[X] Soul-Thief's New Face - Rena takes a trapped soul, and stretches its form over herself or another, taking on its appearance fully. This includes voice and accent, and the trapped soul whispers subliminal hints to her that helps her adjust her mannerisms and patterns of speech - though a keen observer might notice particularly out-of-character actions. The soul returns to its prison at the end of this spell, which Rena can end at her whim.
[Exalted] The Dragon's Spite
- Thread starter EarthScorpion
- Start date
- Mature Fantasy
ImperatorV
The Laughing One
- Location
- The Voyaging Realm
[x] Soul-Bound Servitor - Taking a trapped soul, Rena draws its strength to animate a servitor made from the elements. The servitor wears the face of the stolen soul, but has none of its memories and serves her loyally until it is destroyed. More powerful souls produce more potent servitors. The soul is expended in the creation of the servitor, but it endures until it is destroyed.
We have stealth stuff already. Let's get expendable minions instead. Expendable minions can solve many problems. Disguises are not universally useful.
We have stealth stuff already. Let's get expendable minions instead. Expendable minions can solve many problems. Disguises are not universally useful.
[x] Soul-Bound Servitor - Taking a trapped soul, Rena draws its strength to animate a servitor made from the elements. The servitor wears the face of the stolen soul, but has none of its memories and serves her loyally until it is destroyed. More powerful souls produce more potent servitors. The soul is expended in the creation of the servitor, but it endures until it is destroyed.
[X] Soul-Thief's New Face - Rena takes a trapped soul, and stretches its form over herself or another, taking on its appearance fully. This includes voice and accent, and the trapped soul whispers subliminal hints to her that helps her adjust her mannerisms and patterns of speech - though a keen observer might notice particularly out-of-character actions. The soul returns to its prison at the end of this spell, which Rena can end at her whim.
Anima Banners
The Anima Banner
As represented in this system, "motes" as a concept have been entirely denatured (and collapsed into physical/mental stamina), the classic version of the anima banner has been entirely made redundant. However, both the genre emulation and the conventions of Exalted make it desirable that it exists in some form.
As a result, the anima is something that can be flared by Exalts (and other powerful beings) as a way of effectively "surging" power, trading endurance for a spike of power. It's physically and/or mentally exhausting (depending on how this power is being used) - even short bursts of physical enhancement will result in her needing to rest and extended use can knock her out. Overuse stresses the body so much that the Exalt will probably be nursing torn muscles, migraines, nosebleeds, and other such marks of extreme exertion. Use of an anima flare for mental pursuits (such as extended studying or genius insight) is less immediately crippling than when used physically, but is similarly debilitating once it kicks in.
As one of the Terrestrial Exalted, when Rena flares her anima, she increases all skills by one rank. Note that this is a "pseudo-rank" and does not grant additional charms. Additionally, she gains the ability to shape and control her element in the surrounding area. This is a crude, and not particularly precise effect without specialised training - but, for example, she could have vines grab someone in combat, or make petals appear around her when a handsome man catches sight of her.
In non-combat situations, when Rena flares her anima, a faint halo of green light surrounds her like sunlight through a tree canopy. This does not automatically break concealment but isn't particularly subtle and any half-way educated occultist will know what she's doing. When she's fighting for her life and her blood is up, or in other dramatic moments this aura can expand up to several metres from her body, forming a dramatic fighting aura.
The malicious Anathema have their own strangely similar powers, though it is said that when they call on their terrible prowess, even the Terrestrial Exalted must avert their eyes from such unforeseen might.
As represented in this system, "motes" as a concept have been entirely denatured (and collapsed into physical/mental stamina), the classic version of the anima banner has been entirely made redundant. However, both the genre emulation and the conventions of Exalted make it desirable that it exists in some form.
As a result, the anima is something that can be flared by Exalts (and other powerful beings) as a way of effectively "surging" power, trading endurance for a spike of power. It's physically and/or mentally exhausting (depending on how this power is being used) - even short bursts of physical enhancement will result in her needing to rest and extended use can knock her out. Overuse stresses the body so much that the Exalt will probably be nursing torn muscles, migraines, nosebleeds, and other such marks of extreme exertion. Use of an anima flare for mental pursuits (such as extended studying or genius insight) is less immediately crippling than when used physically, but is similarly debilitating once it kicks in.
As one of the Terrestrial Exalted, when Rena flares her anima, she increases all skills by one rank. Note that this is a "pseudo-rank" and does not grant additional charms. Additionally, she gains the ability to shape and control her element in the surrounding area. This is a crude, and not particularly precise effect without specialised training - but, for example, she could have vines grab someone in combat, or make petals appear around her when a handsome man catches sight of her.
