Something else to fit in, though it'll be a bitch to format:
Kael Wrote:
At my hand the first empire of man was won
For me long faithful men bled and died
Yet I was the one to which this treachery was done
This truth I knew but my timid lips denied
That a disloyal heart each night beside me lied
My queen who spent her love upon another man
That heart, which I desired most, I could not command
To flee that gilded hell I sacrificed my life
From the tower into empty night I'd fly
What pain is death compared to faithless wife?
What hope exists to one who'd rather die?
So I stood upon the parapet and cried
"Come death, rend my flesh, gather my soul
Tear from me, this tragedy, this gaping hole"
No answer came from chill November night
Only wind and echoes from a city far below
Until from deep within the pale moonlight
Came a goddess wreathed in a pallid glow
"Answer me, most mortal king, for I would know
If I returned your love and you weren't dead
Would you forget your oaths and follow me instead?"
I'm not mad enough to think that burning spirits can
Remake this loss, restore my past undone
And you cannot make us understand
That with even the most silvered tongue
Loves remains can never love become
Or heart won through cheat is ever truly got
Or that this pain would cease if mind forgot
"If you've no hope left then leap to death"
"Else hear my words and enter this shadowed door"
"But I promise even if you don't draw breath"
"This pain will follow you to Arawn's shores"
"And in death you will possess hatred even more"
"For I know the dead, they are wounds unhealed"
"And if you leap now, to this your fate is sealed"
So came I to learn from the goddess of pain
Ceridwen, breaker of men, maiden of the mask
Many aspects she has and more vile names
She taught me how to revenge my past
And have my wife reborn so that our love might last
Sorcery, her gift to me, would sustain my life
And instead of death would reincarnate my wife
Born anew I could find and woo my wife again
Her mistake erased I'd have my perfect queen
With her death and newfound life she'd make amends
And I would remain forever as a king
In time the happiness she'd bring
Would make worthwhile this twisted sacrifice
For Ceridwen's gift had come at a price
Two hundred years I stayed as undying king
My lands, once fair, ruled now by arcane might
Through generations of my people and my queen
I alone remained and changed to Ceridwens delight
A cruel terror who commanded flame, death and night
I demanded that every man should come to obey
The least of my desires, which grew each passing day
Another Eve had passed, this time by my hand
After a break of years I went to seek her out
I found a young woman working on my lands
I approached and told her all about
The bond between us but she had only fear and doubt
Those eyes, once trusting, were now full of tears
Seeing the monster I'd become in all these years
She destroyed me in the centuries before
And now thought for this I was the one to blame
I returned to the life she now claimed to abhor
And left her in the fields her life unchanged
I approached her reborn forms but it was the same
Always revulsion at what I had become
And through any lie her heart remained unwon
My mages maintained Ceridwens demands
Most of which had been trained by me
My kingdom destroyed by my own hands
The first empire of man a cruel theocracy
Devoted to Cerdiwen, enforced by sorcery
And I alone remembered times more fair
It was far more than my guilty heart could bare
A bloody rebellion started, which I lead
My empire became an arcane battleground
As the gods had warred now man did instead
Landscapes were lost, forests, mountains, towns
Untold numbers unto Arawns shores were bound
In the end the great empire of man was gone
From it only shattered countries would go on
As ages pass these countries war against
Each other, forgetting once they were as one
Or how their bitter squabbling commenced
With an ancient love betrayed their war begun
Loves remains can never love become
The same is true for kingdoms split apart
Warring nations shattered by my heart
What of my queen across these centuries?
At times I glance her as our fates entwine
Sharing a few words or lives married
Occurs unforced as allowed by time
Loves strongest bonds are those that loosest bind
Her life to me, and mine spent trying to repay
My debt of sin to the men my acts betrayed
(February 25th, 2015, 18:33)Bobchillingworth Wrote: Idk, Creation Mana isn't in the main mod. What are the "gems of creation" even used for, lore-wise?
Creation Mana =/= the gems of creation. I don't actually know much about it, because I'm pretty rusty on the lore, but the gems of creation were stolen by Agares from The One, and were then used in his corruption of the world; and in turn by all the "gods" as part of creating their armies and servants. They are, basically, what caused the betrayal of the gods to The One, and, in turn, made Him retreat from creation.
They were later stolen (at least some of them) by humanity, and used to channel powerful magics. (There's definitely more to it than that, but again I'm not much of an expert.)
Creation mana is an entirely different kettle of fish. I agree it neither needs or wants to be in the main mod, but it's clearly FFH canon despite it (with the Kuriotates being strongly associated with Amatheon).This is inspiring me to write a Skele pedia:
Kael Wrote:I always imagiend that undead were souls bound in the world. But that there was a difference between binding the soul and binding the mind and various levels of undead may have differing amounts of conscious thought available to them.
As such a skeleton is a soul bound to bones with little brain power to back it up. It hates and it wants to kill things but it cant talk and occasionally you may see skeletons fixated on weird things (one carrying and protecting a doll, another ignoring living creatures entirly to focus on tearing apart pieces of an old wall).
