Pantheon - The Third Age - Story and Writings Thread

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Xar
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Post by Xar »

And here we strike the first blow in the name of Great Bel. ul-zakaru, Prophet of the Lord of Peace and Leader of the Army of the Silver Flame, looked upon the blasphemous city of Brodyr, which once had been in the heart of the Twisted Lands but now, thanks to the efforts of his god's faithful, teetered on their edge. He stood on a stone outcropping which, until just a few days ago, had been covered with slimy moss and lichens, and growths far too repulsive for mortal eye to gaze upon them and remain unscathed. But the God of Peace had come and brought cleansing and serenity to the lands his army had traveled through, reclaiming them from the foul creature which had so ineffectively tried to defend its ill-gotten gains.

Rothmog... The name itself sounded rotten and befouled to ul-zakaru, a cancer to eradicate, so that Noptae could be sanctified in truth and given to the Great Lord as an offering. So that it could become the heart of Peace, and that from Noptae itself, Peace could spread across all the lands, all of Eiran, uniting it under the banner of Great Bel.

ul-zakaru turned to survey the vast host he had brought with him. Not a fighting army, for Bel would not allow it; but an army nonetheless, an army filled with brave hearts, dedicated souls, and the strength of conviction. An army blessed by Great Bel, and thus invincible, no matter what the circumstances. Because the god was with them, represented by ul-zakaru himself, and his power protected and aided the army in ways no mortal power ever could. The army was ready now, prepared to face whatever horrors Rothmog may have hidden in Brodyr. Rumor had it that the god and his unholy spawn had traveled to Imray, and thus there would be little if any resistance upon the coming of the Army of the Silver Flame. ul-zakaru could not contain a slight smile; the fall of Brodyr would be the beginning of Rothmog's end, and would herald the new age to come. He spread his wings to the sky, and blew the horn of battle, leading the army against their next target.

***

The power of the Lord of Peace fell upon Brodyr, and its citizens, its standing army... all were taken by lassitude, by sloth, until in the end all they could do would be to fall to the ground, catatonic, awaiting the judgment of Bel. ul-zakaru soared in the sky, that he could look upon the city they were conquering, and he waited, for soon it would be time to blow the horn again, and let the Army march in and deliver judgment. But then... a movement, and then another, where no movements should have been possible. ul-zakaru was intrigued, and gazed upon the center of Brodyr... where he saw abominations so putrescent, so horrifyingly nauseating, that even his undead form could barely contain the disgust.
Rothmog's consort, Magen, and his unholy spawn. Made in the image of Rothmog himself, filled with the sickness that the blasphemous, bloated false god claimed to embody. Running sores and flowing pus, decaying flesh and flaking skin, boils and warts and bleeding ulcers, bones that broke and immediately mended again, and the eyes... glassy, as if belonging to one already dead, yet horribly yellow, as if filled with putrefaction.
So the Diseased One has not left Brodyr without protection, ul-zakaru thought grimly. It matters little. He does not yet understand the power that he is facing. He flew high into the sky, and blew two notes through the horn; the Army knew their meaning, and withdrew. Only the Prophet was left, and he unsheathed the symbol of the Peace Bel promised. There are times, he thought to himself, when the only possible Peace is the Peace of the sword. And so, wielding his silver sword, wreathed in his god's power, the Prophet of the Lord of Peace hurled himself at Rothmog's horrors in the center of Brodyr...
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Post by Xar »

"Forget the corpses, men... whoever they are, they are on our side. March on!" The sergeant bellowed, and his soldiers quickly reformed their line, leaving behind three shriveled corpses of winged humanoids, somehow mummified and made brittle though they could not have been dead for longer than one hour. The Plains of Opal were a strange place, and even stranger since the gods had returned, since war had erupted between the servants of uKulwa and the followers of O-gon-cho.

The Impis marched on. uKulwa's blessing was with them, and O-gon-cho's people had demonstrated they would not offer much resistance. Seething resentment burned into the Impis, however, as rumors spread of O-gon-cho's treachery in depriving them all of the gift of healing - and her whispered temptation, that she would restore it if they but forsook their god and turned to her worship. But the Impis were not swayed. Though uKulwa was a god of war, not life, he had endeavoured to grant the Impis respite, and had blessed them with immortality.
Rothmog had come, his diseases had infested the Impis as the god of sickness, inexplicably, had come to the help of the lady of healing - and despite the rumors to the contrary, most Impis firmly believed this to be the case. Many had gone insane, unable to die but unable to live as well; and yet Rothmog had now gone, and the Impis still stood proud.

Now the order had been given: march on, and annihilate O-gon-cho's followers once and for all. Elsewhere, other armies marched against the allies of the cowardly goddess, but the 3rd and the 5th had been given the highest honor - to shatter the Lady's remaining soldiers. To root them out and annihilate them. The Red God would be pleased.

The sergeant's thoughts were interrupted as one of his soldiers called. "Sir, what's that on the horizon?" The sergeant looked where the soldiers indicated, and he saw tiny black specks rising from the hills to the north, where the cowardly goddess had been known to manifest. It was not smoke, and it could not be birds... The sergeant's eyes widened. "DRAKES!" He shouted, as the specks grew closer.

Drakes, yes, but not alone. Even as his troops scrambled for cover, imitated by the other companies, the sergeant could not help but stare at the great drakes - larger, in fact, than any drake he had ever seen. Their scales were the color of burnished copper, and they were armored with thick, masterfully wrought and polished steel, so that they gleamed in the sunlight. Each drake bore a rider, also armored in the finest steel and bearing a long silver lance; the warcries of the riders and the roars of the drakes grew louder as the army - the army! - flew closer. Death gleamed on the tip of those lances, and the sergeant saw that each rider bore a large steel mace as well. Cold gripped the sergeant's heart for a moment, as he knew what the mace was for. And all he could think was, Where did the drakes come from? Where did the riders come from? Did she deceive us for all this time?
With a sinking feeling, the sergeant hid behind a rocky outcropping, together with his soldiers, waiting for his doom.