In non-combat situations, when Rena flares her anima, a faint halo of green light surrounds her like sunlight through a tree canopy. This does not automatically break concealment but isn't particularly subtle and any half-way educated occultist will know what she's doing. When she's fighting for her life and her blood is up, or in other dramatic moments this aura can expand up to several metres from her body, forming a dramatic fighting aura.
The malicious Anathema have their own strangely similar powers, though it is said that when they call on their terrible prowess, even the Terrestrial Exalted must avert their eyes from such unforeseen might.
- Location
- boundless optimism
[X] The Wandering Soul
big fan of slaughtering champions of justness and corrupting them into mindless slavering beasts yep yep
O-or at least I would be if I was evil
big fan of slaughtering champions of justness and corrupting them into mindless slavering beasts yep yep
O-or at least I would be if I was evil
Varder
Tired Cultist
- Location
- Hell
[X] The Soul is the Blade - Through dark arts, Rena scourges a trapped soul into an animate weapon. Such weapons have a strange and obviously uncanny aspect. She can wield this weapon herself, or if she invests more power the weapon can float by her and obey simple instructions. Such a soul-blade lasts for a year and a day before dispersing.
- Location
- Virginia
[X] Soul-Bound Servitor - Taking a trapped soul, Rena draws its strength to animate a servitor made from the elements. The servitor wears the face of the stolen soul, but has none of its memories and serves her loyally until it is destroyed. More powerful souls produce more potent servitors. The soul is expended in the creation of the servitor, but it endures until it is destroyed.
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- Location
- Israel
[X] Soul-Bound Servitor - Taking a trapped soul, Rena draws its strength to animate a servitor made from the elements. The servitor wears the face of the stolen soul, but has none of its memories and serves her loyally until it is destroyed. More powerful souls produce more potent servitors. The soul is expended in the creation of the servitor, but it endures until it is destroyed.
[X] Soul-Bound Servitor - Taking a trapped soul, Rena draws its strength to animate a servitor made from the elements. The servitor wears the face of the stolen soul, but has none of its memories and serves her loyally until it is destroyed. More powerful souls produce more potent servitors. The soul is expended in the creation of the servitor, but it endures until it is destroyed.
Awww poor little goddess
Awww poor little goddess
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Shoujo Manga Effects On
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Exactly what I was thinking lol.
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] The Wandering Soul - Plucking out one of her trapped souls, Rena forges it into an intangible spirit with nightmarish powers. Rena can spy through the eyes of such wandering souls, and possess it to slip into other's dreams. The wandering soul serves for a year and a day, before dispersing.
I actually think the most useful effect would probably be either the automatons, which are more multifunctional, or the disguises, which fit Rena's styles better - but this is just so blatantly, cartoonishly eeeevil that I just can't help it.
I actually think the most useful effect would probably be either the automatons, which are more multifunctional, or the disguises, which fit Rena's styles better - but this is just so blatantly, cartoonishly eeeevil that I just can't help it.
@LotusPocus @Elero @Crimson Alchemis @veekie @GGreader @kichithewolf @Wellhello @BungieONI @Camellia @Xepheria @Kingofbooks
Apologies for this, but after some discussion with mechanics with people, I realised I'd inadvertently made the option you voted for more powerful than I intended, with the "unlimited re-use of soul" vs the other options which all expend the soul in question for a goal.
As a result, I have modified the text of the option, to add that extended use of a soul risks it escaping and the risk gets greater the longer you use it for, in an attempt to balance it vs the other ones and their "consumable" nature. Additionally, at an OOC level, I'd just like to say that Rena will not be being a Lunar with this spell, and will not be living using someone else's face for extended periods. I'm fine with tactical shapechanging (though not Lunar-level tactical) being a tool in her arsenal. I'm not going to have her avoid her enemies by living under a false face all the time. If I wanted to write that, I'd be running a Lunar quest.
I am notifying you like this so if you wish to change your vote, you can without feeling cheated that the option you voted for works differently when you actually get it.
The new text for the option is listed below.
Apologies for this, but after some discussion with mechanics with people, I realised I'd inadvertently made the option you voted for more powerful than I intended, with the "unlimited re-use of soul" vs the other options which all expend the soul in question for a goal.
As a result, I have modified the text of the option, to add that extended use of a soul risks it escaping and the risk gets greater the longer you use it for, in an attempt to balance it vs the other ones and their "consumable" nature. Additionally, at an OOC level, I'd just like to say that Rena will not be being a Lunar with this spell, and will not be living using someone else's face for extended periods. I'm fine with tactical shapechanging (though not Lunar-level tactical) being a tool in her arsenal. I'm not going to have her avoid her enemies by living under a false face all the time. If I wanted to write that, I'd be running a Lunar quest.
I am notifying you like this so if you wish to change your vote, you can without feeling cheated that the option you voted for works differently when you actually get it.