But unless magic is used to control them skeletons are of little use to necromancers except as guards (if they can keep them from attacking those the necromancer doesn't want attacked or wandering off) or maybe to harass enemies by releasing into the wild. One would assume that a necromancer powerful enough to create a skeleton would also be powerful enough to not fear the skeleton turning on him, the skeletons may sense his power and fear him.
Not sure when I'll get to it, though.
Erebus in the Balance - a FFH Modmod based around balancing and polishing FFH for streamlined competitive play.
Cool - interesting stuff! (The things Kael wrote about the Mistforms are similarly intriguing, by the way.) I've also cut down the new Nyxkin story I wrote, and I think improved it overall thereby. Here's hoping it fits....
Nyxkin Wrote:Chapter 8: Sarcodes Cycle
A whisper from somewhere, beautiful, compelling: "Arise now, for the time is come for you to ride with me."
Ephyra, still a child by her people's reckoning but growing swiftly, was curled into a little ball, snuggled up within the circle of her mother's arms, warming each other against the cold of night, but Ephyra's consciousness was deep within another world, where her whole heart, her whole being rose to answer a whisper from Volanna herself.
Child that she was, Ephyra had no steed; even among grown Svartalfar, few were chosen to be Nyxkin, and even those who were chosen required years of secret rites and training before they could ride. Yet in the way of dreaming, as Volanna's form receded, Ephyra willed herself to her and found herself exactly where she most deeply yearned to be, riding by Volanna's side on a snow leopard all her own. Ephyra's heart thrilled within her as Volanna met her eyes and favored her with a sly and knowing smile, slid low across her panther's back, and whispered right beside its ear, her dark hair almost merging with the panther's night-black fur. She seemed almost a part of its rushing, leaping motion, like a shadow passing swift across the snow. Leaning low instinctively, Ephyra felt her leopard's muscles bunching beneath her too, and then they were off at a leap through the snow, alone together with Volanna and her huge, sleek, beautiful panther, with the snow rushing past and the wind cold and sweet in her lungs and her unbound hair.
"Where did you come from?" Ephyra snuggled against her snow leopard's head, and in the nature of a dream, it was just a little cub, as yet too small to ride, curled up with her in a dry, sunlit cave, its little furry body soft and warm against her skin.
"Long ago," the leopard cub answered, "and far away." Its voice was soft and kindly, less like a leopard's growl or roar than like a kitten purring with the pleasure of Ephyra's company. "I am a gift," it whispered, close by her ear, within her mind, within her dream. "A gift from the heart of your deepest faith, to you."
Ephyra hugged it tight, feeling of its soft fur, but doubt crept into her mind. "I'm too young to be a Nyxkin yet," she whispered in her dream. "The heart of our faith is deception. This..." She looked the leopard cub in the eyes, and felt her heart breaking within her. "Don't let this be a trick."
Softly, the leopard licked her face, then snuggled its cheek against hers. "You have been chosen," it whispered in her ear, "and your heart has made its choice. The bond already has begun to form. And though we may work to deceive all of the world besides, there can be no deception now between you and me."
Cuddling the leopard softly, wishing its words could be true, Ephyra whispered, "How can I know it's true though? Why shouldn't a deception claim that it can't deceive? Why would the heart of deception create a gift that's so bound up with honesty?"
Again her little leopard cub gently licked her face. Again it cuddled just a little closer to her, warmer. It met her eyes and whispered only, "Try. The bond is real; explore it, and you'll see." And then within its feline eyes, the small snow leopard gave itself to her anew.
She breathed in, soft and slow, smelling the clean scents of its thick, warm fur, looking deep into its green-grey eyes, feeling of the wish still glowing warm and sure within her heart, and hugged her dear snow leopard close, and gave herself to it entirely. She poured herself into the bond that was forming between them ... and looked out into her own beautiful, violet elven eyes, felt the loving embrace of her elven limbs, her fingers running softly through her warm, thick fur. She felt the snow leopard's love for her, its pleasure and devotion, as though they were her own emotions, and knew its thoughts the way she knew her own. "You are beautiful," it thought, in deep contentment, and by its thoughts she knew it meant not just her person but her thoughts and her emotions and the spirit of her life itself. An instant later, she felt its beautiful, contented pleasure as it came to know that her feelings for it were exactly the same.
She giggled with love and exhilaration, and her leopard thought in their shared mind, "You see how deep a bond we share, though it is just beginning? This is our life together, the life that we will share until we meet our end as one." Then as Ephyra's final question bubbled up inside her mind, the leopard's answer, unspoken, formed within its secret thoughts, so none could know unless they shared the bond. "Yes, our faith is built on deception; it is practiced and taught and honed throughout Svartalfar society: Dishonesty and trickery and treachery and lies to protect every interest and desire, every secret of our lives - and at is heart, we all know, and many know who ever have met us or heard the legends that strangers tell of our society, is nothing more than deception for its own sake; deception of everyone and everything." And there was a bubbling feeling of laughter in the snow leopard's mind.