"It is said that she'll eat our souls if we die!" A soldier told another as they hid, preparing as they could for the assault. "But I heard that if we swear to accept her, she will give us new life and restore what we have lost!"
Other soldiers looked at the one who spoke, and one opened his mouth as if to speak, but hearing those words, the sergeant's heart tightened. If we die, he thought, we will not go gently. He crawled forward, as if to listen, then reached out - fast as lightning - and cracked the head of the soldier who had spoken against the nearby rocky outcropping. Blood and brains trickled out, and the light of life vanished from the soldier's eyes. The other soldiers looked at the sergeant - some dismayed, some horrified, some angry - but he bore their scrutiny without flinching.

"We are soldiers of uKulwa!" He said, not caring at that point if the riders would hear him. "The Red God has given us life and purpose. We shall NOT squander that purpose! Listen to me!" He raised a spear in the air. "We shall show these riders what War truly means! We shall face them and let them know that they are as children before uKulwa's spear! WE ARE THAT SPEAR!" He looked at his soldiers with eyes of fire. "We shall spill blood today, and if even we all should die, we shall go to the final gate with our god's name on our lips and his blessing on our souls! Covered in the blood of our enemies and singing uKulwa's praises!" He turned, then, and stepped out of hiding, that he could face the riders with pride. He hefted the spear in his hand, saw the riders approach, and knew he had only one chance. His last chance. His soldiers looked at him, and he knew he had to set an example. So he lifted his spear, and strained himself, and hurled it across the air, straight at a rider's heart as he cried...

"LET THE RED GOD REJOICE IN THE SLAUGHTER!"
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Post by Xar »

In the Twisted Lands, far from rumors of battle against the followers of the God of Peace - a logical impossibility if ever there was one - the people of the Womb reveled in their life amidst putrescence, vermin and the sweet, sweet scent of rotting decay. Carriers shuffled about wreathed in oily rags, cheerfully going on their daily business, while the sick and the diseased whiled away their remaining time by singing praises to Rothmog. But there were some who worked...

Glardul, a yekith astrologer, scratched its gums with a tentacle as it looked at the sky. Strange, he thought. I would have imagined that the comet would have left the heavens by now. How is it that they call it in Nyitha? The Worm? It slithered to its telescope and aimed it at the bearded star. And look here, he wondered, where does this purple haze around it come from? It's as if... But suddenly his train of thought was interrupted as the comet jerked in its course, and then, impossibly, plunged down through the heavens, towards the northeast, like a large, purple shooting star. Glardul was awed and he did not notice the subcutaneous pustules that had broken open in the meantime - but he wondered what the sign would mean, and why did it fill him with dread...
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Post by The Void »

The Sun climbed high over the dry rocky mountainside. Nestled in a valley between the craggy peaks was the city state of Khes. It high sandstone walls loomed impressively, casting cool shade for the people of the city. The cities new Inhabitants, many from cooler parts of Eiran and Enstorm gave thanks for this small respite from the hot sun.

Micaela was one such person. She sat in the shade and drank some of the cool clean water that the aqueducts bought to the city, crafted by the artisans of the Scholars of the city. Her family had travelled many miles to be here, to seek refuge from the persecution of their people, for disbelief was unpopular amongst the ignorant minds of Eiran.

Like many of the Void Purists, Michaela's family didnt believe in such idiocies as gods. As far as they were concerned there was no such thing, and science would one day answer all questions known to mortals. Her father had heard of Khes, the city that was for such other like minded people.

The State of Inritus encouraged such thinking. It was made up of many different colours and races. Amongst its people many believed the same as Michaela and her kin, whilst many others believed that The void of space was their god, and that it was sitting dormant waiting for mortals to come and go, like the sun passing over a day. These people had been moved to other cities, so as to allow the various beliefs to coexist in a state that would otherwise crumble from division in its midst.

As such, Khes was home to the greatest scientific minds alive. Everyone of its inhabitants had no stock in gods or their like and lived a life governed by science, knowledge and understanding.

And it was so, that in this city, Michaela found herself, drinking from an urn when everything changed forever.

The clear sky was suddenly stained as green tinged clouds rolled into the sky like ink. The air began to stink of ozone and grew thick and hard to breath. Michaela froze, not knowing what to do, what kind of storm was this? In her 14 years of schooling she had never once heard of such conditions. She didnt understand why the sky seemed to tear like paper. She didnt know what to do when her ears were filled with the screams of millions of tormented voices.

The ragged, gaping hole in the sky began to ooze a sea of crimson. It was with terror that Michaela realised this sea as thousands of humanoids, wicked and horned, cackling a laugh of pure evil. She began to run just as the massive bloated leg of a far greater evil began to appear through the rift. All around her people were running, some away from the horror, whilst some braver souls of the legion ran to confront the foul beings. The earth under her feet shook as some massive thing walked through the streets, its murderous laugh sounding like that of a hellish choir.

Then suddenly, they were amongst the fleeing people. Confusion rained as the horrors tore people asunder with wicked claws or vicious blades. Michaela turned to run, but froze when she glimpsed the mammoth figure of the terror. Gigantic, crushing people in its foul grip. It was with this image drawn from nightmares that Michaela's life ended, a jagged blade threw her chest from some bloodthirsty creature striking at her back.

The once proud city of Khes burned and very much died on the mountainside, as the great evil Zoraggth claimed it as his own.


*****

As the city of Khes died below, nothingness was born above.

Much like the tear which spawned Zoraggth, a black hole opened above Eiran with the eerie silence that can only be found in space. Then, as soon as it opened it was gone.

In its place was eternity. Millennia of past as well as distant future all at once. Everything that had ever been, and yet more importantly, nothing filled the same shadow in the vacuum of space.

Sitting upon a throne of pitch black non existence, The Void turned its attention to Enstorm. Bellow, hundreds of people were dying. These people had all been aware of the very basic premise of existence. In the beginning there was nothing, as will there be in the end. They had known of The Voids ultimate existence. The be all end all of reality itself.

It was these very people who were dying below. And as such, alot of that belief was dying with it. In its place, the more... mortal view of The Void came into prominence. Many others, minds to small to fully take in the enormity of reality, had simply believed that The Void was a god. With the destruction of Khes, the fragile Balance had shifted, so that it was these more mundane views that came to the fore. And as such, as is the nature of the universe, what had never existed came into healthy existence.

