Page 1 of 2
The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2022 8:02 pm
by Aegis
The Fields of Vitality
Frost 88th, 121 AoS
Imogen would be able to feel the door close behind her, even though there was no sound. If she turned to look, she wouldn't see a door at all. No, she was instead in a small, lush plains valley, between two small rocky ridges, with greenery as far as they eye could see. A light breeze passed through, carrying the smell of lush flowers and fresh flowing water. As it did, the fields of grains and flowers and fruiting plants and vegetables rippled lightly. The sun overhead was bright and warm, birds were singing, bees were buzzing, butterflies fluttering. Nearby, a tree, massive, bearing every type of fruit Imogen had ever seen before, and many many more she had not.
There were no structures, no signs of people, just Imogen in this fertile valley.
Then there were small yips, canine in nature. Across the valley, two boys were running, laughing, through the fields. They were human, young, maybe ten years old, bare chested and in slacks, bare foot. One had shaggy blond, shoulder length hair, and white fur across his chest and arms. The other, brown hair, pulled back in a tight pony tail, black fur over his body. They were hooting and hollering and awooing as they ran towards Imogen, waving at her as they went.
Then they both seemingly tripped, and fell below eyeline into the grains, and suddenly the world clapped and went grey. Where there had been green and vibrancy before, Imogen was now surrounded by decaying browns and greys of the plant life gone to ruin. The sky overhead was filled with dense clouds, and a heavy, humid heat in the air, as thunder began to crack overhead. Lightning snaked out from the sky, striking Imogen in the eye, leaving a rune the color of the deep, amethyst clouds amidst the heat lightning in her pupil.
Imogen would find herself devoid of skin, muscle, tissue, organs, and blood. Her clothing and gear remained, but they now hung on a skeletal body with glowing runes for eyes. But that phantom feeling of having all those pieces of self from before remained, and with them, a constant, dull ache. Imogen would find she could still move, but in doing so, the movements were jerky, sometimes too slow or too fast, and bone would grind upon bone as she did.
And across the field, where the two boys had fallen, laid two skeletons, immobile and unanimated. All around Imogen, the life from this place was gone, husks were all that was left behind. Fruit was rotting on the brittle vines, butterflies lay dead in the dirt, and no bees buzzed any longer. The tree was completely devoid of fruits and leaves, revealing emptied birds nests, dead branches, and long dead beehives. And the thunder and lightning overhead continued to crack, but Imogen would know, deep in her bones, that no rain would fall.
| ! | Message from: Aegis |
|
Please reply by February 22.
|
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Fri Feb 18, 2022 6:10 pm
by Imogen
"Unsettling!"
That’s what Imogen Ward would have said, but it wouldn’t have been true. Now, to see the vibrant world of light reduced to decay and ruin, to be struck by lightning, to find oneself bereft of skin and blood and elan... these were all objectively unsettling experiences, to be sure. The skeletal Orkhan jerked a boney arm up to the level of her skull, observing how her humerus caught the amethyst light of her “eyes”. She wiggled her finger bones experimentally, observing as they jabbed the air.
She didn’t have a lot of experience with skeletons. There were a couple of them in the Pfenning’s lock-up prop cabinet in the auxiliary storeroom, but relatively few productions actually needed a set of human bones. She had seen a handful during her short detail to the underground palace of the Grymalka but had taken no time to familiarize herself, wishing only to return to the surface with all possible dispatch.
So there was plenty of reason to find this situation unsettling, but a surprising amount of the instinctive, gut-level reaction relied on… well, a gut. Or other organs, presumably. Glands for adrenalin, stomach neurons to experience electric dysregulation- such things were the causes of all the classic symptoms of disquiet. Skeletons, famously, never get upset about their condition because the bone marrow has little to say about it.