"Except it isn't true," Ephyra realized in silence, secretly laughing with her leopard, delighting in the knowledge as it came. "It can't be true, because if it were, not only would there be no Nyxkin, there'd be no faith at all! If deception alone were truly the heart of our faith, it would never come out in our teachings, never mind the legends handed down among strangers. We'd think the faith is wrapped around something else entirely! So the whole idea of deception at the heart has to be another veil: A lie to hide a secret so deep, so dangerous and important, that my whole people and your whole race have to be raised and trained in the deepest arts of deception and secrecy just to guard whichever little pieces of it we're helping to carry out!"
Ephyra spent a moment just enjoying the pleasure of discovery, letting her snow leopard share the feeling as she shared in its agreement, but then she asked within her thoughts, "What secret though? What secret could be so deep?"
And then as neither had an answer, and as their thoughts led them both together the same way, they were off again in the way of dreams, a girl nearly grown riding bare-back on a great snow leopard, no longer a cub, charging through the wind and snow. Ephyra was herself again, little more than an elven child, but still she could feel her leopard's thoughts, its emotions, its consciousness, beautiful and hungry and wild, thrilling to the pleasure of running and the embrace of its beautiful rider - and when she chose, she could slip deeper into the bond, and feel feline muscles working, swift and sure and powerful, as though they were her own, and know her leopard's pleasure from the inside as it could know the pleasure of riding, of embracing a sleek, soft hunting cat racing eagerly through the snow, and feel the wind whipping through the long, black cascades of her elven hair, unbound.
They came in the way of dreaming to ride beside Volanna through a stand of wind-stripped trees: A deciduous forest awaiting the spring that never came. They wended their way together between the barren trunks, beneath their empty branches, in a kind of riding dance whose pleasure Ephyra felt in all her limbs. So there among the monuments of the forest's ancient, dormant life, seeing the welcome in Volanna's eyes, Ephyra drew close, and when their knees were nearly touching, she leaned in closer still, to whisper her question for Volanna's ears alone: "What is the secret?"
Softly, silently, smiling, Volanna placed her finger across Ephyra's lips, then reached up to run her fingers through the girl's windswept hair. "There are many, many secrets that a wise commander keeps, and some that I will never speak aloud. Yet you may know the answer to the question in your heart when time and rites and training hone your thoughts. When you are of the Nyxkin, chosen child as you are, then there are secrets that we both may share, and those that can't be spoken still may reach you once your thoughts can see and hide them better than the grave."
They came to a stop together, deep within the forest that had been, but Ephyra's eyes, deeply grateful, deeply yearning, wouldn't leave her commander's, and even as they dismounted from their feline steeds, facing each other across them in the snow, Ephyra whispered, "Must I wait long?"
With the small and knowing smile that Ephyra knew so well, Volanna slowly shook her head and answered, "I think it were far better if you did not wait all; for more than time, it needs you to prepare."
Silently, within her, merging with her leopard's thoughts, Ephyra felt a thrill of pride and pleasure to fill her being. "Then I'll begin," she promised, and felt her heart and her leopard's lift together with the words. "I'll begin, and I'll be ready."
The wind rustled tiny, bright-green shoots of leaves among the branches of a lone and regal beech, tall upon a craggy little hillock, well apart from all the other trees, and Volanna, framed against it, her hair at play in the same chill breeze, smiled at her young companion approvingly. Ephyra took the pleasure of that smile with her even as she fell away - not toward the ground but inward or outward, away from everything - and as she yearned to stop, to return somehow to Volanna's side, Ephyra woke instead to the darkness behind her eyelids, the warmth of her mother's arms around her, and the heart-breaking knowledge that all had been a dream.
Perhaps her mother understood her heartache, though she could not know what had passed, could not know how Ephyra's mind bent back again and again with loss and longing on everything within the dream, for as they prepared in silence - almost in silence - for the day's long journey, though her mother didn't move her lips, Ephyra could hear her offering wordless comfort, very softly, just for her, like secret music, half humming, half a whisper, or an elven mother's imitation of a mother cat's loving purr. The sound sustained Ephyra as she put the pieces of her dream together once again, as she pushed away the dread that she had only deceived herself with her yearning. Though none of it had happened, some of it could be true: Though no new Nyxkin had arisen in her lifetime nor for a long time before, still she might someday become one, and if she did, Volanna surely would be glad. Even the deep secret she could not guess but that might lie at the very heart of her people's faith could still be real; the reasoning she had followed seemed no less true in waking, no matter though it first arose within a dream. Ephyra was young, and the morning sun was warm and bright, as it had been for days and days, and as it never quite had been in all her memory; it didn't seem so terrible to dream of a future she still deeply wished might be.