In the space the size of a single molecule, yet impossibly larger than several galaxies all at once, The Void was a figure of utter darkness and shadow. Much like the black hole from which it came, it was pure antimatter, complete non existence. No light reflected upon it, or could it even shine upon it. It was the dark that children feared, the shadows that caused people to jump at night. It was the hollow wind heard from deep caves and the fear many had of falling down wells. It was the Abyss, The unblinking ever watching stare. It was the Ultimate Destiny.

The Void had truly come to Eiran.

In a single moment, the world of Eiran was changed. The entire weight of all time gone and future was there. Eiran would be the beginning of the future, the birth place of the universes return to Nothing.

To the Pantheon of Eiran, upon its throne of pure nothing, The Void had truly come.
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Post by Eugen Razvan »

The Orrery turned slowly with gentle clockwork tickings, its delicate metal framework gleaming in the light of a warm fireplace. Seated on a chair in the highest chamber of the Anachronism, Lord Khul faced Nor Chroth.

"I was unable to forsee Unzen's passing," Lord Khul said behind steepled fingers. "Hence, it alters the attack on Nyitha. But we will be assailed. When? It does not matter. As long as it happens, that is all our lord cares about."

Nor Chroth coiled uncomfortably about the chair facing the human-shaped Yekith. "The only unknown is how powerful the attack will be."

"Indeed. However, the Caul has begun. They have no idea how powerful it is."

Lord Khul shrugged before continuing, a gesture Nor Chroth found odd. "Alas, it may not be enough. However, the Eclipse Alliance remains strong despite Calais' defecting. We have allies to call upon for support, so I doubt the attack will be as disastrous as some believe."

"And the Caul; when will that be ready?"

"Look outside. It has started, which is enough."

Lord Khul arose from his ornate chair and handed the yekith a scroll. "When Silister Oord returns from Calais' lands, hand him this. If I should be killed, ensure that he follows the instructions contained within. the Caul is but a part of something grand."

"Our lord both dreams grand and sculpts majestic things, Lord Khul. But I am intrigued. What is within it?"

Lord Khul walked over to the Orrery and switched it off, cursing himself for not turning it off earlier. "Transformation, dear sir. Our god is mutating himself."
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Post by O-gon-cho »

The lone Dragon of Eiran flew back towards his homelands when the message came to him, the mental connection forged during previous encounters. “Raucous, should you hear me, follow these directions to where I am,” the voice reverberated in his head.

Finding the speaker easily, the mighty bronze Dragon settled on his haunches, and looked about the cave. Then turning his attention towards the other prophet, he raised an eye ridge quizzically and asked, “What is this place? And of what need did you call me here?”

Pacing back and forth, the prophet pensively considered what to tell his friend. Making up his mind, he looked at Raucous directly and said, “I need to make a journey, but fear to leave this,” patting what looked like a large telescope of some sort, “unguarded. I understand you have your own concerns with your Lady’s people; but I promise to return by the end of the season. I ask you to stand watch over it until my return.”

Raucous looked closer at the telescope. “What does it do?” he asked quietly.

“Enables one to see,” came the solemn reply. “If you will stand guard, I offer you the opportunity to use it until my return. I know of your various searches for information regarding different issues, and perhaps this…Lens can help you in finding answers.

“Do you agree?”

Raucous pondered this request, and the potential opportunities it presented, than nodded. “It is a season of cease fire in Imray; I do not think I will be missed until the end of the season. Go where you need be and I will guard this until your return.

“…and my thanks for the permission to make use of it.”

The prophet smiled grimly and nodded at the Dragon. Wrapping his traveling cloak about him, he set off to where he felt he must go. Raucous turned his attention to the Lens. Enables one to see? he thought to himself. Just what may one see with this…

Remembering the reports of agitation in the Everlasting Mists from sailors of his Lady in the west, Raucous first turns the Lensin that direction, hoping to determine what may be causing the agitation without breaking the strictures he knew from the previous Age. The Mists swirled before his vision, then it was as if they were suddenly blocked. The sense of a powerful presence there descended upon him; looking back at him, and he tore himself away from the Lens, stumbling blindly about the cave, his vision snatched away by the power behind the Mists...
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Post by The Void »

Ni'Ra cowered. The whip continued to lash down upon him over and over again. The pain was unbearable, his sweat and the dry sand mixing in with the wounds created by the cruel barbs. His days work was finished, but still the twisted demon slave driver lashed down on him.

Demons. Their appearance had terrified Ni'Ra. Since birth he had been raised to doubt such things existed, yet here stood one laughing sadistically as it ripped his flesh. And then there was that bloated giant of a beast that ruled them all. The demon lord that sat upon Khes like its golden throne above the desert. Its malicious and evil demon army terrorising the citizens of the once proud atheistic city.

The respite. Growing bored, the demon slave driver went off to find another victim. Ni'Ra gave thanks to whatever gods would listen for the small pity. He still could not come to grips with the idea of such things. Powerful figures in the sky that plays mortals like puppets. But if Demons existed, then surely too would the gods. The pain to his beliefs was almost as great as the pain to his abused body.

Then something truly horrifying happened. The sky had been dark with pungent green clouds in the weeks since the Demons take over. Now they were rushing outwards, as a large swirling black pit opened in the ceiling of horrid vapours. Pushing the clouds out in every direction, the vortex was as black as the deepest pit in existence.

A beam of blackness struck downwards to earth. Then, like a gate into another dimension, it opened wide. Spewing forth from this tear in reality came a tide of pure blackness as an army of Voidborn warriors stormed forth to devour the demons. The dark gate then took shape of a giant figure, featureless in its pure ebony. That figure, hundreds of metres tall, was made of a pure Void, like the deepest darkest pit of any nightmare. Shadow spread from it, as if it robbed the air of light itself. Beaming from the head of the figure were two gigantic bright stars, that seemed to be aeons distant, despite the figure only being scores of yards away. These stars stared through the Demon like eyes devoid of any feeling.

The Demon lord stood and roared at this figure of the Abyss as its soldiers fought in vain with the army of The Void. The figure stood unflinchingly as the massive Demon began to run towards it across the once proud Khes.

Then in the blink of an eye, the figure flashed from existence. Instantaneously the Demon lord was coated in an ever expanding darkness, spreading across its body like a living oil. It screamed as its entire form was coated in blackness. As the last of the shadow entered its open maw, its imploded into another dark vortex.