Skelegen Ward turned her skull upwards to regard the bleak, threatening sky, and raised a distal phalange to her jawbone. It made a very satisfying “tap”-ing noise as she considered her present circumstances. This was all kinds of symbolic, and it wasn’t subtle about it. This was the Trial of Vitality, so the sudden ennervation of a lush and fruitful valley plainly reflected the life energy of this “Rickter” deserting him.
(It could also simply be a metaphor for approaching impotence, but it paid to assume the worst when it came to omens.)
So what were the primary features of this place?
First, the two children, or the skeletons thereof. They had been young boys, humanoid, but furred. Black hair and white hair, before the flash of death had consumed them. Did one or both stand for Rickter himself? Some memory of youth? Children in a lush garden full of symbols of fertility… well, that could mean any number of awkward things. She would hold off on any psychosexual analysis for the time being.
Next, the tree. It was possible to make a tree produce many different fruits by grafting, but that was horticulture and not metaphor. Presumably it was the omphalos of the trial, the achievement of the former flourishing which had filled the now-shadowed vale. The industry of life, culminating in a great tree which could bear many fruits? That sounded appropriate. Probably the flowering of the tree was key to this environment.
It bore further investigation, but Imogen’s instincts (those which prevailed even through skeletonization, anyway) were perfectly clear. To restore vitality, verdance would need to return to this valley. Next, to examine her options.
First, her maintenance trolley. Everything about it was ill-adapted to the outdoors, from the tiny black wheels to the contents of the baskets. The water in her bucket was mixed with ammonia, and would do nothing more than grant a chemical death to any surviving plants it was poured on. The lack of water in the vale rendered the mop useless, though a wet mop didn’t seem terribly helpful either. The flaming sword…
The skeleton raised a boney finger to tap the circular inscription below the crossguard, which changed from time to time. It still read 'Let go of your illusions, and don’t confuse them with dreams', which really spoke to how helpful the Sunsinger magic was likely to be while in a spiritual trial in which everything was a dream. She wasn’t at all sure how useful a sword was going to be either, especially without any muscles to guide it.
Fire, though… that, she would have to keep in mind, though she doubted Rickter would be pleased by such a solution.
Well, nothing for it. The skeletork took one of her brooms with her and left the cart and its mops, cleaner and flaming sword behind. Imogen gracelessly rehearsed the skeleton stagger-step as she made a beeline across the newly-formed charnel yard for the remains of the fallen children. They seemed dead; but so did she, and they clearly held some greater meaning for this trial.
"If you won’t die, then you must live." Imogen croaked into the desolation, or tried to. Could skeletons talk without lungs and larynxes? She couldn’t even tell if it mattered. "Which one is it? Hello?"
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2022 6:20 pm
by Aegis
The Fields of Vitality
It is a well known fact that skeletons cannot speak without lungs and larynxes. Everyone who knows about those particular bodily features knows this. However, what is far lesser known is that skeletons do have a language of their own. And they speak to one another quite often. It's more of a type of calcium based telepathy, but to those speaking it, it feels and appears like speaking. To outsiders, it seems like nothing is happening whatsoever.
And for Calcimogen, her pointed, much like a rib, words were heard by the two smaller skeletons. They both stirred, shifting creakily, before one looked up at her. It squeaked, or rather, gave off the telepathic equivalent of a squeak, and tried to hide under its bony hands. The other looked up now, and growled at Imogen. "You scared my brother!"
The tiny skeleton was quick, though staccato and a little awkward, to get to its feet, as it placed itself between the janitor and the brother. "Who are you?! Why are you a skeleton?! What did you do to our home?!" A cold dead wind passed through the area, making an odd whistling as it passed through the empty skulls of the unlikely trio.
"You're a skeleton too!"
It was the squeaky voice of the other one. The defensive juvenile turned, "Stop being ridi--" There was a long silence, "Why are you a skeleton?!"
The standing one reached down and helped the other to its feet and the both turned to face Imogen. "What's going on? Where's our papa? You're not him, he's much hairier."
