Wen-tsu struck a pose at the praise.
"Mighty moon rabbit, that's me. So are you coming with us, Mr Frog? Um, burp ribbit ribbit blargh?"
Moubu rolled his shoulders in an expansive shrug. "Aye. Whether or not there's more going on here then the creepy shadow woman would tell us, it seems like the best bet for more information would be to go to her."
Moubu looked up at the newly unshadowed sky, judging the time and direction that they would need to head in as he casually started trying to wipe away some of the mud from his armor. Turning to Grik he said "I'm sure you probably don't want us to go near the Wapungo, as dangerous and evil as they are. But it sounds like that's where we need to head if we're to get quick answers. If you don't want to come with us, will you be able to get back to your home safely alone?""
Grik seems a bit downcast, perhaps more than a bit, but he puts on a brave face.
"Burp! ...Grik will not follow you all the way...they would attack him, and you for being with him, but without they might let you be. He will help you get up the river, though! Will help, to pay you back for saving him.
As for home, he must now wait a little longer, keep looking for answers. Without his answers, or your swords and strength to offer, he could not go back-the Bighats would drive him away, or kill him maybe." He says, turning away.
Anders' pulled at his own soul, using Caern's warm little soul to find the bits of him that remembered being human, and he tore them free. When free, he pushed the tender little sparks of humanity back into Caern. Who knew, it might help the phantasm.
Anders detaches the Phantom, channeling as much as his own remaining humanity as he can...it's amazingly resilient, for so small a thing. Of course, losing ones humanity tends to go easier the further you go. Anders briefly falls into a trance like state, dredging up memories of a dream he has often had. It has always helped when divesting himself like this...or freeing himself, depending on your point of view.
When your Father first beholds a re-born world, from his vantage point in the higher darkness, he sees it's potential. The potential never lasts...blessed chaos is always overwritten by sentience, craving purpose and order, and that purpose breeds Gods who fashion life to their own petty needs.
Your Fathers greatest acts are his most subtle ones. He can be the fist that shatters the continent, or the whisper in the ear of just the right child. He always starts with beings Anders knows as PRIMORDIALS. Some-most-are actually made by the New Gods as their own toys, and he slowly enlightens them to his designs. Others he does make himself, or combines. They are rough, crude, animalistic beings in design-the closest to pure chaos, and yet they share a common theme, that of burgeoning life...those who survive the worlds re-ordering become the great totems of animal life that spread through the World. The Great Wolf. The World Turtle. The Grand Dragon. From them, all species descend...any many already have his blessing, though they are unaware.
Next, comes the ANCESTORS-those early attempts at mixing beast, mortal and immortal. Few will survive to become the 'great' races, such as Humans, Elves and Orcs. Your father watches over these lost ones, long after the Gods have left them to rot on the bottom of the darkest seas...a common theme among them is burgeoning humanity, ironically, antithetical to his designs. It was from the ANCESTORS his mother came, who would become the 'mother of beasts'. Such pain, and such sorrow. She only wished for her children to survive the world your father would, inevitably, create...and for this, she has been damned, her children cursed into horrible forms by the Gods, her image displayed alongside Demons (that is, fallen Gods) in countless religious workings-an amusing irony, to be sure. Anders sometimes hear their voices, on nights when the moon is full. They are full of sadness-lonely, dying beings, hunted and hated. They will not survive in his Fathers future...many of them even fight against it.
Your father grows bolder, once his seeds are well laid in the Earth. He fashions his own species, and seeks followers-cloaking himself in the false need for order, races rise devoting themselves. These are often called the DEEP ONES, for they are almost always driven to the sea. These beings are doomed, of course. No matter how large their Empires, how vast and populous their peoples, no matter how rich their temples or well trained their armies-they always fall. The Gods will always destroy them. The Ancestors mourning cries is all Anders has ever heard of them. What is left are vicious beasts, hardly those who could reshape the world into an image of perfect chaos. The ultimate irony being that their destruction, is their ultimate design goal. The DEEP ONES do have one final purpose, however-that is to corrupt the mortals the Gods have made. Always where land meets sea, where desperate men and women ply their trades in small towns, the DEEP ONES watch and wait. They can wait as long as they need. They have forgotten everything, are scarcely sentient, but they breed rapidly...and they hold the knowledge of your Father. When one grows desperate enough for something they very much want, they may call to the uncaring sea their wishes...and occasionally, the sea answers.
