Might as well do something

[OPEN] Might as well do something

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549

Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT

Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie

#10

04-10-2017, 11:19 AM (This post was last modified: 04-13-2017, 05:49 PM by Rikyn.)

"Sounds fucked," I smirk in reply to her description of the Fae Gods. Our Gods maybe weren’t much better, but they certainly didn’t do things just for the sake of doing them; there was always a great purpose to the tasks that they took on, each deed pondered and plotted. The reason was rarely to trick, or divert, though the Moon Goddess had certainly proven she was not adverse to rather malevolent means to get her points across.

In fact, only the Gods which she inquires after next seem to be truly like those which she recalls from her home. From what Ming Yue had told me of her life within the Rift, the Gods of her native realm were selfish, and did whatever they pleased, often at the cost of those they ruled over. What happened, she asks me, as if anyone can easily and quickly answer that question with anything more helpful than: I don’t know, a fucking lot.

"Condensed version, because otherwise we’ll be here ‘til night falls and our skin falls off, yeah?" I answer, in good humor, "there is a place somewhere called the Rift, and that is where Kaos is from. Our Gods found the Rift in magical disarray, pretty well ruined by the horrible management – Kaos, and the Divine things he was. Either the Gods here really liked the real estate or felt sorry for the Rift natives – maybe both – but they pulled four lands and the people who’d been in them over, and dropped them flat in the midst of Helovia."

I’d been there, when the Blood Forest had simply… appeared around me, sort of seeming to be born from a fleeting, blink of an eye’s time of bright, simple white, which spanned all about. Ming Yue – beautiful, princess Ming Yue – had come through a portal, which is likely where the whole land had come from. I’m not sure. I don’t have super-speed God vision, and I definitely don’t know how the weave of reality really works. I just live here, man.

"It’s weird, being there when something like that happens. It’s not everyday a whole land suddenly pushes the others aside, and appears around you from nothing," I laugh, the mirth in my voice quickly quieted by the recollection of the rest of the story, and its bloody ends, "they didn’t think the Gods of the Rift would make it through, too, but they did. Helovia stood together and killed them when the retaliated, of course, but…apparently Rift Gods are a lot harder to kill than we’d bargained for."

Figuring she’ll ask if she wants to know more, I ease into the water, deciding I’ll stay a little while longer before I get out, and sun dry on the steamy banks. When the conversation turns to the past, and the somewhat active present, I look at her with a dark smirk.

"It’s not just a story," I tell her, because it’s not, my eyes glimmering with dark humor, "and believe me, I’m good at hurting people."

"Most everyone is dead or gone now, but there are those who still remember, and a few who still believe in the old laws," I continue, deciding that the matter is well enough settled – I’ll talk, she won’t tell Erebos, and everything is peachy, "but the artifacts and bones are there still, for those who know what they are looking at. To the north of the vale, there is a deep, dark cave with several whole wings in it. Full sets, carefully removed, and others seemingly torn away with great force, left to be covered with dust. Who left them there, do you wonder? What sort of man?"

I like story telling. In another life, maybe I could have been a boring fellow who stood next to a campfire and enthralled children with his words, but I’d been born far more interesting than that. It’s why I had so many tales, after all.

"The sort of man who studiously looks them over, to understand how best to cure those afflicted with such appendages, that’s who. I’m sure you’ve heard of realms which are ruled by one species, and which violently eradicates those who are not as they would have them be. Those who lived in such places came to live here," I elaborate, "they created a vast divide between themselves and the rest of the realm for their choices. The tent, there, was enchanted for silence so that they could plot the demise of the rulers who did not wear the crowns that made them worthy. The Sentinels were made in the form of unicorns, to crush those who were not beneath their plated hooves. But what is more notable than the old way of life here, that time's creations, or the loathing and terror that it inspired in the realms about them?"

"The man who did not lift a hoof to halt the collection of several of those wings is entombed with honor some short distance from here," I smirk, meeting her ember-like eyes with hard, metallic ones, that have a bit too dark of a glimmer in their depths, "praised by the very beings he likely despised. I wonder often what he thought of it all, in his last years. The forward progression of time, and how it devoured even their powerful dream… or if he thought of it's passing as a loss at all."