The little one began to telepathically cry, in a way that only skeletons can, "I can't feel papa anymore. Where is he?"
Meanwhile, the entire world around the three of them dramatically didn't change one bit.
| ! | Message from: Aegis |
|
Please reply by March 1st.
|
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Fri Feb 25, 2022 10:23 pm
by Imogen
Of course, skeleton children. That figured.
Incusglabella Wrist-joint* actually did have a reasonable amount of experience with children. Not from the Pfenning, where only the obnoxious brats of the nobs tended to show up and leave messes, but the Sanctuaries often housed young kids. If one ran into trouble with the law, it was a poor idea to leave family lying about where they could be questioned or taken into "protective custody" or just charged with bullshit crimes. Nothing to it, she would simply approach this situation as she would with any non-skeletal children. Let no undead accuse Imogen of unfair favoritism to the enfleshed!
"Hey! Hey, boys, boys." Her calcified telepathy was reassuring, but firm, although skeletons are always firm pending serious medical problems, "There's no way you're scared of me, right? Not brave boys like you?"
They did seem to be edging towards panic, but the convenient thing about the shock of having everything in the world die in the space of a single instant was that you could try to capitalize on surprise before it turned into anything else. That was an old trick for dealing with apocalypses, probably.
"Nothing to worry about. This sort of thing happens from time to time, but I'm here to fix it." That was true enough. "I've got everything under control-" That was definitely not true. "-but I might need some strong, smart people to help me."
That ought to do it. No living child could resist the twin punches of being told that an adult had everything under control and that it was very important that the kid help. Undead kids, she imagined, were no more resistant to such things.
"Now then, I'm Imogen." This was nominatively true, if not legally, "And who are you two boys? Did your papa leave you alone out here?"
She considered reaching out, patting them on the... skulls, some sort of comforting touch, but it wasn't clear that the clink and clunk of bone against bone would actually prove reassuring. Developing a theory of skeleton psychology on the fly wasn't easy, but Imogen was as qualified as anybody else in this place, especially now that everything was dead. Speaking of which, the fact that the skeleton boys were still moving and talking really put her off the notion of the "burn everything down and let it grow anew from the ashes" strategy. That might work for forestry but arson was famously bad at returning children to life.
~
*No actual bones start with "W", there's simply nothing to be done here.
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Thu Mar 24, 2022 12:22 am
by Aegis
The Fields of Vitality
"We're never alone. Papa is always with us," chimed the pair in a horror movie like unison. The boys gave Imogen the skeletal equivalent of a wink, which to many, looked like absolutely nothing happened, but Imogen knew better. And with that wink, the world was suddenly alive, and the two wolf boys were there, whole and intact and fleshy and furry once more. Much like Imogen herself, minus the fur. It was just as Imogen had first seen it.
"They're coming, Imogen," as a pair again.
With a thunderclap, Euripedes would find herself at Imogen's side, in the same state she'd been in at the beginning of this whole ordeal. A plume of fire appeared next to her, depositing an equally original Florian there, able to look out upon these lush, green fields.
Then the sound of a million wolves began to bark and roar across the land. This was followed by a stamped in the distance of wolves, all bearing the same coloring as Rickter's own. They rode across the fields with a speed and ferocity not often seen, even by those familiar with wolves. As they arrived at the group, the two wolfish boys began to hoot and howl as well. Two wolves disappeared, leaving Tobias and Avamande in their stead. The sun grew momentarily brighter, a bit more on the white spectrum now, until Arcas and Aoren also appeared, joining into the ragtag group within this portion of Rickter's soul. An unseen door creaked open and Tiberius stepped out joining the motley crew.
The world around them went on endlessly, green and full of life and vigor. Aoren and Arcas would know that this represented Rickter's ideal. If they had ever asked Rickter where he would want to spend his days, this was it. He may not know where it exists or if it exists at all, but this is what he imagines as the perfect place for him. The wolves around her began to sniff at each of the people, and as they touched, they would find that each wolf contain one of each and every single one of Rickter's memories. All of them.