A Child arises from a barren women, a miracle. If she sold something dear to her, was it not her own choice? They keep their secrets, in those small out of the way places. Often they live happy lives, unaware they carry their Fathers blessing. Eventually, however, they feel the call to the sea. The one Anders too, will one day feel-unless he is destined for more, perhaps. They become one with the sea, and each one lets his Father know a little...bit...more...these sea-children are often called MERMS, for they can inhabit both worlds, land and sea-while truly belonging to neither. Some serve his father, other his mother, some deny all. But all must choose.
Anders is not sure if he one of these, though he often hears their voices-begging for explanation, screaming for worship, giving comfort. They are much a mass as humanity is, begging for direction, even yes, as Anders often does. Unfit...if he is one of these, Anders knows he is not meant to go on. Like all that came before him, dreaming their father would hand them the Earth, he will be yet another creation that merely played a part. One day he will go to them, perhaps-there are many that would welcome him.
At last comes the greatest-beings either from the future, or perhaps, now, Anders does not know.
They have NO NAME. Not yet. At least none they have told him.
They are merely the apotheosis of all his designs, a perfect mimicry of the life the Gods twisted to suit their vision Order-absolute inhumanity in mortal form, warming a mask of perfect humanity. They will serve the Gods, even, live and worship and grow and play...a root growing into the heart of the world. When the World comes to its crashing end, and all is undone for another cycle...when the Gods and the Great Serpent battle to their end, and the world is created-the next one is just a little more chaotic, and stranger, than what became for. Even the Gods who fight him could be called his children. This is how your father undoes all that is not supposed to be. One gentle push at a time. And, when the stars are right, and the chaos is enough, he will make all worlds his-everywhere. Indeed, he will be welcomed.
All will fall into glorious chaos, as it was always meant to be.
Anders opens his eyes. Frowns. It's not all gone...not yet...that helped, though. He feels clearer in his purpose, insofar as he can be said to feel anything at all.
Like his father, he must use one gentle push at a time, lest he dissolve before he finds his purpose. Chaos needs orders to breed chaos...irony. He may be amused (may) that he can still understand irony...or, perhaps he is meant for something greater. To know both worlds?
Every time the amphibious creature began belching and derping, Caern had no choice but to wait for a translation by Jao. Weren't it for the recent events, he'd start thinking that strange language was some kind of elaborate joke. After Jao had given the party a rough translation, the half-golem crossed his arms once more. "How 'bout we check that?" he might not be the smartest member of the group, but he wasn't too happy about the prospect of using deadly force against other people (or sentient beings) without a good reason to.
Meanwhile, Illusion Caern stretched and sighed. "Ya know, the longer I stay 'round, the harder it'll be to leave. How should I go back? Think about it, hit mys-him?" He asked, trying to make a conscious effort to merge back into the original.
Feeling...detachment...followed by the fear of dissolution...and, then comfort. Taking hold of his 'brothers' hand is divinely solid, a pure joy.The 'illusion' Caern, for his own time, was as alive as anything. He does not feel the sting of death as he merges, nor the pain of erasure. He only feels like coming home, for a soul always know the way back to its bones.
...
And now, he and he are merely one, again. Caern now has...two sets of memories...very strange, but not at all bad. Surely not as strange as some people.
"I think we should visit Aisha first. I'm interested in talking to her and her mistress."
Father Jao suddenly remembered what he was doing, and looked with what was either distaste or a horrified repressed flashback at Caern's illusion's face. He turned to the Mighty moon rabbit.
"Yes. I too am interested in... visiting this Aisha. And furthermore and what is further, I think that - nay, my deity decrees! that doing this helping thing is the correct thing to do. We should help, yes. Stop this badness. Yo sir. Grik, kind friend. Wilt thou cometh with us, to adventure and fame? I cannot emphasise enough the great number of ladyfrogs that will stand (or not) in awe before you, should you save the world with us. Yet - if you flee, and somehow this comes to jeapordise our saving of the world, the Magnificent Garl should be quite displeased, I warn you in advance. Now, who would like a morale-warming joke before we advance? Or perhaps a song? Or to touch my Golden Swede? I will allow it for no payment, this time."
I... er... are we moving on then? To Glory?
Grik rubs his chin, probably something he picked up from Jao, seeing as his lacks facial hair.
"Grik has long wanted to adventure...yet, you are right, he and we must end this war. So he may leave here, in body and soul...but, he cannot follow you to the Wapungo-his heart...Griks heart...burns with hatred for them, and they for him. He will wait for you, hide away, until you return to the river. Do what you must do, and he will follow...he is not very useful though...very small hands. Not brave or strong. Knows much, but knows little. You still wish for him to follow?"
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Topic: ASOF (Game Thread) Day 1-Jao is useful (Read 29875 times)