The new text for the option is listed below.
- Location
- France
Even better , now we can make mortal ennemies of the people we steal souls from. I see no downside.
Plus we still have the option to steal souls and then gloat in front of their loved ones while wearing their face that we killed them ( well that what Rena would do if she was evil, but she's not, it's just vile slander).
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'm super cool with this don't worry! I was wondering how Lunar esque she'd get with this and this is I think a nice solution.
[X] The Soul is the Blade - Through dark arts, Rena scourges a trapped soul into an animate weapon. Such weapons have a strange and obviously uncanny aspect. She can wield this weapon herself, or if she invests more power the weapon can float by her and obey simple instructions. Such a soul-blade lasts for a year and a day before dispersing.
[X] Soul-Bound Servitor - Taking a trapped soul, Rena draws its strength to animate a servitor made from the elements. The servitor wears the face of the stolen soul, but has none of its memories and serves her loyally until it is destroyed. More powerful souls produce more potent servitors. The soul is expended in the creation of the servitor, but it endures until it is destroyed.
BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Soul-Thief's New Face - Rena takes a trapped soul, and stretches its form over herself or another, taking on its appearance fully. This includes voice and accent, and the trapped soul whispers subliminal hints to her that helps her adjust her mannerisms and patterns of speech - though a keen observer might notice particularly out-of-character actions. The soul returns to its prison at the end of this spell, which Rena can end at her whim. Prolonged use of a single soul risks it escaping her grasp and passing on or seeking revenge when she ends the spell.
Replaced text.
Replaced text.
So, in retrospect, I kind of mucked up this vote. I offered too many options relative to how many voters I have, especially given three of them are servitor variants, and as a result we're in a situation where a clear majority is in favour of having some kind of servitor spell, but the plurality wants the face-stealing. This is a not-very-satisfactory outcome, because none of the votes can really be said to have a mandate from the player base.
Additionally, I've been trying to write the scene up ahead and game it out with how it looks like it'd work with the soul stealing, and it just doesn't work. I can't make it work with a smol goddess shape. It's not interesting to read and doesn't offer fun tactical options like the other three do. If she'd been human sized it might have worked, but... like this, no.
As a result, as a compromise position, I've chosen to give her the top two chosen spells (and you'll still get one more choice later). So Rena gains both Soul-Bound Servitor and Soul-Thief's New Face.
Additionally, I'm still not happy with the mechanics of the face-stealing, so there's a chance that it may be reworked further or substantially altered if I ever have a better way for it to work. The main thing is that I accept that the voterbase has a plurality in favour of Rena being able to be Shang Tsung and be a shape-shifting soul stealer. Even if the mechanics change, the sentiment has been acknowledged and will be respected.
Additionally, I've been trying to write the scene up ahead and game it out with how it looks like it'd work with the soul stealing, and it just doesn't work. I can't make it work with a smol goddess shape. It's not interesting to read and doesn't offer fun tactical options like the other three do. If she'd been human sized it might have worked, but... like this, no.
As a result, as a compromise position, I've chosen to give her the top two chosen spells (and you'll still get one more choice later). So Rena gains both Soul-Bound Servitor and Soul-Thief's New Face.
Additionally, I'm still not happy with the mechanics of the face-stealing, so there's a chance that it may be reworked further or substantially altered if I ever have a better way for it to work. The main thing is that I accept that the voterbase has a plurality in favour of Rena being able to be Shang Tsung and be a shape-shifting soul stealer. Even if the mechanics change, the sentiment has been acknowledged and will be respected.
IX. Starving Leopards
IX. Starving Leopards
"Aaah."
You're breathing heavily after this spell. It's not exactly easy, dragging the soul of even a minor house-spirit into a jade prison. Still, you managed it with no real struggles, with no real issues despite how long you've gone without using that magic. You stretch, cracking your knuckles with a satisfying pop.
A little bit of you is secretly very, very relieved. You were scared that the injuries you took might have damaged your control. Ignorant fools don't understand how sorcery isn't reading books of ancient lore and saying pretty words. It's something you put your all into; mind, body and soul. Your will is the river; your thoughts that which shapes its flow and your inked flesh the vessel you fill with power.
Well, at least it is the way you do it. There are those smug bastards in the Realm who look down on you as a provincial cousin and studied at the all-so-fancy Heptagram. They would probably say you're an inferior self-taught example of a sorceress who consorts with dark powers to make up for her lack of teaching.
Well, what do they know?! Them and their ancient pacts with elementals and great tomes of demonology and all the wealth of the Scarlet Empire to call upon! How dare they sneer at you! You don't need their elementals or their demons or their divine oaths! You had - and will have again - your darling princes!
"Can I eat her?" Sei asks hopefully.
Of course, you have Sei. Who is neither darling nor a prince. "No," you say.