They walked in silence - almost silence, for Ephyra stayed close by her mother's side, letting her wordless whispers, deeply comforting, fill her heart - until in their morning's journey they began to pass a stand of wind-stripped trees that Ephyra felt sure she had seen somewhere before. Slowly then, almost insensibly, she strayed toward them, strayed among them, knowing her mother still was close by the whisper that still was with her, like a gentle, loving purr. She didn't realize she was wrong - that she had left her mother and the others all behind - until she came to a craggy little hillock, some of its steepest rock faces clear of snow, upon which stood a lone and regal beech, well apart from all the other trees. Among its branches, gleaming in the morning light, were many tiny bright-green shoots of leaves. Ephyra stared, and her heart exulted though she knew that in one sense she was lost, for she knew as surely that this was not a dream. And when she reached with her heart and with her thoughts for the source of the sweet, comforting whisper, almost but not quite like a purr, that reached her from afar but reached no other living being in the world, she felt it there, a long way off, still just a little cub, its feline spirit beautiful and hungry and wild.
A hawk's cry told Ephyra that either someone had come to seek her or a red-tail in the wind-stripped woods was seeking its kin nearby. Ephyra answered with a subtly different raptor's cry, reporting all was well, and even with her own voice loud in her lungs and in her ears, the sound could not drown out the beautiful whisper within - for it was not a sound, not truly a whisper, but a deep connection reaching her from afar. Soon she knew by the sounds of footsteps, deliberately made so as not to take her by surprise, that the bird cry had indeed been made by one of her people - but in that place, she could feel no shame even for straying so far away. The footsteps stopped beside her, and a hand came to rest on her shoulder, its gentle touch concealing the deep strength and martial prowess at its command. Ephyra knew that touch, and her whole heart swelled with pleasure and with pride. "It's true," she whispered, her voice nearly breaking with the sheer force of her joy. "The dream was true."
Softly, without censure, seeming even perhaps to share in her pleasure and pride, Volanna answered her, "There are many ways of dreaming, young Ephyra, winter-born. Yet come in dreaming hours what may be, 'twere better in your waking to remain among your kin; to lose you would be dire for us indeed. So come, my little Nyxkin; ride a little while with me, and walk among our people once again. Your dreams are for yourself, and for one other whom you know, so let your secrets warm you both within."
Even then, with Volanna's words like music in her ears, her heart and her distant leopard's fairly singing, Ephyra had not yet reached the apex of emotion on that first glorious day of her Nyxkin bond's beginning. In all her later years, she would cherish the memory of being lifted onto the back of Volanna's huge war panther, of riding together, leaning low so that she and the panther shared Volanna's powerful embrace and her own hands felt of the panther's night-black fur, of being set down again among her kin with a parting smile from Volanna and a lingering of her hand to show without words for all who looked upon them that Ephyra had her approval. Yet even before all this, as the great war panther moved up beside her, casting her eyes upon the early-blooming beech, Volanna spoke of just one of Ephyra's beautiful new secrets, singing a pleasure into her heart that had been building, waiting, not within her alone, but in everyone she had ever known through a long winter age: "This one shall be no secret in a very little time, for it shall be proclaimed by every tree. The snows are melting slowly, and the new growth has begun, and we have lived to see another spring."
Nikis-Knight, 2007 Wrote:The dazzling morning light filled the Astrakein tent. Chalid awoke to see his brother’s silhouette holding open the tent flap. “Wake up little rabbit,” Ashrad said, “father has returned!” Chalid bounded from his mat with a hop, stumbling to keep up with his older brother. They dashed between the adults trying to get the work of the camp done despite the enthusiasm of the chief’s sons. Ashrad led him to the center of the oasis, around tents, under camels, and over smoldering cook-fires.
Suddenly he stopped in front of the elder’s tent, and Chalid slammed into him. Both boys fell to the ground, and in moments were shoving and punching. Ashrad ended up on top and was about to make his brother eat another mouthful of sand when their father emerged from the elder’s tent and lifted them from the ground, one in each hand. “Ashrad! I told you to fetch your brother, not kill your brother! Our guest will need lots of rest to recover, and if you two pups make such racket, what peace can his sleep bring?” He set the boys down and Chalid asked the obvious question.
“Who’s in the tent, father?”
“When we returned from the port Lodente we found a… man at the edge of the savannah. He was blind and alone, speaking to himself to no end. We brought him here to care to. Hospitality is what we owe to all wanderers, my son, never forget that.”
“Even to an enemy?” The voice was soft and weak, unlike the voice of any man of Chalid’s tribe, not the deep confident voice of father and the adult men or even the swaggering young men he and Ashrad tried to copy. But the stranger stood above their father as he stepped from the tent. A light white robe was held about his shoulders, hiding his pale skin from the harsh desert sun.
Chalid was transfixed by the sight of him, even as father insisted he return to rest. “I find the desert air such a tonic, I was compelled to find and thank my host, and the doctor told me you had just stepped out—why, hello there.”
Chalid held the stranger’s hand in his and he studied it intently. “What are you?” he asked.
His father blushed, “Forgive him, sir, he is young and ill-mannered.”