A wolf touched Arcas' hand, imparting the memory of when Talon had carried Rickter out of that warehouse in Zaichaer. Another touched Aoren's hand, the memory from when Aoren had defended Rickter from Hisei. One touched Imogen's thigh, gifting a memory of Rickter once tracking mud over a beautifully cleaned marble floor. The memories allowed themselves to be touched at will by all of the people here. The memory would be experienced from Rickter's point of view, giving full access to his senses and emotions and mindset at the time. This was not an invasion by any means, rather offered up as a gift.
Then all the wolves, and the two boys, howled at once, in unison, and Rickter would appear there, naked and uncorrupted, standing there before them all. He, Arcas, and Aoren would be able to feel the last strings of their bond breaking, severing Rickter from them. When those shattered, they knew everyone would be ejected from here, back to the world they had come from. It was a ticking clock, and there wasn't much time left.
But it was a moment they couldn't have had otherwise.
| ! | Message from: Aegis |
|
Everyone may post once more. Rickter will post first, then everyone else can go as time allows. After everyone has posted, the event will end and everyone will be returned from whence they came.
|
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Sat Mar 26, 2022 10:46 pm
by Rickter
The Fields of Vitality Frost 88th, 121 AoS
He felt a collusion of great many things within his soul tonight. Everything. From the constant darkness gradually eating away at his soul, to the moment his predecessor created a calling for those to answer upon. He did not know why or how, but this man had felt like an intruder, and tonight he'd allowed strangers into the house of his own soul.
The wolf felt dread.
Things were in motion that couldn't be taken back now, and the connections between him and his loved ones weakened. His memories of them slipped away like water between his fingers. No matter how desperately he felt his heart clutch tightly, the rope that served as their Bond gradually tore strand by strand. The heat of Arcas had overwhelmed him already, its mark left on his soul as he dwelled within the gentle quiet of the ocean around him. He was not ready for this. For any of it. Not under these circumstances worst of all, and not when it came at such a terrible cost.
And yet, he learned something out of this. Being able to see into these dreams he was sharing, experiencing what these other strangers went through in their brief time here. There would come a time where Rickter would have to think back upon this night, when the pain in his heart no longer raged like a torrent. Oh yes, even within the maddening reality of his inability to fight it, the wolf could still feel what carried on within his soul. The impressively stirring rhythm of music that shook his core, it reminded him of a passion he had when someone dear to him used to sing. That poor Ellie and her mother... How brave Florian had to be to face such horrors from his past.
Rickter couldn't help but sympathize with him, even when he still smelled of Zaichaeri air. Were it not for the fact he already would be shedding tears, if such a thing were possible in this ocean, then the wolf's heart might've actually bled for the poor bastard. Regardless, of what he observed, the presence of these strangers felt like an invasion, one that none of them were clearly aware of to say the least. And what was worse... His soulmate had been dragged into this, left to resolve himself with crossing that final threshold, and sacrificing their Bond together just so he would save Rickter. A dwindling part of him understood but that sense had faded, leaving only a frustrated sense of blame at such a selfless act.
But was it really? Talon was always the one throwing himself between the throes of their enemies, after all, he did it that night when he first returned as a Demigod. Yet as he felt his skin and bones miss that noticeable heat within his soul, Rickter noticed a returning comfort he did not expect to feel at all. And then, the memories began to surface. One, by one, by one. Each wolf that shared an impression of his memories, Rickter clenched in his dark space from the sudden flash in his mind. The warehouse. How terrified he'd been for his own life that night, when he couldn't even use negation to keep himself safe. Yet when he'd fell into Talon's arm that night, when the man practically swept him away from that dreadful place, the wolf felt himself lost within the man all the same.