"Well, that's petty. I brought you back your necklace."
You jab an angry finger at him. "You stole it in the first place!"
"Details, details. That doesn't make up for your lack of gratitude."
"It entirely does that!" You rub your arms. You're drying off, but it's starting to get chilly standing around. "No, I have plans for that soul. Such a weak and feeble creature, but with its own kind of power. Power I can draw upon. Power that will…"
He flicks his tails around, back safe up on the broken pillar far away from any water. "You're going to create a golem," he says, looking around the ruined hall.
"You can't just say that!" you snap.
"Who are you trying to impress exactly? You just stole the soul of the one person around here who might have been surprised by such revelations."
"I…" You consider your situation. "Shut up, Sei. Obviously I have a full explanation, but I have a toy boy to save. I really can't stand around…"
"Naked."
"... humouring you," you finish despite his quite rude interruption. "If you want to be useful, go find if there's anything I can wear in this place."
He curls up and goes to sleep, or at least pretends to. He doesn't want to be useful. It's all too typical.
Looking around, you try to find something you can draw on a surface with. Ah yes, the half-burned charcoals at the bottom of that overturned brass brazier should do the job. It's not ideal, but it'll do. Finding a clear-ish and dry bit of wall, you draw out an inner circle, then a larger outer one, and connect the two by looping petals. Then come the surrounding glyphs in Old Realm; Body, Mind, Shadow, Life, and Name.
Stepping back, you dust off your hands - which only manages to smear blackness over your left hand as well - and nod in approval of a job well done.
"Don't be so smug," Sei observes, which in your opinion is like water telling someone to not be so wet. "Drawing isn't hard."
"It's an important step," you say, centering your mind. Breathe. Breathe deep. Breath is the life; breath is power. In the Immaculate faith you were raised in, the moment when your heritage makes itself known is the Second Breath, and for how much you have cast off of your childhood faith, that isn't wrong.
Inhale, and feel the pulse of life. Inhale and feel the world around you stir. The power of the oak lies in the acorn. Smell wet leafmould, pine needles, and the sweet scent of the flowers that grow only in mountain valleys. That power lies within you. The hair in the back of your neck stands on end; not out of fear, but because it feels the urge to lay down roots and sprout. It obeys. Your whole body tingles as your hair starts to grow.
The power does not lie in your knowledge, in your undoubted wisdom, in the things you have learned. It lies in your blood.
You bite your lip, wincing at the sharp pain, and taste copper. Before it closes, you smear the blood over your lips. Leaning in, you press your lips against the centre of the flower, leaving a crimson mark on the wall.
"Rise!" you shout in Old Realm, throwing your arms wide open. Your head tilts back. A soft green corona embraces you like a lover, lifting you up onto your tiptoes. The stone floor under you creaks as flowers force their way through the cracks in the rock. "Golem, servant, slave! Take the life of my enemy and rise! Take this power and serve your master!
"My blood gives you life! Your will is mine! Your desires are mine! You live for me!"
The necklace floats free of your body, hovering in front of you. You can hear the spectral screams, as purple irises petals scatter themselves around. The house-spirit appears, a wavering spectral thing, before collapsing into a ball of violet light that is rapidly subsumed by your green.
You take a step forwards, upon a cushion of soft flowers that had not been here before. And another, until you can touch your charcoal circle. Gritting your teeth, you force the glowing light forwards, fighting the spirit's thirsty desire for life, until it touches where you kissed the wall.
Your bloody mark of your lips flares a leafy green, and oozes into the charcoal.
Five steps back, and with a clap, you bring your hands together. "Servant, I name you! Rise!" you command.
"You know, I've told you before that you don't need to do the whole kiss-of-blood thing," Sei observes. "You just insist on doing it because you like the idea that your kiss can arouse even the elements, let alone men."
He should shut up.
The wall explodes outwards. Stone crumbles down, and something climbs out through the plaster dust. Coughing, you wave your hand in front of your face to try to clear the air.
Your creation stands there mutely, awaiting your instruction. The soul of the house-spirit has been consumed, fed into your work. Nothing remains of what she was, apart from the blank-expressioned face on the beautiful statue you bought to life. It is a fine one, made from marble like the walls, with burned-in black marks that look like the ritual circle you used to make it. Its hair is moss; its eyes are fire and water.
The edges of the humanoid shaped hole in the wall are glowing a dull red. The heat presses up against your skin.
It says nothing. Of course it doesn't. You never gave these golems a voice. They're not made for talking. They're made for obeying you. And isn't that something wonderful. You have something around you that doesn't talk back, unlike Sei, and actually obeys you, unlike Sei.
Now. Time to find Amigere.
"Follow me," you order the golem, as you delicately start to pick your way across the broken floor of the ruined chamber. "Sei, you can ride on it. Tell me if you hear anything."