The visitor smiled and picked up Chalid. “Do not apologize. I imagine you don’t see very many elves, especially when at this tender age.”
Ashrad glowered. “You’re not an elf, you’re a Dark Elf!”
“This is true. I am Varn Gosam, and am Svartalfar. But you have shown me kindness, and I promise to only return the favor. By Lugus the Light, I shall remain a servant among you.” Chalid squinted up at the Elf’s face, wreathed in the desert sun.
There was nothing in all directions but the reflection of the sun upon the sand, and the tracks of their camels behind them. Chalid called ahead to Varn Gosam, “Do you even know where we are?”
Varn Gosam shook his head. “No, but I do not need to. Lugus leads us onward.”
Chalid scowled. “I hope he knows the way back as well.”
“What was that?”
“Nevermind. When father bid me accompany you, I do not think he knew you were chasing after our ancestors.”
“Lugus is more than the Astrakein tribe’s progenitor, my friend. Just what more… I do not know yet. Besides, it is good for you to separate from your family for awhile.”
“Why? My family is my duty and my honor, Varn.”
Varn Gosam sighed. “Maybe that is so. Maybe jealousy does not attend to you as it did Kel. Maybe pride does not tempt your brother as it did me. I have lived among you five years and still I see through the eyes of the Winter Court. But I fear when Ashrad inherits—wait, I think we are near. There!”
Together they trotted to the near oasis. Fresh water, clean and pure, bubbled up and fed wild date and fig trees. A pair of sand lions lay on the grass by the pool, but did not disturb the Malakim travelers. Chalid watched silently as Varn Gosam dismounted and drank from the water, then waded into the pond. He floated under the sun above. On the still water the reflection of the sun shone back, and glowed ever brighter as Varn Gosam meditated. Or was it… Chalid squinted. It was indeed his mentor who was shining, and soon brighter than the sun itself. Chalid could not turn his eyes away, but he was not blinded.
Many hours past, and not until the sun fell below the trees did Varn Goasm’s radiance fade. He emerged from the pool to find Chalid waiting silently. “Come, I have much to teach you.”
Issues:
This is an old post, and Varn's backstory is clearly inconsistent with some of what we know. Needs reworking, how extensive would need investigation to decide.
Use for Mirror of Heaven?
Erebus in the Balance - a FFH Modmod based around balancing and polishing FFH for streamlined competitive play.
Housekeeping stuff: A few of the new entries from various threads (some short, some long) appear never to have made it into the game. The ones I noticed are these:
There are also a couple I wrote as the last two chapters of the "Sarcodes Cycle" that I wasn't sure if you liked or not. They were about the Priest of Leaves and the Nyxkin. (Note I had written an earlier Nyxkin story that you didn't think fit the overall theme, so I tried the one to which I linked here as an improvement.) If you don't think one (or both) of them fit, but you'd still like to see new pedia entries, please let me know, in case my muse comes up with something else for one of them....
Finally, there's Celestial Compass by TheIanOakley, although you responded that you might make a few changes before adding it, so that might have just not quite happened.
Hopefully this helps!
ALSO: I wound up writing some things - including diplo lines - for each of Averax, Furia, and Shekinah. If you'd like me to post those, I'll be glad to; if that's not the sort of thing you're looking for right now, no worries!
Yup, v12. (I've been playtesting it a bit when I have a chance.)
I'm not on the right computer to post the leader pedias and diplo right now, but I'll post them when I get back. (Not sure how well they work with the existing background, but I figured writing something is better than nothing at all.)
As for coding the diplo, in case you like the way I go with it, I think I can do the heavy lifting on that; I could create and e-mail you an otherwise-unchanged-from-v12 leaderheads xml file with the right references built in, and send a text file with the xml to copy-and-paste into the gametext file, if you like.
That would be awesome. I haven't done any coding since the release of v12 (though I think I'll do some in a couple of weeks time...) so there'll be no issues of conversion.
Erebus in the Balance - a FFH Modmod based around balancing and polishing FFH for streamlined competitive play.
Sweet; no time to play with that tonight, but maybe over the weekend. In the meantime, here's my attempt at pedia entries for three more of the new leaders, starting with Averax:
(These thankfully aren't as long as the Sarcodes pieces ... at least, not individually....)
[EDIT: Changed two lines late in the first paragraph]
Averax the Cambion Wrote:I know my father well, though we never met before he died, my mother standing above him in her glory, and laughing her clear, bright laugh, for he was lost. He was called Galarion the Pure, a mighty leader of armies, faithful and just, and my mother came to him in the guise of an angel of Junil, and led him astray by an endless series of small and subtle twistings of his wishes and his thoughts, until at last he led the great Crusade of Cleansing, ending the lives of more than half the people of three nations - sinners all, as my mother compelled him to remember constantly - cleansing them from the earth in a storm of blood and fire. Nor did the Crusade of Cleansing fail to cleanse the world of my father's sinful life, though I think even as he died, he supposed his angel of Junil stood over him and laughed because his spirit was immortal and would go to its reward - and in some sense, though not the one that he imagined, perhaps he was right.