Below the Demons were cast from the plane of existence one by one as they were absorbed into the abyss by the Voidborn. These warriors of pure shadow mimicked the giant figure that had devoured the demon in every way but its majestic presence.

The air felt light, thinner, as the giant figure stepped forth from the vortex it had created of the demon. It had grown in size from the Demon Lords power. Standing there, a wall of utter black, it cast its gaze North West of Khes and extended an arm of abyss along its gaze.

In that moment Ni'Ra knew gods existed. He had found being he would worship unquestionably until death.

The Void had made its presence known to man.
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Post by Madadeva »

Devaguhya considers his three years on Eiran. He had arived showing respect to the AllFather, a respect he had thought the Creator of Eiran deserved. And at first, a gentle approach to Life's blessing seemed promising! His prophet, how he missed AkAza!
Arrival wrote:This one will be special; among the greatest of his messengers! Devaguhya sees his future prophet's deep respect for life, his compassion, and a fierce inner strength that gives his compassion power.
He met his late high priestess, in those early seasons; seasons of innocence.
Season 3 wrote:Running like she was pursued by dire wolves, Tireela ran towards Devaguhya and leaped into his hastily outstretched arms!! “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye to me; were you!?” she cried. The God smiled and hugged his youngest Paragon. “Ahhhh, little one! How could you think such of me!” Devaguhya winked at Saltim. The merchant duke winked back and smiled fondly at his daughter. “Now, Tireela; please release our Lord. It will be hard for him to be taken seriously at Southwall, if he arrives with a 16 year old girl hanging to his neck!” She blushed sheepishly. “Think nothing of it.” Devaguhya smiled and kissed the young girl on her forehead and whispered. “You are favored of Life, little one. If you ever need me … reach out with your mind and I will hear!”
He should have given stronger credence to the unease that grew in him! The signals that he had misjudged his real mission!
Season 5 wrote:As the months pass by ... a strange hunger is beginning to make itself known within you...
Devaguhya, ignored the signs, continued his gentle approach; and his prophet paid the price!
Season 6 wrote:AkAza in Ghalali is suddenly struck by a poisoned dart, and he shrieks in sudden pain as the poison blooms within his veins: the killer, triumphant but also quite insane, shouts ... before fleeing, pursued by your guards and Ghalali's own. ... In the meantime,AkAza 's agony is a horror to behold as his flesh becomes turgid and swollen, blackened by poison, his eyes bulge out of his sockets, his shrieks are reduced to gurgling, and finally he explodes into a shower of dark festering entrails and flesh, causing dozens of people to recoil in horror and disgust. What is left of the Prophet is little more than torn clothes and fragments of skin.
Most recently Devaguhya had been again taught the lesson of Eiran. This world did not respond to gentleness!!
Season 11 wrote:One evening as you and Tireela are walking separately ... your First Paragon is attacked from the shadows by a mysterious figure ... A strange, eerie silence surrounds them as Tireela defends herself valiantly and lands a few blows, but the attacker appears not to be seriously hampered and he eventually overpowers her, slashing her throat and cutting off her head, which it puts into a black sack. You perceive the death of Tireela and hasten to avenge her, but by the time you arrive the attacker has gone, leaving behind only her headless body ...
Devaguhya had greived having to tell Saltim that his little girl was dead - decapitated!! He should have learned from the world Narie! A world vibrant with life that had been taken from him!! Life’s very essence ripped from his dominion! Because of his reluctance to be as hard as he needed to be, Narie's Lifeforce had been lost. And now Eiran was teaching him the same lesson. Gentleness, in a world as flawed as Eiran, in a world neglected by the AllFather, was fatal. Worse, it was irresponsible ... for Devaguhya knew better.

A decision to be made. His followers sensed the deific crossroads. Should he ignore his sense of foreboding, and try again the path of gentleness as some of his followers thought?
Season 12 wrote:... schismatic followers ... reached a critical point, striving to remake you in their image! It is up to you to decide whether you wish to do so, or if you want to risk defying them. ... the schismatics see you as the Bringer of Life, a benevolent and pacifistic deity which seeks only to promote the cause of Life in the world, fighting Death and striving to make the world a place of bounty.

Or should Devaguhya continue on the path he had set for himself? Was it the only way to save Eiran's Lifeforce ... for more promising worlds? That path was seen by a growing number of his followers:
Season 12 wrote:A splinter group of your followers preaches an apocalyptic version of your teachings, claiming that the day is nigh when Life will be withdrawn from all but his worshipers, and even the Life of theAllFather will be extinguished, devoured by Devaguhya.
Saltim entered the temple. The strong gentle man had been permanently changed by the death of his daughter. His strength was magnified considerably ... but no gentleness remained. Saltim knelt at the altar. "Lord, I feel such anger! I should have been there to protect her!! How could this happen? I have heard rumors it was an agent of the AllFather who killed Tireela. Who else would have had the power? My lord, your teachings are correct. I had worried that the hard path you lead was wrong. I now know it is not hard enough!! Forge us!! Temper us stronger than the hardest metal!! Temper ME to help lead Life's forces!!!

Devaguhya listened to Saltim. He felt his pain and anguish. And then a growing sense of anger ... of fury ... in both deity and man. A booming voice filled the air, "I have listened to your pleas! The decision is made! I will no longer shirk from the hard path!! We both will steel ourselves. Pity, gentleness, kindness, even love, are weaknesses we can no longer afford!" Power reaches out and surrounds Saltim. Life's Paragons need no prophet, but they now have - in the fury of Life's anger - a Lord Marshall!! And when the glow of power fades ... Lifestorm stands ready to lead! And Devaguhya Himself is changed!!
Last edited by Madadeva on Thu Aug 06, 2009 5:58 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Eugen Razvan
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Post by Eugen Razvan »

Silister Oord was coiled about the central mast of The Bloody Hurricane, looking to the south with anxious glances. He could see Nyitha, but there was no sign of the port town, and vast plumes of smoke rose into the shimmering sky. Debris littered the water, and occasionally he could see the bodies of yekiths floating in the churning water. In the distance was a deep rumbling sound, as though something immense was walking across the continent.

As he was regarding the shimmering energy in the sky above Nyitha a vast bulge of water rose up ahead of the Bloody Hurricane. The water broke and a mighty wave smashed down on the decks. The sailing vessel rocked in the aftermath and Silister Oord slithered down so that he would be swaying so much.