A sense of ease. Trust. There was safety in his soulmate's embrace that night, safety he did not ever wish to let go of ever again. And yet it slipped, just like the rest of those memories with Talon. Gradually, some of the wolves within the group started to fade, their lights swirling into the air before their forms began to disappear. Even the one that brushed Talon.
And as Aoren's memory played through, Rickter recalled how warm and humbled he'd always felt. How much Aoren always believed in him, and how far he went to protect him just as well. There was no denying the love and duty the wolf shared with him, making it harder to let go of those memories too as several more of the wolves began to fade out. Another memory. He had nearly stormed back within the Kalzasian Embassy in Zaichaer, his temper deeply sour after the fact his Bondmates were threatened. Make no mistake this was livid anger he felt, driven to a point where he wanted to tear off someone's throat.
And yet of course, in the wake of his urgency to look after them, the wolf might've tracked mud within the embassy on their behalf. Once the others felt their share of memories, Rickter felt their howls rush through him in one immense wave, prompting the wolf to open his eyes as the flash around him revealed a new world entirely. The endless fields of green, where one could roam freely to their heart's content. Indeed he dreamed of a home such as this; of a place where, one day, he would find and build a home for the ones he loved. If not out in there in the waking world, then most certainly within the depths of his heart.
He'd give anything to have allowed that now, as he felt the strands of the Bond nearly diminishing in the presence of everyone. They were here, all of them, to see the wolf in his barest of forms. Rather quickly he breathed in deeply, apprehensive to even be here at the moment. He would've given anything to awaken from this, what he considered a plausible nightmare, just to return to the world he once knew. He only wanted Talon... he only... "You've awakened again, good!" Tiberius greeted before everyone else, determined to keep Rickter's attention while he still had time. "There's little time left. Say your goodbyes, the road ahead of you is an arduous one."
The knight looked to the wolf sharply before he turned to move past the group, taking a position between two hills as Rickter was left alone for the moment. Well, alone with everyone else. The fact he bore no clothing made him uncomfortable as well, the wolf's eyes greatly averted from those who surrounded him. Namely, of the two who at present lingered within his soul. He wanted to just break down, to withdraw from everybody present, and slink back away into his own world of shadows. One where the hurt didn't sting so bad, where the impossibly one-sided fight no longer mattered.
Thus, Rickter stood covering himself pathetically, waiting for the hard part to be over with.
Off Topic
If anybody wants a specific memory or something related to touching the wolves lemme know, I'll gladly fill you in via dm's on Discord if you so choose!
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Tiberius"
"Every side attacks you when you don't pick sides."
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2022 11:57 pm
by Imogen
Well, it had been weird enough to be summoned into someone else's dream- and it was particularly bizarre to watch children turn into, and then back from, skeletons- but watching a demigod arise from the dead void while everything turned into wolves around her definitely took the cake. It was as though the land of dreams were mocking her for her astute literary analyses earlier, which was highly unfair. She wondered briefly if you could sue the Land of Nod, before regretfully concluding that no part of that thought made sense.
Imogen wasn't a particularly inquisitive contractor, but it was not possible to avoid trying to pet the wolves. The instincts were deep and powerful; no canine should go without pats. This was one of the iron laws set down by the Dragon Gods in the dawning of the world.
"Oh, hello-"
But before she could introduce herself, the wolves attacked, viscously providing her with visions of a strange man being untidy. Tragically, she was permitted to observe him tracking mud across a beautifully cleaned linoleum floor, the damp, packed earth and debris viciously inflicted upon the innocent surface. It was enough to make an angel cry, and Imogen's soul was sort of angelic if you could look past all of the crimes. As strong as she was, a single, crystal tear escaped her eye, twirling off into the void. Perhaps someday it would be found by the gem dragons and venerated as a pure expression of unalloyed grief.