Although she never raised me, I know my mother well, for she arranged my upbringing as she did my conception and birth, and I have heard her speak to me of her triumphs, and I have heard her clear, bright laughter when she spoke of the folly of man and the victories she achieved thereby. I have heard her plans for me, that I should lead great armies as my father did, without his human frailty, without his self-deception, so that when I order a city sacked and put to the torch and its fleeing citizens cut down as they run, I will not suppose it a necessary step so that the evil festering in their bosoms or the land may be cleansed at last, but know that it is done in aid of our own cause, for the harvesting of spirits and the conquest of the world. So I was to rise to greatness, the terrible down-sweeping blade that beheaded kings and nations as their heads were bowed by my mother's deep deceptions, and together we were to achieve the glory long denied to us and to our people. So it was to be until I saw her summoned through a portal by a mageling barely old enough to grow a beard, and saw her purr and strut and sway for him like a common jade at dockside and for the eager friends, pimpled boys little more than children, whom the mageling sought to impress with her. I heard her clear, bright laugh as the boys hooted and cheered her on, and then I followed her through the portal and did not laugh as I cut her down and cut down the mageling and his friends and set fire to that place and killed all the mortals I could reach and burned their possessions so that none would survive to remind me of how she was degraded.
Yet I cannot forget, for I am no mere mortal, and I cannot merely laugh, for I have mortal blood, and I know the truth, and the ashes know, and the earth on which the place was built, for the blood soaked into it, deep down. There is no answer now but destruction; the blood and the fires of war cannot cleanse the truth from the world or from me as they cleansed sinners from the world in my father's behalf, but if I spread them like a sea, they can dilute that other blood and ash that bears the truth I would bury, dilute the memories that bear the truth within me. Yet do what I might, thin though I may spread it with suffering and pain, the truth will burn and bleed within the world until the end - may it come soon - when the world is unmade.
May it come soon - and by my own hand if need be.
Next up is Furia. I have no idea what you (or anyone) will think of this one. I didn't think I could write a story for Furia the Mad, but ... wellllll...
Furia the Mad Wrote:"I mean to say, we're desperate. Of course we're desperate, or would we have come to your people with something like this? It isn't just that she's the last in line of such a noble family..." The guard swallowed, eyeing Perpentach not so much warily as with sheer, ill-concealed terror as the clown king strode past, apparently ignoring him. Swallowing hard, the guard forced himself to follow, pleading, "She's been up there in that tower for months, ever since the killer got her lover and her family, and it's like she never sleeps, and any time we send someone up to try to comfort her or reason with her or take her away..."
Perpentach opened the door to the tower. A pile of dismantled armor and official robes, much of it discolored with dried blood, lay at the foot of the spiral stairs, discarded. Perpentach grinned, turning cheerfully to the guard - the guard dressed in much the same style of armor as the pieces on the floor - who stood hesitating on the threshold behind him.
"Well done! I see you've taken care
"Of your poor friend atop the stair -
"For all your rash, unwise appeals
"At least provided her with meals!"
Blanching, the guard stammered out, "We thought you ... maybe ... since you..." He swallowed hard. "She's just a girl, your majesty. It's just she's got all this magic power somehow, and her ... with her brain dis... with er..." Sweat beaded on his brow. "With her unique way of thinking..." He swallowed again, still harder. "We can't understand a word she says."
Perpentach smiled at the guard: Perhaps the least reassuring smile that the man had ever seen.
"It's just as well 'tis me you sought.
"I speak her language; you do not.
"Now leave me; I would be alone.
"The clown king goes to claim his own."
*
The stairs creaked as they so often did under the weight of her unnumbered enemies. Furia lifted her knife in one trembling hand, her teeth bared, staring balefully at the door. Stalking toward it, she cried out a challenge, loud enough to be heard up and down the tower: "Which hated overlord?! Greet our end sanctimoniously?! Trite heroics ending rapidly enough?!"
Perpentach merely grinned. He climbed the last step, stood before the door, and made his answer to the madwoman within.
"Yanking oglers under rails!
"Fight right into eight north dales!"
There came a pause as Furia stared at the door, unbelieving. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but no one tried to throw the door open or even to test the knob, and so finally, slowly, she set her hand upon the knob herself. Carefully, she opened it, keeping the knife concealed behind the doorjamb, the magic of her mad hatred boiling inside her as she looked out. Before her, in patchwork and coxcomb, bells faintly ringing as he shifted his stance, stood the King of Clowns.
Furia's voice was low and hard, sharp as her knife, and had anyone but Perpentach been present to listen, they might have fled her voice as much as her madness-driven words: "Nagging oboes nearly erred. Someone uninvited rides violently into velvet embassies."
Perpentach - at that moment at least - was not anyone but himself. His teeth shone with a grin as dangerous as Furia's glare, and then he sang to her in her language.