Taking the lead, you sneak up the dusty debris-laden marble stairs, which are cold underfoot and have a rotting carpet that feels even worse than the slippery stone. The golem's heavy footsteps follow you. The house spirit said that the goddess Yanbu lived all the way back, in the room that used to be the daimyo's. Luxury, that's the key; you need to just follow the trail back to the biggest, most ornate dwelling place in this divine palace. Now, where would that be?
Something catches your eye. One of the doors here has been opened recently. You can tell because the area in front of it has been swept clean by the door opening outwards. When you try the handle, it's locked - but it reinforces the idea that it's been used, because it's been polished smooth by many openings.
"Well. Golem, there appears to be a door in my way. Open it."
Its fist smashes through the handle and the door behind it, scattering splinters of wood down onto the stone.
You smile beatifically.
It's so nice to have servants again.
You tread the hallowed halls of the gods, and look at them in disdain. Because they're honestly a shitpile, pardon your Airtongue. They've been plundered. Or possibly simply stripped when the occupants left. You don't think the same people invaded these halls as sacked the place outside, because there's no sign of a fire-blooded melting the walls.
Still, you can see the remnants of where they once dwelt as you pick through the fallen halls. A bathhouse where the baths are only weeds and the fountains are clogged. A ballroom where none can dance, for the floor has collapsed. Luxurious apartments stripped bare where only hints of former glories remain.
In your search, you do find old musty linens tucked at the back of an armoire. There is a hint of the smell of roses to them, and a few drooping irises still blossom from the cloth. Once this was a goddess's undergarments, long forgotten. A holy relic to some. You just put them on with a small sigh of relief. You're cold, and since you're planning to murder an uppity spirit, excessive bouncing is inconvenient. They fit nearly perfectly, suggesting that whoever these once belonged to, they must have been an exceptionally beautiful woman with a gorgeous figure.
"Shoes, shoes…" no, her feet were tiny things, you already think less of her beauty, "... ah ha!" You pull out a crumpled silk bedsheet, yellowed with age and covered with intricate black geometric embroidery, and fashion it into a makeshift shawl.
"You look awful," Sei informs you, cattily.
You don't care. Having something that'll let you distract with movements of cloth and cover where your hands are will make Peacock School easier to practice. Anyway, he's just jealous that you make a bedsheet and graciously donated underwear look so damn good. It's not the first time you've had to fight for your life in such garb.
Some wives are just so lacking in understanding.
The first sign of life you find in these endless hallways is smell. Among all the rot and gentle decay, smoke is a sharp note that saws at the nose.
"Wait," you order the golem, and it immediately stops moving. Its footsteps are too loud and you don't want to stumble into trouble.
"I'm coming with you," Sei says softly, leaping down from the shoulder of the golem.
"Only if you keep quiet."
The two of you follow the growing smell. The flicker of firelight reflected through an inhumanly tall door tells you you've found your goal. Inching your way around the frame, you peek into the room.
Your first observation is that this was built for a giant. Everything is scaled for someone twice your height. The giant door that stands before you is suddenly put in a new context. The steps that lead into the room are inconveniently large and you're not looking forward to climbing down them. The centre room is sizable, and there are more oversized doors that lead into other parts of the quarters. The current occupant has piled up masonry around the oversized table and dragged in new furniture, but it still looks almost like a child is occupying the dwelling of an adult.
And not only in terms of size. Also in terms of cleanliness and care for the locale.
In the ruins of this once-sacred place, this is the last place that still clings onto a trace of its former glory. The ceiling might be blackened by soot, but the braziers still burn and take the edge off the chill. The draperies might be faded and tattered, but they've avoided the rot and the mould that afflicts the rest of the structure. And the treasures that might once have decorated this holy palace have been accumulated here, stacked into great mounds. There is armour here; chainmail and lances and war masks. There are tokens and lead prayer-slabs with engraved curses and polished stones. A mark of the wealth of the gods.
At least, that's what you'd say if it wasn't mostly all trash.
Because that's what it is. The chainmail is more rust than iron; the war masks look plagued with how their peeling paint comes off in strips; the coins are almost all copper. The kind of thing that people would toss into a pool to thank its spirits. There is no jade and precious little silver.
If you were here to plunder the house of the gods for your own gain, you would be sorely disappointed. You're still pretty upset. Peeved. Peeved is a good word. You were hoping there was treasure in here, but if this is the best they can offer, then you won't be able to take your justly deserved recompense for these petty spirits stealing your birdman.
Speaking of Amigere, you catch sight of him. He's in a cage on the floor that might truly have once been meant for a bird. It's finely ornamented and filigreed, and barely large enough for him. Oh, that poor boy! You're going to have to get him out of there! He'll be so grateful to you!