A vast purple-black worm was rising from the ocean. "My lord," the Yekith stammered. "I am honoured by your presence."

"You have served me well," Nor Yekith's said with a voice that churned the water. "Hence, why I am tasking you again."

Although he was honoured by his god manifesting to him, Silister Oord could not help feeling frustrated; he had planned to spend a season relaxing in the neural pits of Krolsh. "How may I further serve you?"

"I have destroyed Calais and transformed her essence and flesh into a new god. Vashitva. Return to the lands once belonging to Calais. You will act as my Voice there, and assist with her new cult."

"Calais . . . killed? Impossible . . . you mutated a god?"

"The very energy in me that drives my mutagenic ability . . . the Urge of the Pupae . . . I finally understand how to restructure a being of great power the way a larva transforms into a winged insect. However, I digress. This ship will turn around and return to where it left port."

Terrified sailors were swarming into the holds below deck. In one instance, Nor Yekith blasted them with red lightning. It looked like thick red veins were threading their way into the ship. The sailors clutched their heads, screaming. Each head dissolved and the point where the neck connected to the shoulders became a puckered orifice. The headless sailors shambled back out on to the deck and manned their posts.

The Bloody Hurricane turned around in a silent sea.
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Post by Zephyr »

...

...

...

Weeks go by. Weeks of... nothing. Nothing whatsoever.

But this cannot last. Reality - existence - will not be denied. Not forever. In the grand scheme of things, not for a very long time at all. Hearing Brid and... someone I do not know speak of family forces reality back into me. Forces me to return to awareness.

And so, there is pain. There is psychic and emotional pain the likes of which I never imagined possible. How can any being endure this much?? I have no idea.

But pain, it seems, teaches many things. I have learned a great truth. About Good and Evil. It comes to me as a lightning bolt through the horror that Eiran has become. It grants me a lucidity that is contradictory to the excruciation I am immersed in, and do not expect to ever escape while I live. (If Keev had not left me, I might have been helped out of this. Who could have guessed she was but the first woman I would lose...) I do not know who else knows this truth, but I have never heard anyone speak of it, nor read it in my father's rather extensive writings about Good and Evil. (Writings which, now, seem childlike in their simplicity.)

The truth is this: Evil will win. Simple, but there it is. At times, Good strikes its blows; wins a battle; buys a little more time. But, having lost a battle, does Evil turn to Good? No. It seethes. It sits in its rage and fury, and it festers. It ferments. It becomes even more Evil.

And it returns. Always, it returns.

And when it does? Good is not prepared. It has sat back, triumphant, congratulating itself for its cleverness, and become complacent. Less alert. It has hoped that last defeat taught Evil to live and let live. But Evil does not. And when it returns, Good sits, open-mouthed, stunned.

And when Good loses a battle? It does not become more Good in defeat, as Evil becomes more Evil. No, at some point, after enough defeats, or a defeat of surpassing intensity, Good either also seethes in its rage and fury, and becomes Evil, or it is lost to despair.
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Brid
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Post by Brid »

The truth is this: Evil will win. Simple, but there it is. At times, Good strikes its blows; wins a battle; buys a little more time. But, having lost a battle, does Evil turn to Good? No. It seethes. It sits in its rage and fury, and it festers. It ferments. It becomes even more Evil.

And it returns. Always, it returns.

And when it does? Good is not prepared. It has sat back, triumphant, congratulating itself for its cleverness, and become complacent. Less alert. It has hoped that last defeat taught Evil to live and let live. But Evil does not. And when it returns, Good sits, open-mouthed, stunned.

And when Good loses a battle? It does not become more Good in defeat, as Evil becomes more Evil. No, at some point, after enough defeats, or a defeat of surpassing intensity, Good either also seethes in its rage and fury, and becomes Evil, or it is lost to despair.
This is nonsense!

First of all, since when was The Lord of Forests 'good'???

Bhakti was 'good'. Zephyr is God of Forests, of Trees. Do trees have the morality of humans? Is the beetle that bores into the trunk 'evil' because it does what it can to survive? Is the tree 'evil' that spreads its roots into the foundation of a house built in the wrong place?

The depressed one speaks of 'good' succumbing to the victory of 'evil' and so becoming evil itself. There is another way!

A victim, of good, of evil, of just plain circumstance, can rise above their immediate (weak) reaction, can derive satisfaction from ignoring a seeming wrong, and continuing existence, towards their goal.

The worse the perceived slight, the more that a being can prove strong. Think as Brid does, and become stronger, Nature!
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Arcadia
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Post by Arcadia »

A victim, of good, of evil, of just plain circumstance, can rise above their immediate (weak) reaction, can derive satisfaction from ignoring a seeming wrong, and continuing existence, towards their goal.
There is an old saying among my human followers on Imray. It says, "Hate is good. It keeps a man alive. It gives him strength."

Zephyr's rage will indeed give him strength. As Nor Yekith's malice has made him a powerful and feared deity so Zephyr will enjoy the same superiority if he succumbs to his hate.

Evil is purity. Evil is focus. Evil is tenacious. Evil is diligent. Evil will never stop. Only good is complacent. Only good will cease its work thinking it complete. And that is the ultimate downfall of good. It trusts and that is its weakness.

Zephyr had the right of it when he said that the good can only sit open-mouthed and stunned at evil. Evil would never be caught unaware.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
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Post by Brid »

And yet, as the 'least' of Brid's followers knows, to respond in any way to aggression, or to those that wrong you, only demeans oneself and empowers the other party.

The Barking One has previously shown weakness by joining with the Salty One to attack The Worm. And yet, before that, set an exemplary example to the Pantheon by not responding with aggression, when threatened by the alliance of the Eclipse.

Follow the nature of the tree, Lord of the Forests: stand tall despite the storm that surrounds you. Ignore it, and even if struck by lightning, remain true to this principle and send forth new green shoots when the chance arises.

As The Worm's new flunky says, 'good' is complacent and weak. But what this mutated one doesn't understand is, that 'evil' is just as weak, and will turn inwards and feed on itself it if it gets no response from those it would persecute.