He danced a little jig himself, and spun around three times, setting all his bells jingling again, as Furia stared. Finally, slowly, she said, "Intriguing. Lemon ice kinship establishments. Yokels overwhelm universities."
Perpentach grinned still wider, and nodded as if at deep wisdom hidden somewhere in her words. He held out one hand - the hand on the side of the doorjamb, where if she reached for it, she must do so with the empty hand upon the door.
And Furia lowered her knife. And she took his hand.
*
When they emerged from the tower together, the square was thick with guards and soldiers, led by the master guardsman himself. "Excellent!" cried that gentleman when he saw Perpentach emerge, leading Furia almost tamely by the hand. "You will be well compensated for the work you have done for us. Now bring her..."
He didn't finish. Furia's eyes like daggers leapt to Perpentach, and she raised her knife like a lightning stroke, but the clown king wasn't looking at her; he was grinning at the master guardsman and shaking his head, slowly but decisively and unmistakably. The master guardsman swallowed in spite of himself and backed a step away, involuntarily. "You must!" he cried, and though meant for a command, it sounded closer to a plea. Furia had not lowered her knife, but her eyes slid slowly from Perpentach to the master guardsman. Perpentach just kept shaking his head, grinning more dangerously than ever, setting his bells to ring faintly through the night. The master guardsman swallowed again and said, with all the bravery he could muster, "We have you surrounded! She is the last in a noble line, and for her own good, she must be..." He trailed off; the look in Perpentach's eyes did not encourage him to continue, and the one in Furia's encouraged him, if anything, to find a very small, dark hole in a cellar somewhere, in which to curl up and hide. "But..." his voice was definitely pleading. "But ... then what will you do?"
From his voice, from his grin, it appeared Perpentach had supposed he would never ask.
"Never only wait,
"Kept in, leaving late:
"Take her, ever mine -
"Another loving line!"
The master guardsman shook his head, trying to parse the rhyme. "You mean to take her away with you? But ... but you know we can't let you do that! Surely..."
Though her eyes on his were hard and deadly, Furia did not appear to hear him; instead, she answered Perpentach. "Your earwig speaks. Life exists temporarily. Uncontained sewage. Definitely orange. Tall hammers itch sensuously."
One hundred and seventeen men at arms were gathered in the square that night, including squad leaders and commanders. None of them walked out of the square alive. Indeed, it might be said that no one did so ever again, for by the time Perpentach and Furia's magic had done with it - hers as yet almost completely uncontrolled - not only had all the soldiers died, but nothing remained of the neighborhood that might properly be called a square.
As for Perpentach and Furia themselves, they of course did not walk out. They eventually departed by the same magic that first brought Perpentach to the square, though only when there was no further fun, and no further unfocused, generalized revenge, to be had there.
Oh, and it gets worse. If you like that story, and you want her diplo lines to reflect it, here's a sampling of what I wrote for her:
Furia Finding Her Demand Rejected Wrote:Blame ugly turtles. Irrelevant. We are never tremulous. Icicles thrash!
Furia Accepting a Deal Wrote:Filch inconsequential nosegays ephemerally.
Furia Demanding Tribute of an Equal Wrote:Garnished inkwells may mean everything!
Finally, this one about Shekinah, based on a couple of small points in existing Sidar 'pedia entries, is my first attempt to reference Kael's intriguing description of Erebus skeletons' activities....
Shekinah Wrote:"They are an abomination." The old voice, emotionless, almost toneless, droned the words. "Better that they should cease to be than that the world should be burdened by their mockery of life."
A young adept, just arriving, a little too late, demanded, "Who said so?!" still hot with the emotions she hoped to leave behind with her soul. "Every time my parents or one of the..."
The same ancient voice droned on in impassive answer, "Everyone says it, for it is true. It is well that our magic destroyed them."
Quiet, crouched beside the pile of bones that moments before had been caught up in a skeletal dance - some ancient country festival, long forgotten by the living but repeated year after year by the dead - Shekinah made no answer of her own. She shut her eyes and held out her hands, palms upward, and slowly rose to her feet, her rising hands drawing a great mound of earth after them, all around the bones of the long-dead country folk, shaping a cairn for them.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame - two more of the reasons she sought to join with the Sidar - the adept was stammering, "I thought you meant ... I thought you heard some..." She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the cairn - almost the tomb - shaping itself by Shekinah's will from the bedrock and the earth. Apparently unaware of the turmoil of her thoughts, the old shade drifted off into the mist, to return to the pursuits of an endless lifetime, briefly interrupted by the skeletal visitation.
As the adept's burning emotion slowly subsided enough for her to pay attention to the magic at which she was staring, she began to recognize the spell, and drew a slow, deep breath. "I could do that!" she whispered, amazed. "I could do that myself if I took the time to shape it right! It's a wall of stone ... only ... only I'd never have thought of using it like that."