But you're not going to do that yet. It wouldn't be a good idea. Not until you can find out where the goddess is.
"Goodness me," Sei says softly. "Her room is even more of a mess than yours."
He's just winding you up. You don't have a room because vile horrible people chased you out of your fortress. As you fled, you saw flames licking from your quarters. They probably burned your library out of the fear of small-minded fools for learning.
You wait, patiently, and ignore his jibes. It's not too long before movement catches your eye. Within a divine sanctum, spirits cannot hide from the eyes of the world. She's not just a silhouette anymore as she enters from one of darkened doors, glowing faintly.
Her head is that of a lioness; a mangy, starving lioness. Her skin is too taught over her bones, and it draws back her lips so she's always baring her teeth. Patches of bare skin mottle her face. She's tall, yes, but there's nothing of her. She stands head and shoulders above you, but she's thinner than any human could be and still survive. Just skin, bones, and a few corded muscles. No fat to spare. Her orange robe is tattered and faded; you think it was once a rich red. Only her intricately engraved brass cuffs are still bright and shining.
You saw a leopard on the way down South, living on the edge of a sandport. Someone had said that you could tell that that leopard was an old sick male, driven from his territory and living off the creatures attracted to the sandport's rubbish. He'd been gnawing on a vulture on top of a rock.
She reminds you of that leopard; something old and sick and hungry, living in the places no one else wants.
The goddess Yanbu has a bowl in both hands, an oversized thing with what looks like torn up moss in it. Something green and probably not what humans are meant to eat, at least. She puts it in front of Amigere's cage.
"Eat up," she growls - and it is a growl, from a hoarse voice that you don't think speaks often. "You need to keep up your strength."
Amigere looks in the bowl nervously. "What is this?" he asks.
"Plants."
You wince. Amigere's expression is hard to read, but he takes out a handful and tries a pinch. "Wonderful, your divine majesty," he says. "You are too generous. Now… as I said earlier, I am really really sorry for everything that happened."
The goddess squats by his cage. "You should be," she says, in her rusty voice. "You desecrated my temple. With your… your filth. So until you have restored that which you profaned, you must stay."
Oh. She's senile. She can't tell him apart from the long-dead men who sacked the temple originally.
"I didn't mean to, divine one," Amigere pleads.
"How could you not know!" she snaps, slapping the cage. The bars rattle. "It is a temple! But you were impure! Your carnal acts profaned it!"
… oh. Well, that's just stupid. You are clearly dealing with someone with completely unreasonable standards. You weren't even in the temple! You were two floors above it, and it's only because the floor had fallen through that it could even be said to possibly maybe from a certain point of view be the same room.
Anyway, she's clearly not operating in good faith. How can you be said to 'profane' something that's flooded and doesn't even have a ceiling! The sanctimonious greed of petty spirits knows no limits!
Well. You're just going to have to get Amigere back. And maybe also teach this minor goddess that she messed with the wrong princess of the Earth.
"Aaah."
You're breathing heavily after this spell. It's not exactly easy, dragging the soul of even a minor house-spirit into a jade prison. Still, you managed it with no real struggles, with no real issues despite how long you've gone without using that magic. You stretch, cracking your knuckles with a satisfying pop.
A little bit of you is secretly very, very relieved. You were scared that the injuries you took might have damaged your control. Ignorant fools don't understand how sorcery isn't reading books of ancient lore and saying pretty words. It's something you put your all into; mind, body and soul. Your will is the river; your thoughts that which shapes its flow and your inked flesh the vessel you fill with power.
Well, at least it is the way you do it. There are those smug bastards in the Realm who look down on you as a provincial cousin and studied at the all-so-fancy Heptagram. They would probably say you're an inferior self-taught example of a sorceress who consorts with dark powers to make up for her lack of teaching.
Well, what do they know?! Them and their ancient pacts with elementals and great tomes of demonology and all the wealth of the Scarlet Empire to call upon! How dare they sneer at you! You don't need their elementals or their demons or their divine oaths! You had - and will have again - your darling princes!
"Can I eat her?" Sei asks hopefully.
Of course, you have Sei. Who is neither darling nor a prince. "No," you say.
"Well, that's petty. I brought you back your necklace."
You jab an angry finger at him. "You stole it in the first place!"
"Details, details. That doesn't make up for your lack of gratitude."
"It entirely does that!" You rub your arms. You're drying off, but it's starting to get chilly standing around. "No, I have plans for that soul. Such a weak and feeble creature, but with its own kind of power. Power I can draw upon. Power that will…"
He flicks his tails around, back safe up on the broken pillar far away from any water. "You're going to create a golem," he says, looking around the ruined hall.
"You can't just say that!" you snap.
"Who are you trying to impress exactly? You just stole the soul of the one person around here who might have been surprised by such revelations."