Thankfully, the rest of the memories on offer were just this unknown man's private experiences of utmost pain, joy, loss and triumph, and not nearly as bad as the time Rickter hadn't wiped his boots. She observed them with some perplexity, but didn't try to read too much into the other person's private memories- it seemed a bit rude, and Imogen Ward was a professional, whether awake or asleep.
Speaking of- as the chains of the Echo binding her to Rickter's convulsing soul began to fray, she surrendered to dream logic once again. While it appeared that the nude Rickter wanted nothing more than the quick departure of the people his (grandpa? ghost-dad? unclear) had summoned for his aid, there was never a bad time for a little self-promotion in the middle of a crisis.
"Ah, well, bit of a lucky break on this job, then." Certainly the first time she'd ever seen a deity show up to solve a problem, so that had to qualify as luck. "I suppose all's well that ends well. But if you happen to encounter any other deadly evils which threaten to overwhelm you, here's my card."
Being a criminal and so forth, Imogen didn't generally have a business card, but this felt like the right moment for one to exist.
Thankfully, the non-existent nature of the business card meant that the lack of contact information probably wouldn't matter very much.
"Best of luck, Mr. Maze, everyone."
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2022 5:30 pm
by Tobias
The weird experience that Tobias had felt, to be pulled into a strange dream of someone else's accord. Perhaps a strange omen for Zaichaer's future that he had been forced upon. However, he could not reveal such a thing in the eyes of Zaichaer for the fear of being persecuted for the likes of witchcraft. However, his vision did settle amongst the Lysanrin. Was it exactly the one which Eitan had described? White hair, purple skin. His eyes narrow as he inspects his attire, knowing that Eitan has had some trouble tracking this one down.
Yet, he simply turned away, only to confide with one of the wolves memories; perhaps they were like the dream bubbles that he had noticed flying around the place from when he entered from before. Or whatever they were called? He wondered if there was a sudden way out of the place now that he had been confined to. What was a dark place was revitalised with lush and green fields, as if one was dreaming the concept of freedom. Perhaps this was something he also hoped for, to be free from the clutches of his trauma.
Perhaps the wolf's dream was a lesson to him. What was the lesson though? Tobias pondered on, before he was taken right back to his bedroom in the Zorrothy Residence; from there he awoke but it appears that there is a hidden cloud of darkness lingering over him. A cloud only he can dissipate if he choses. Will he?
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2022 7:58 pm
by Talon
He stood there, looking out across the great expanse of the verdant field and felt peace ripple throughout him. As the gentle breeze ghosted over his wings, he felt a soft melancholy. Feeling the wolf nose his hand, he let his fingers curl into the soft fur as he experienced the memory. His memory. Rickter’s memory. Aoren’s memory too. He opened his eyes as the wolves vanished and Rickter appeared, naked and looking a bit confused but safe. He gave a tremulous smile as he saw Rickter. That smiled hardened into a frown when he saw Tiberius.
Anger rose within him. The light of the sun grew brighter around him, manifesting his dominion over the Light. He did not call upon his nimbus, he did not need to, but it was clear as day in his eyes that he was furious. With eyes that beheld the great expanse of the Aetherium, he could see the echo of destiny twisted things lingering around Tiberius, a destiny that was loosely threading itself around Rickter.
In that moment, he beheld Tiberius in full. The silver of his eyes swirled with a touch of the violet-blue of aether that represented the expanse of the Aetherium itself. The horizons of his vision expanded and the realm became a plane of stark black and white. Chained to Tiberius, he saw the Echo rippling over the tapestry of his soul. Within each link, he saw a small flickering silver flame and within them he saw the many souls that had been ensnared by the weave of this terrible curse. He saw Talon there. He saw Aoren. He saw Rickter. His Rickter. He saw others whom he did not recognize and faces he certainly did. A sharp anger settled upon him as he realized the gravity of what was in front of him.
He reached out and caught Tiberius arm as the knight moved to brush past them.
