”
“Not long.” Kreayar answered, repressing his anger at the hyena´s tone. “If we do not find a suitable place to settle down soon, you will be free to leave, if that's your wish. If not, you are welcome to stay with us.”
The hyena growled menacingly, and Kraeyar attempted to appease her.
"I am not trying to steal you away from the Matriarch. A hunter would not use such tactics." The Savage God paused, allowing himself a smile that showed off his bloodstained teeth. "However, I would be a fool not to offer safe haven to a group of hunters as adept as yourselves. I respected the Matriarch, and I will respect her children, not as my subjects, but as my allies. Think about my offer."
The Hunt Lead peered at him suspiciously, before snarling and turning away. She'd return with her answer soon enough, hopefully.
Bonding With the situation concerning the hyenas probably resolved, Kraeyar turned his attention to other matters, somewhat more delicate. Integrating the Neanderthals was proving to be a challenge, and Kraeyar didn't have much patience for these matters. However, he had to address them before the situation got out of hand.
“Old One.” he called, making the female human look up at him. “Call the hunters. Have them go to the Neanderthal group.”
She frowned at him for a second before shambling off to carry out his orders. Kraeyar went over towards the Neanderthals, who regarded him nervously. Like most of the new additions to his group, the Neanderthals were especially fearful of him. The Savage God sat on the ground and wordlessly awaited for the hunters to arrive. It was not long until the rest of his hunters arrived, glancing suspiciously towards the Neanderthals.
“Weak.” Kraeyar growled after a minute's silence. “All of you.”
The men stirred and glanced at one another, unsure what they had done this time to displeased the Savage God. To tell the truth, Kraeyar was getting tired of delivering variations of the same speech over and over, but as long as it remained effective, he saw no reason to change it.
“Our numbers grow, and yet you remain weak.” he continued, standing up. “Instead of combining your strengths, you squander them, mistrusting one another, instead of working together.”
Kraeyar halted, turning to look at the Neanderthals, who were looking at him somewhat hesitantly. Perhaps it would be better to limit his speech to simpler terms.
“These” Kraeyar said, shifting his centipede cloak so that a few greenish rocks tumbled onto his outstretched palm. “Will help you in a hunt. They will allow you to talk to each other, without making a sound. They will also allow you to... connect with one another, sharing thoughts and ideas.”
The hunters clustered around him, muttering amongst them and eyeing the rocks suspiciously. Rocks that strengthened them and protected them against wild animals they could easily understand, but this new ability seemed to be somewhat too abstract for some of them.
"Of course, shutting down the link is extremely simple, and you may do so any time you wish. Now, take one.” Kraeyar pointed at one of his original hunters, who gingerly took the green stone in his hand. “One of you too.”
The Neanderthals muttered amongst themselves, casting suspicious glances towards the other humans. None of them seemed to be willing to volunteer, and Kraeyar was starting to lose his patience when one of them, barely an adult, snatched one of the stones, turning it between his hands nervously.
“Good.” the Savage God growled, as the two hunters stared at the rocks uncertainly. “Now we begin our training. The rest of you, pay attention.”
This would probably not solve all the problems between the Neanderthals and the rest, but it was a start. If they could start sharing ideas, and workng together, their mistrust shouldgradually fade away. Maybe not completely in this generation, but their children and their children´s children would work together, even if they looked different.
Revenge The disease that had taken one of the children of his followers still concerned him. His power had not been able to save the child, and the mother had been inconsolable ever since. Kraeyar needed everyone pulling their weight if they were going to get through this, and this woman had become another burden, a liability.
For now, she huddled alongside the other women, sobbing now and then. She still cradled the corpse of her child refusing to let go, even when the other women tried to pry it from her. But Kraeyar could use this, her grief could be easily turned to fury.
The Savage God approached the wailing human, and the other women quickly retreating a few steps away. The grieving mother did not budge, however, still clutching the limp form that was her babie´s corpse. Kraeyar picked her up, almost gently, and trudged away from the group of women, who muttered nervously amongst themselves.
As he walked towards the surrounding forest, he passed past Rur and Ika. How swiftly the child was growing, but still Kraeyar feared it would not be enough. If things didn't change soon, he might be forced to take drastic action. But there was still time until it came to that, if it ever did.
One of the hyenas was lying down next to both mother and son, and glanced at him for a second before turning his head away. The being who used to be the disgraced hunter also hovered close by.
Kraeyar smiled as he looked at the creature, as it could almost no longer be considered human. His teeth had transformed into fangs, and his nails into claws, his ears now caught sounds none of the other humans could perceived and his strength surpassed that of any other hunter in the group, by quite a margin. His skin had become splotchy, with patches of black and green covering it, allowing the disgraced hunter to better hide amingst the trees. There was always room for improvement, but Kraeyar was pleased with this first attempt at creating the perfect killing machine.
He soon lost sight of them as they went deeper into the forest, the woman still crying in his arms. The Savage God set her down on the ground, and waited to see if her sobbing abated. It did not.
Sighing, Kraeyar grabbed the woman's face and forced her to look him in the face. Her eyes were red, and tears carved dirty paths upon her face.
“Listen to me.” the Savage God rumbled. “Listen!”
The woman ceased her crying, at least momentarily, and clutched the child´s corpse even closer.
“Your child is dead.” Kraeyar said bluntly, and then plowed on before the woman could start her wailing once more. “I share your grief over his death, as well as your rage.”
The woman said nothing, only stared at him silently.
“But I can offer you strength, power to avenge your child.” Kreayar´s cape fluttered and shifted as the centipedes brought him a small pouch, containing blue dust. “If you so wish it, this power is yours. You need only swallow part of this dust every day, until there is no more. And in time, you'll be able to exact your revenge.”
He offered the woman the small bag, and awaited her answer. If she accepted, the second step would be completed, and a race of part man, part beast hunters could finally see the light. And, with an army of such creatures at his back, he´d make good on his promise, and take revenge on those who had dared to harm one of his followers.
Summary -Tried to convince the hyenas to stay for a while longer, or forever, if they so wished.
-Attempted to create a sense of comadership between Sapiens and Neanderthals through telepathic stones.
-Offered the mother of the dead child the same powder that the one the Disgraced Hunter consumed, and promised her revenge.
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