"I…" You consider your situation. "Shut up, Sei. Obviously I have a full explanation, but I have a toy boy to save. I really can't stand around…"
"Naked."
"... humouring you," you finish despite his quite rude interruption. "If you want to be useful, go find if there's anything I can wear in this place."
He curls up and goes to sleep, or at least pretends to. He doesn't want to be useful. It's all too typical.
Looking around, you try to find something you can draw on a surface with. Ah yes, the half-burned charcoals at the bottom of that overturned brass brazier should do the job. It's not ideal, but it'll do. Finding a clear-ish and dry bit of wall, you draw out an inner circle, then a larger outer one, and connect the two by looping petals. Then come the surrounding glyphs in Old Realm; Body, Mind, Shadow, Life, and Name.
Stepping back, you dust off your hands - which only manages to smear blackness over your left hand as well - and nod in approval of a job well done.
"Don't be so smug," Sei observes, which in your opinion is like water telling someone to not be so wet. "Drawing isn't hard."
"It's an important step," you say, centering your mind. Breathe. Breathe deep. Breath is the life; breath is power. In the Immaculate faith you were raised in, the moment when your heritage makes itself known is the Second Breath, and for how much you have cast off of your childhood faith, that isn't wrong.
Inhale, and feel the pulse of life. Inhale and feel the world around you stir. The power of the oak lies in the acorn. Smell wet leafmould, pine needles, and the sweet scent of the flowers that grow only in mountain valleys. That power lies within you. The hair in the back of your neck stands on end; not out of fear, but because it feels the urge to lay down roots and sprout. It obeys. Your whole body tingles as your hair starts to grow.
The power does not lie in your knowledge, in your undoubted wisdom, in the things you have learned. It lies in your blood.
You bite your lip, wincing at the sharp pain, and taste copper. Before it closes, you smear the blood over your lips. Leaning in, you press your lips against the centre of the flower, leaving a crimson mark on the wall.
"Rise!" you shout in Old Realm, throwing your arms wide open. Your head tilts back. A soft green corona embraces you like a lover, lifting you up onto your tiptoes. The stone floor under you creaks as flowers force their way through the cracks in the rock. "Golem, servant, slave! Take the life of my enemy and rise! Take this power and serve your master!
"My blood gives you life! Your will is mine! Your desires are mine! You live for me!"
The necklace floats free of your body, hovering in front of you. You can hear the spectral screams, as purple irises petals scatter themselves around. The house-spirit appears, a wavering spectral thing, before collapsing into a ball of violet light that is rapidly subsumed by your green.
You take a step forwards, upon a cushion of soft flowers that had not been here before. And another, until you can touch your charcoal circle. Gritting your teeth, you force the glowing light forwards, fighting the spirit's thirsty desire for life, until it touches where you kissed the wall.
Your bloody mark of your lips flares a leafy green, and oozes into the charcoal.
Five steps back, and with a clap, you bring your hands together. "Servant, I name you! Rise!" you command.
"You know, I've told you before that you don't need to do the whole kiss-of-blood thing," Sei observes. "You just insist on doing it because you like the idea that your kiss can arouse even the elements, let alone men."
He should shut up.
The wall explodes outwards. Stone crumbles down, and something climbs out through the plaster dust. Coughing, you wave your hand in front of your face to try to clear the air.
Your creation stands there mutely, awaiting your instruction. The soul of the house-spirit has been consumed, fed into your work. Nothing remains of what she was, apart from the blank-expressioned face on the beautiful statue you bought to life. It is a fine one, made from marble like the walls, with burned-in black marks that look like the ritual circle you used to make it. Its hair is moss; its eyes are fire and water.
The edges of the humanoid shaped hole in the wall are glowing a dull red. The heat presses up against your skin.
It says nothing. Of course it doesn't. You never gave these golems a voice. They're not made for talking. They're made for obeying you. And isn't that something wonderful. You have something around you that doesn't talk back, unlike Sei, and actually obeys you, unlike Sei.
Now. Time to find Amigere.
"Follow me," you order the golem, as you delicately start to pick your way across the broken floor of the ruined chamber. "Sei, you can ride on it. Tell me if you hear anything."
Taking the lead, you sneak up the dusty debris-laden marble stairs, which are cold underfoot and have a rotting carpet that feels even worse than the slippery stone. The golem's heavy footsteps follow you. The house spirit said that the goddess Yanbu lived all the way back, in the room that used to be the daimyo's. Luxury, that's the key; you need to just follow the trail back to the biggest, most ornate dwelling place in this divine palace. Now, where would that be?
Something catches your eye. One of the doors here has been opened recently. You can tell because the area in front of it has been swept clean by the door opening outwards. When you try the handle, it's locked - but it reinforces the idea that it's been used, because it's been polished smooth by many openings.