“I will say this once, Old Friend.” Leaning in, he narrowed his gaze, making clear his supreme displeasure. “Rickter’s soul is mine and no others. Play with it again, force upon him the burden of your destiny and you will learn why it is that even dragons bow before me.”
He reached out to the vestige of Tiberius soul then. Touching upon the mark that was emblazoned there, the emblem of Eminence that had been dormant for ages, flared to life. The emblem burned brightly before it was seared from the flesh of Tiberius soul. Stripped from him completely. Going further, he narrowed his eyes at the chains that rattled in his vision. He could not break them. Not yet. Not in his current state. But he could do something. Silver fire sprung from his hand where he gripped Tiberius. Specifically, it jumped to the chain that was tied to Rickter. He scorched those links. He was in no state to break them…but he loosened them. He weakened them. And then he let it be known his deep abiding fury with all that Tiberius had done.
“Now, go.” The power of the Aetherium flow through him. His province as a god shone unrestrained for the brightest of moments. With a force of unrestrained will, he thrust Tiberius from this place. He could not yet banish him completely from Rickter’s soul, but he would not tolerate his immediate presence in that moment. That act done, he turned to Rickter and came to cup his beloved wolf’s face.
“Rickter…” He could feel himself fading from the verdant field that was the peace of his sorumeito’s soul. He pressed their brows together. “We will be together again, my beloved wolf.”
He searched those deep blue eyes. Dimly he was aware of what was waiting for him in the waking world. Pain. Darkness. Suffering. He would give Rickter the only tool he could in that moment. Perhaps the only thing that would guide them back to one another.
Gently he took hold of the emblem that he had stripped from Tiberius and with warm hands, he bestowed it upon Rickter. A second mark to help guide Rickter when he could not. Aoren came up and also rest his head against Rickter. He ran his hands over the Rathari’s body, sending as much warmth and love to him as he could. There was fear within both of them, fear that Rickter undoubtedly would be able to feel.
“Darkness waits for us, love. We will need you. You must remain strong and remember…” His voice shook and his eyes misted. “I love you. We love you.”
He could feel shadows pulling at him. Aoren gasped and shuddered, falling to one knee as inky blackness crawled across his body. He clung to Rickter’s hand before his form fell to ashes and vanished. He pressed their brows together, a single tear rolling down his face.
“Light the Fire, Rickter.” The divine light within him warred with the dark that clawed at him but he was too tired. He was too weak, too not himself, to fight it. As he too began to fall to ashes in front of Rickter, he firmed his voice.
“Lead the way.”
► Show Spoiler
Avowed | The Avowed of Arcas are those who have been twice marked by him. They have grown in their relationship with the demigod to become beacons of Light, Hope and Justice in their communities. These individuals are trusted to weigh in on matters of dispute in order to resolve conflicts with fairness. These faithful, while few in number, are regarded as true protectors of their communities who are intolerant of acts of tyranny, cruelty, evil and suffering wherever they go. They are able to perform the following when channeling the gift of Eminence:
Dominion. The physical resiliency and strength of the individual grows to such a degree that an individual could, if met with great physical force, stand unmoved by the impact. Their body becomes resistant to being wounded. A Justicar need never fear being bruised by glancing blows or being harmed by mere shrapnel. They are not immune from fatigue, wounding or direct assault but they enjoy the privilege of not having to be concerned about being harmed by acts that ordinary people might be injured by. Whereas a normal human might suffer a sprained or even broken ankle after dropping from a height of 3 meters (10 ft.), a Justicar need not be concerned about such things. They could fall from twice that height and suffer no serious ill effects. The Avowed of Arcas can push themselves further and endure more far above that of the average person of their race. They are not infallible however and must be careful not to push themselves so far it could be considered reckless. It is easy, when one can perform such incredible feats, to forget ones own mortality and it is that trap that often sees many Avowed take on far more than they alone can hope to overcome. Avowed of Eminence can safely channel the powers of Dominion for up to 20 minutes before suffering the effects of Burnout.