-Be neither good nor evil, just be thyself
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Arcadia
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Post by Arcadia »

And yet, as the 'least' of Brid's followers knows, to respond in any way to aggression, or to those that wrong you, only demeans oneself and empowers the other party.
Spoken like a true victim. Only the complacency of goodness deems aggression an inappropriate act. Complacency invites further aggression. This is the very attitude that will destroy good.
As The Worm's new flunky says, 'good' is complacent and weak. But what this mutated one doesn't understand is, that 'evil' is just as weak, and will turn inwards and feed on itself it if it gets no response from those it would persecute.
Evil does not need to feed upon itself. It is far too industrious. How little good understands the nature of evil. How limited its scope of vision.

-Be neither good nor evil, just be thyself
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
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Post by Eugen Razvan »

Well said, Vasitva. Malice is simply the will to power. There is always something to dominate or to harvest, because the universe is infinite. Malice will always see an opportunity to express itself on whatever is available.

Malice is endless - an urge that will never satiated but an urge that finds itself with no limits.
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Post by Madadeva »

T’esta approached Madadeva’s reformed main temple in Haylm. Revelers were cavorting on the temple steps. Dwarrow ale and all types of intoxicating beverages were being consumed. She was shocked to see that slaves not only served the celebrants, but were also used as furniture! The many Paragon’s that walked by were worshiped as gods themselves. With a touch from a Paragon, a partier experienced waves upon waves of orgasmic pleasure. Often, for amusement, a Paragon would slowly consume the lifeforce and soul of a slave. As the slave fell to dust, the onlookers would laugh at how all through their destruction, the slave begged to be consumed faster! While T’esta had heard about the decadence and debauchery that surrounded Madadeva’s temples; the reality was far worse than she could have imagined! Banners shouted the success Madadeva and the Sunset Court had achieved against Tawhiri-matea; proudly exclaiming that none could stand against Madadeva and the alliance of the Sunset Court!!

T’esta walked carefully through the throng. Of the Paragons who had switched their allegiance to Halideva, she alone stayed close to the center of Madadeva’s power. She believed in her heart that somehow she could bring her Lord back to the light. Did not the omens tell her people that Devaguhya would save Eiran!? How could they have been so wrong? How could the gentle soul she had known transform into this? Her mind wandered back to the first season of her friendship with the Lord of Life.
The morning found Devaguhya and T’esta watching the dawn from the highest spire in the castle. They greeted the morning in silence. Down below, the followers of Orlen made plans to return home. Devaguhya turned to the high princess and held each of her hands in his. They looked into each other’s eyes in deep friendship. We are allied against the ills that will beset this age.
No!! She would not give up. She did not believe he was beyond redemption.

As she entered the temple she saw Lifestorm. She sighed deeply, another gentle soul corrupted. How had this occurred? She sent a prayer to the Allfather … why?? But if he sent an answer she hears it not. Lifestorm was also enjoying the celebration. But where most revelers were drinking their fill, Lifestorm was being given slaves to consume! He laughed at how the slaves fought for the privilege to be next in line.

“Saltim”, T’esta said with a whisper as she drew close. Come back to us. “That name no longer has meaning to me.” And then he spit, “Why are you here traitor!” T’esta stood tall, she was still a high princess and she would not be cowed. “I have not given up on our Lord … nor you!” And with a smart turn, she moved to the center of the room near the altar and stretched out her arms. “DEVAGUHYA!!! Hear my pleas. For the sake of our friendship, come to me, let me help you back from this evil incarnation!!” And her prayers were answered. An image coalesced in front of her. Not fully manifested but clearly in the room. “Come to me, T’esta!” She could see a tear falling from his eye. “Your love is redeeming me!!” She moved to him, arms outstretched. “Come to me Lifestorm”, the God called, “let your redemption and transformation begin as well!” Lifestorm moved close to the pair, and Madadeva’s essence merged into his prime Paragon. Less a takeover, than cohabitation; both minds were active and participating in the sensation. “Take us into your embrace, T’esta! Redeem us!!” She pulled Lifestorm close, tears flowing. “I knew I could save you!!!”

“Let us kiss you to celebrate our redemption”, the merged Lifestorm and Madadeva whispered. But something was wrong … in the undercurrent of the pleasure of the kiss, T’esta sensed not love … but HUNGER! And she sensed her lifeforce ebbing. NO!!! Suddenly, an evil laugh exploded from Lifestorm. The merged being spoke in Lifestorms’s voice. Just as my lord was transformed, I too have been remade … better. I am Desire’s HUNGER. And you are my first meal!! A gloved hand smacked T’esta so hard across the face that she fell to the floor. A wave of Madadeva’s power and she was naked … exposed to all the revelers, many who had moved into the temple and had been snickering at her naiveté!! “NOOoo!!”, she screamed; a sound forlorn and heartbroken. Hunger reached down to her and roughly pulled her nude form to his embrace. “Now feed us!!” Spasms of ecstasy filled her body as she felt herself die. But only her body responded. Her mind’s last though was simply, “How could I have been so wrong ….”
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Post by The Void »

News travels fast. Each second of everyday is awash with information flowing from lips to ear and parchment to eyes. Floating along the currents of the wind were words of interest for the black hole of global consciousness.

In this eternity of information was one passing moment of interest, for in this moment one particular bit of news was expanding across Eiran like a drop of ink.

This moment consisted of many weeks and months. Whilst a considerable length of time by mortal standards, this was but one grain of sand upon the vast beach of eternity. For the Void of the universe is everlasting. It is at once what has been, what is and what shall be.

In this blink of eternity hooded riders galloped across continents, carrier pigeons fluttered into windows and town criers chanted. Whilst often countless miles apart all of these carried with them but one message.

To the many peoples of Eiran.

This is a declaration to you all. For many years Enstorm has felt no one rule. For years countless, it has been divided between many creeds and political feelings. It has seen war and it has seen pain. Yet now that has come to an end.

The enlightened have swept across this continent, and with them they bring the peace that can only be found in unification. Together these people have began to understand the glory of eternity for what it is. No longer are they shrouded by falsehood beliefs or direction.

Enstorm has seen much devastation of late. Our once great rulers were drowned in the halls of The Stile. Thousands of our people drowned upon the seas of anger. Followers of false gods have persecuted those who but only acknowledged the truth of all existence. Mighty demons have brough hate upon the grand city of Khes. The land of Enstorm is stained with the blood of its people.