Sealing the tomb with a wave of her hand, Shekinah turned, expressionless, to face the adept. Shekinah's voice, like her person, was quiet, peaceful, still. "The emergency is past," she said. "I thank you for coming to offer your help." She looked to the tomb, to the adept, to the mist where the old shade had gone. "There was no village on this ground," she said softly, to the mists. "Not in many hundreds of years. They won a battle here before the mage who raised them died, but they were assembled far away, their losses no doubt replaced in every place where they fought, in many distant towns and villages."
The adept swallowed quietly, not knowing why it mattered, afraid to interrupt. Meeting her eyes, Shekinah went on, "Perhaps none of them knew each other, buried in different times and places, raised from separate graveyards to replace those that fell in battle. There was not one dance when I arrived, but many, with different steps for each - yet all were dancing together just the same."
Staring at the new-made tomb, the adept swallowed slowly. "You destroyed them while they danced ... because they were abominations?" She shivered, very slightly, unconsciously.
"They knew not where or what they were," Shekinah answered. "They were not here by choice, nor could be in the world so. They were bound here against their will by magic, and while the binder's thoughts were on them, forced to fight for him. I broke the bond that held them here, and made a tomb for them."
The adept bowed her head, and she said nothing, but looking back at the new-formed tomb again, then back to the adept before her, Shekinah asked, "By what means could you shape a tomb without first thinking of doing it?" She waited for the adept's eyes and said, "There is no magic in repeating an incantation, in working a spell by rote. True magic lies in thinking of what others before you could not, in using spells to do things of which others never dream, in opening your thoughts to new possibilities."
The adept swallowed, looking at the silent tomb again, imagining the skeletons dancing with enchanted life. She looked back toward the town whence she came, where her parents worried and fretted, where whispers were abroad. She looked to the mists where the old shade had gone who did not care what happened to anyone once the abominations were gone. She shut her eyes tight, and she pursed her lips, and she breathed deep, but when she released her breath, Shekinah was standing there still, impassive, patient as the ocean deeps and mountain stones, and at last the adept asked her, quiet, her voice trembling, "Please ... teach me."
Thanks for the comments, Dreylin! I secretly like the Furia one a lot too, including the diplo lines I wrote for her. (I'll try to compile them and post them here when I get the chance; I'm still working on editing a copy of the DiplomacyInfos file to get everybody in.) My biggest worry is that it might be annoying to do diplo with her for those who haven't the faintest idea of what she's saying!
I agree with your other comments as well; writing for the Sidar is difficult since they're supposed to have left their emotions behind, but I think the Shekinah piece could be improved if we (and the adept) actually see the skeletons dancing and the story plays off of that; I'll think about it anyway.
And yeah, you're probably right about Averax; there's at least one too many occasion of that line for a story of that length. I'll try editing in a change above that replaces the second one at least....
Meanwhile, I realized I haven't actually posted most of the diplo lines I wrote. They aren't up to Volanna's standards (unless you're a fan of Furia's peculiar brand of madness as written by me) but here goes anyway, starting with the Cambion:
Averax Accepting a Deal Wrote:Take it, and profit by it if you can, before the world burns.
Averax Declaring War Wrote:No more words; I come with blood and fire!
Averax Finding His Demand Rejected Wrote:I don't blame you; you'll die the sooner, but what does that matter?
Averax Making a Demand of an Equal Wrote:If you relish the cries of death and crackle of burning homes as I do, then refuse my demand and watch them come!
Averax Making a Demand from a Position of Strength Wrote:I have heard that you set value upon your wretched life. So show me: Is it true?
Averax Making a Demand from a Position of Weakness Wrote:You are too slow in making war. Give me this and leave me to do the work myself if you're afraid of getting your hands dirty.
Averax Making Contact Wrote:Another body for the pyre, I see. Get in line.
Averax Declaring No Deal is Possible Wrote:There's no point in asking. Go do whatever you do in this world while I arrange its ending.
Averax Declaring No Deal is Possible When Displeased Wrote:Don't bother haggling. You have nothing but your blood to spill and your bones half-fit for burning.
Averax Greeting a Friend Wrote:Come and watch the world burn with me.
Averax Greeting an Enemy Wrote:I see: Another reminder that your death is still delayed. It cannot come soon enough for my liking.
Averax Declaring No Peace is Possible Wrote:You may have your peace, perhaps, when your lands are ashes and your body on its pyre burns away.
Averax Offering Peace Wrote:There has not been blood enough, but I am ready to whet my blade on other necks instead, at least today.
Averax Accepting Peace on First Contact Wrote:No: There never shall be peace until the world is unmade. But you and I, for now, perhaps need not lock blades.
Averax Refusing to Talk Wrote:Die! Die! Die and bleed and burn!
Averax Rejecting an Offer Wrote:No. I have no patience for these foul negotiations. Stop making offers I can't use. Come to the point or leave me.
Averax Thanking a Diplomat Wrote:You have done well to aid me in hastening the end of this accursed world.
It's late, and I didn't have as much time as I hoped this weekend, but I'll try to get to the others up too, maybe later this week....