Celerity. Locked until Arcas reclaims the domain of Hope.
Dawnfire. An Avowed of Eminence is capable of conjuring Dawnfire large enough to equal a large bonfire. It can shed bright light for up to 60 ft. in diameter and dim light for 30 ft. beyond that. Magical darkness imposed by up to Journeyman level magic or another Avowed level Emblem mark, is driven back by the light of Dawnfire though it is not dispelled. Should the dawnfire go out, the darkness will return as normal. As before, dawnfire can be used to bless an object with its flames. These blessed flames can be maintained for up to two minutes by an Avowed before they dissipate. When used offensively, dawnfire wielded by an Avowed can be considered equal to the magical fire used by a Journeyman level Elementalist.
Re: The Trial of Vitality (Imogen)
Posted: Mon Jun 27, 2022 11:02 pm
by Euripides
Have you ever ridden lightning? Traveled in the space between the claps of thunder? Neither had Euripides before this moment. On the side of a mountain one moment, in a field the next. Hadn’t even sucked in a breath to let out a cry of surprise — to fall into another cry of surprise as sound from her lips returned. But the thunder; she adored it. The boom and the crack of the world as its accompanying lightning split the world in light and sound. A threat waiting to happen for some and a catastrophe already struck for others. She sucked in a breath as she took in this new space. The entrance of the others not dissimilar in how odd they were — but this was a dream. A dream wherein the breath that was held between a sizzle in the air and the great boom of applause, she had arrived.
Of course, this fixation on the raindrops on her tongue would not last. Could not last, as they turned salty in her mouth. Wolves she had not seen — or more accurately: paid attention to — pressed against her and invaded the thought space she had been so enraptured with. The boom of thunder turned into the boom of voices, raised. Shouting, angry even in the jumble of nothing that they were. Saltier still as doors were thrown open, keen ears picking up on the woosh of wood pulled quickly open. Stomp stomp s t o m p came the thunder of steps. Fast, quick as a whip — a whip of her head to the woman at the table. Salty tears that streaked down her face, marred the pretty face hidden behind the cover of her fingers. Ah, men.
But the same whelp of a man that had summoned her to this dream stood beside her. A mewling young thing that watched the woman for a moment before he threw himself out into the early morning. The stomps of his feet were nothing more than the patter of listless rain as she trailed after him. The loom of clouds overhead like watching gods, misery waiting. She could feel it, in her fingers in her hair in her bones. How misery loved her, to bless her with just this knowing. A hollow gaze to trail after this image of Rickter, chasing down his father. Not a drop blood between them and he’d felt as if — no, he must have been his father. No one before could have been, and maybe no one after.
How sad.
Euripides crouched down beside the lad on the docks, staring out into the space where the boat had once been. Too far now to be seen; just a speck, maybe. She lifted her hands as if to frame the waters and empty air. No ship, no father; a bastard wolf with a mother who wasn’t his own. How lonely how sad how miserable. Her hands turned on the boy, framing the streak of tears as the skies open and joined him in his weeping. A clap of thunder —
And once more she had ridden the slice of sound through the air. The bitter disappointment and emptiness of abandonment lingered. Why would he leave? Why were those stubby legs not fast enough? Why why why why why? She snorted, laughter mirthless as her shoulders shook and a janitor walked off. Memories of equal measures misery and mirth came forward and a man who had once been a wolf was a man once more, and he too left as Euri dropped to her knees. Still laughing; eyes tearing up now with the force of it.
And then a blessing — a blessing!
Gods above, there was that love he missed so long ago!
“There it is!” A shriek, a wail — sound all the same before she jumped to her feet. A great exclamation of unbridled — joy, agony; one could never be sure. She threw her head back with a howl of her own. Too far; balance gone as she stumbled back. Boots knocked into one another and she fell back into the grass. The shortest cut of a shout left to linger in her place, the rest of her gone as if she had never been there at all.