But no more shall this taint remain. Like the phoenix from the ashes, a new land shall be born. From the long tarred and torn Enstorm rises the Enlightened State of Inritus. This majestic isle is no longer its war torn predecessor. Inritus is a haven of enlightenment. It is here that the many who wish to seek out eternity in peace can do so.

For the armies of Inritus are many and strong. They will defend their homeland with hearts as unlimited as the Void of the universe itself. This island nation shall be a refuge, for its land shall not tolerate war. Be warned, if any are to bring war to this land, Inritus shall respond with utmost might, until any and all aggressors are destroyed in earnest.

Do not fear however. We do not wish any harm upon you. We do not have aspirations of Empire. We do not wish the deaths of followers of any creed, false or otherwise. All we wish is for our island to remain sacred and untouched by the warmongers of others.

It is so, that Enstorm is no more. The Enlightened State of Inritus is the new centre of culture and knowledge in Eiran. From now on it shall be an island of peace, behind a strong arm, under the eternal protection of The Void.

For any who wish to communicate with Inritus and her people, the Council of Enlightenment is seated upon its mountain palace in Khes. We will hear the words from all and any representatives of the peoples of Eiran.

Peace and Enlightenment to all and Glory to Inritus!


And it was so, that Enstorm became but a footnote upon the ever evolving history of Eiran, as Inritus began its life anew.
speak ov it not as one
speak ov it not as none
speak ov it not at all
for its continual
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Post by The Numen »

Captain Collins was the first in his Pride out the window. The commander had tasked them with sneaking into the General’s command center, to test security there. He’d always felt that he should never order his Pride to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. So, when it came time to scale the walls of the tower, he asked for a paw up to the ledge, and crept outside.

The storm was about to break, but the rain hadn’t started. He knew that the guards would be trying to get under cover to avoid the raid, so this was his best chance. No houka liked to be in the rain. But a few minutes, they’d overcome their natural feline tendencies, and would force themselves outside again. But for now, he felt his unit would have the best chance of getting up the side of the tower before they were spotted.

When they were only 20’ from the railing of the observation platform atop the tower, the storm broke. Along with a burst of rain, there were sharp gusts of wind, especially that high up. Sergeant Maher was faster up the wall, and his job was to make sure there was nobody there before the rest of the Pride crept up. But as he was looking over the ledge, and making his move to secure a location for the rest, his claws lost their grip on the stone, and he slipped. He managed to grab hold and avoid falling to the ground below, but his foot had already struck the Captain squarely in the eye.

As he fell to the ground himself, Collins’ only thought was to lecture Maher on being more careful. But then Anaya took him to his final reward, where his bliss lasted but a few months before he was called away.

-------

First came the smell of burnt flesh. No other smell is quite like it, and it was all he knew, now. He could hear words, before he knew what was happening. No sight, and no touch yet. Then the words started to make sense. He could only hear from one ear, and it didn’t seem that the words were meant for him.

“… was the ears. The ear drums are very delicate, and they’re one of the first parts of the corpse to become unusable. Shortly after that is the lungs, oddly enough. Most of these are already too far gone to hear, and in a short while they wouldn’t be able to inhale enough to speak. In the end, that was a benefit, though.”

As he began to understand the words, he also started to feel the pain from his torso. It felt like his guts and diaphragm were on fire. One arm also hurt, and the other was simply numb.

“How so, master?” said a second voice, younger and more timid.

“In order to solve the problem of mindless corpses not understanding commands, I’ve taken to putting souls into the bodies.” The voice paused, “Oh, not their original souls, just some souls that I found lying about.” This one was clearly full of himself, and wanting an audience for his lecture.

“With souls in the body, there’s the ability to understand commands. They shouldn’t remember their former lives, or have any kind of free will. But they should at least have the ability to know what I mean when I say ‘Sweep the floor every morning.’ You have no idea how annoying it is to teach a zombie the concept of morning, much less the intricacies of time necessary to understand the word ‘every’.”

“But, even with the ability to comprehend simple commands and carry them out, how to command them if they can’t hear? Clearly we won’t want to enable enough of their personalities to let them read commands. And nobody wants to use up that much parchment just to get the servants to take out the garbage.”

The voice was getting more excited now, as if he’d been waiting eagerly to tell this tale for quite some time. “You’re but a novice, but you should be familiar with the Ritual of Binding, yes?”

“Um… yes sir. I’ve only been able to successfully perform the Ritual once, with Master Abaraxes assistance.”

“Have you, now? Good for you. Most commendible. Most students at your level haven’t been able to finish the ritual even once. Master Abaraxes should be praised for his skill. Now, you are familiar with the point in the ritual, where you reach out with your mind, through the Thought Form of Tranquility, to cajole the spirit back into the body?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“It is possible, with the proper focus of will, to perform the same feat with a spirit that is already bound to a body. The Thought Form is very much different, but the underlying concept is the same. And, since the spirit is already bound to the flesh, there’s no need to cajole. The spirit is captured and bound, and obliged to obey whatever commands it has. Though this technique, one can provide new commands even though the body can’t hear spoken words.”

Pleased with himself now, the voice continues “So, help me with this one, will you? This Dwarrow was burned to death in a house fire, but I think it’ll do for digging basements. Both arms work, even if one of them has no flesh. Phew… you can still smell the burning, I guess my supplier got this corpse fresh from the blaze. Since it can’t hear us, it won’t start moving until I order it to do so. So, lift the torso up for me, while I give it some orders to follow. Like so.”

A hand gripped him on the shoulder, the one that burned so much, not the numb one, and he could hear the same voice in his head this time. “Open your eyes. Stand on your own.

Focus your eyes on me. I am the man in black robes. Now, follow me at a distance of three arms length, and wait for further orders.”

Out loud again, the voice continued, “Now, give it a moment to get used to the new form, and then it should follow me out the door and down to the building site, where I’ll give it a shovel and let it get to digging.”
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The Numen
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Post by The Numen »

In a manor house, on the hills overlooking the city from the north, Matron Graham settled her shawl about herself more comfortably. It seemed harder and harder to be comfortable, these days. No matter how she sat, something always ached. With all the shawls and blankets she had piled across her legs, her paws were always chilly. Even now, on this gorgeous summer day, sitting on the veranda in full sunlight (except for the parasol her maid was holding to protect her eyes), they were still cold. It was such a bother, really. All that she'd done for the world, after all this time, and all she wanted was for her feet to be warm. Before her fur had turned grey, it warmed in the sun much better.

She noticed across the landscape below her, small dots moving about the grass. Those must be her grandkittens, playing with their nannies. Her once sharp eyes were a bit dim these days, though there was a certain amount of pride from the fact that even the sharpest eyes would have trouble seeing them at this distance. That she'd risen to be the matron of such an estate seemed a just payment for her life in service to her family. As they chased and pounced on each other, or hid in the trees of the orchard and attacked from above, they demonstrated that she'd been successful in her life. In the end, she was happy with the place that the Grey Goddess had found for her in the world, cold feet not withstanding.

She purred to her maid, "Ginger, that lunch was filling and quite good. I think I'll take a nap now. You can go inside, but I'll ring the bell for you later if I need anything." And with that, she pulled her shawl down over her eyes to block the sun, and tilted her head to the side to rest. 20 minutes later, she breathed her last breath, her soul going to Anaya's care. For a while, she felt bliss.

-------

She was aware of the table under her. It was hard against her naked back and legs. After a moment, she took stock of things. She couldn't move. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She could feel cold air upon her chest and stomach, and the icy stone of the table. But feeling the cold stone beneath her, she could feel the parts of her that felt that cold.

How can I feel cold stone there? Where’s my fur? How can I feel stone against both my upper thighs and calves at the same time… houka legs aren’t shaped that way.

Over time, it became clear that she was no longer a houka. No tail, legs and arms were straight. Her skin was naked, and that made her feel more vulnerable than anything else. She couldn’t move anything, but she suspected that she had no claws anymore.

She felt a finger, rough but warm… oh so warm… caress her breast. She only had one pair of breasts in this form. As the finger made contact, she could hear speech, as if she were walking into the room mid-conversation… no… it wasn’t sound. This was simply words. They were in her head, but did not pass through her ears; ears which were oh so tiny, and on the sides of her naked head.

“…cellent. The soul should be present in the body, now. I wonder if it’s aware of…” then the finger finished its pass and was gone.

A hand was now pressed against the side of her face. Was that her face? It was so oddly formed… oblong… extending to the top of the crown, instead of along the snout. No whiskers, no fangs in the mouth, and no fur to keep the hand from invading her private space. “Can you hear me, little beauty? I chose a wonderful receptacle for you, oh yes I did.” The hand caressed along her jaw, then ran a finger gently across her new lips. Lips with no split on the top, she noticed. “Not 14 years old, just starting to bud, and never touched while she was alive. I paid extra for that, I’ll have you know. But it will be worth it, when I’m the first and last to ever touch you.”

-------

“Fleshtoy” as she came to know herself, stood in the cupboard. She didn’t know how long she was there, only that sometimes she would feel Master’s hand against her flesh, and hear his words in her mind. The cabinet was black inside, but she could still see when Master ordered her outside. She only saw his bedchamber, even then.

Over time, her sense of touch was failing. She could no longer feel the bed under her, or the blankets against her face or naked chest while he was enjoying her. Sometimes, she could hear his voice commenting that the decay was progressing now, and wondering if her inability to feel objects would make her too clumsy to pleasure him anymore. She could always feel his touch perfectly, so she’d been able to move her hands and other parts in ways gentle enough to fulfill his needs. And he’d been pleased with this. In rare moments of lucidity, she considered that it was odd she could feel his hands on her hips and his ‘Rod of Power’ deep within her, but at the same time couldn’t feel her head’s impact on the headboard, or the time she’d tripped and broken a rib against the bureau.
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Post by The Numen »

Steven stared across the clearing at the boys from the Wharfside Skirmishers. They’d been making inroads into the territory of the Hilltop Ramblers, so the older boys had rounded up Steven and his friends to help push them off once and for all. He hadn’t actually been admitted to the Ramblers yet, but Calico had told them all that if they did well against those Wharfside strays, it would go well for them.

One of the older Skirmisher boys (They were all boys, really.) raised an old board with nails sticking out of it over his head, and started the Skirmisher’s battle cry, sounding more like a feral cat’s mating yowl than a real fighting cry. But all of the skirmishers took up the call, and started running towards them.

Thinking to make a name for himself, Steven ran towards the leader, cutting diagonally across his own gang in the process. He tripped up Big Tom on his way in, but caught the skirmisher unawares, and tackled him across the legs, knocking him to the ground.

The older boy’s battle cry stopped mid-yowl in surprise, as he fell onto his face. This got a couple of the other boys, on both sides, chuckling. Steven looked around in pleasure that he’d made an impression. Then, the older boy cursed and swung the board straight at his head. Steven turned at the curse, just in time to see the point of the nail from far too close.

-------

He felt the table beneath him, colder than he was used to. There was the same period of getting used to this strangely human body. Plus some confusion as an additional change was noticed. He was now human, and he was now female. It was the legs that were more disconcerting than anything else, but he’d only been 8 when he died.

He felt the hand pry an eye open, and saw a strange human face peering at him from very close. Inside his mind, shouting louder than anything he’d ever heard before “I know you can hear me by now, you bitch! I’ve waited too long for this, but I finally have you all to myself. Let’s see how close to fully awake I can bring you. I bet you regret spurning me now, don’t you Eliza? You’re going to feel things, and I want you to respond to them. I *NEED* you to respond to them, like before you did when your father could protect you. I order you not to stop me, and not to escape. Master Abraxas can’t save you now. Can’t save is precious daughter at all.” He paused, “But I think I would enjoy you TRYING to escape. Just a little.”

Steven felt the first touch of the knife against his new breast, and heard “But by all means, please scream if the pain gets too much.” And since he’d been given permission, he screamed. Even as the pain drowned out everything else, the voice sounded very different than what he’d remembered.

-------

Over the next few months, many more souls were summoned from their rest and placed into the dead bodies of total strangers. They were used for toil in the construction of new buildings, and for menial tasks cleaning out the current buildings. They were used for the pleasure of the Master, and certain of his colleagues. Some of them were damaged, eventually becoming unable to perform their tasks. The pieces were thrown away, dormant souls still held within.

All told, over 500 corpses were animated like this, all to do the Master’s bidding
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