"Well. Golem, there appears to be a door in my way. Open it."
Its fist smashes through the handle and the door behind it, scattering splinters of wood down onto the stone.
You smile beatifically.
It's so nice to have servants again.
You tread the hallowed halls of the gods, and look at them in disdain. Because they're honestly a shitpile, pardon your Airtongue. They've been plundered. Or possibly simply stripped when the occupants left. You don't think the same people invaded these halls as sacked the place outside, because there's no sign of a fire-blooded melting the walls.
Still, you can see the remnants of where they once dwelt as you pick through the fallen halls. A bathhouse where the baths are only weeds and the fountains are clogged. A ballroom where none can dance, for the floor has collapsed. Luxurious apartments stripped bare where only hints of former glories remain.
In your search, you do find old musty linens tucked at the back of an armoire. There is a hint of the smell of roses to them, and a few drooping irises still blossom from the cloth. Once this was a goddess's undergarments, long forgotten. A holy relic to some. You just put them on with a small sigh of relief. You're cold, and since you're planning to murder an uppity spirit, excessive bouncing is inconvenient. They fit nearly perfectly, suggesting that whoever these once belonged to, they must have been an exceptionally beautiful woman with a gorgeous figure.
"Shoes, shoes…" no, her feet were tiny things, you already think less of her beauty, "... ah ha!" You pull out a crumpled silk bedsheet, yellowed with age and covered with intricate black geometric embroidery, and fashion it into a makeshift shawl.
"You look awful," Sei informs you, cattily.
You don't care. Having something that'll let you distract with movements of cloth and cover where your hands are will make Peacock School easier to practice. Anyway, he's just jealous that you make a bedsheet and graciously donated underwear look so damn good. It's not the first time you've had to fight for your life in such garb.
Some wives are just so lacking in understanding.
The first sign of life you find in these endless hallways is smell. Among all the rot and gentle decay, smoke is a sharp note that saws at the nose.
"Wait," you order the golem, and it immediately stops moving. Its footsteps are too loud and you don't want to stumble into trouble.
"I'm coming with you," Sei says softly, leaping down from the shoulder of the golem.
"Only if you keep quiet."
The two of you follow the growing smell. The flicker of firelight reflected through an inhumanly tall door tells you you've found your goal. Inching your way around the frame, you peek into the room.
Your first observation is that this was built for a giant. Everything is scaled for someone twice your height. The giant door that stands before you is suddenly put in a new context. The steps that lead into the room are inconveniently large and you're not looking forward to climbing down them. The centre room is sizable, and there are more oversized doors that lead into other parts of the quarters. The current occupant has piled up masonry around the oversized table and dragged in new furniture, but it still looks almost like a child is occupying the dwelling of an adult.
And not only in terms of size. Also in terms of cleanliness and care for the locale.
In the ruins of this once-sacred place, this is the last place that still clings onto a trace of its former glory. The ceiling might be blackened by soot, but the braziers still burn and take the edge off the chill. The draperies might be faded and tattered, but they've avoided the rot and the mould that afflicts the rest of the structure. And the treasures that might once have decorated this holy palace have been accumulated here, stacked into great mounds. There is armour here; chainmail and lances and war masks. There are tokens and lead prayer-slabs with engraved curses and polished stones. A mark of the wealth of the gods.
At least, that's what you'd say if it wasn't mostly all trash.
Because that's what it is. The chainmail is more rust than iron; the war masks look plagued with how their peeling paint comes off in strips; the coins are almost all copper. The kind of thing that people would toss into a pool to thank its spirits. There is no jade and precious little silver.
If you were here to plunder the house of the gods for your own gain, you would be sorely disappointed. You're still pretty upset. Peeved. Peeved is a good word. You were hoping there was treasure in here, but if this is the best they can offer, then you won't be able to take your justly deserved recompense for these petty spirits stealing your birdman.
Speaking of Amigere, you catch sight of him. He's in a cage on the floor that might truly have once been meant for a bird. It's finely ornamented and filigreed, and barely large enough for him. Oh, that poor boy! You're going to have to get him out of there! He'll be so grateful to you!
But you're not going to do that yet. It wouldn't be a good idea. Not until you can find out where the goddess is.
"Goodness me," Sei says softly. "Her room is even more of a mess than yours."
He's just winding you up. You don't have a room because vile horrible people chased you out of your fortress. As you fled, you saw flames licking from your quarters. They probably burned your library out of the fear of small-minded fools for learning.
You wait, patiently, and ignore his jibes. It's not too long before movement catches your eye. Within a divine sanctum, spirits cannot hide from the eyes of the world. She's not just a silhouette anymore as she enters from one of darkened doors, glowing faintly.
Her head is that of a lioness; a mangy, starving lioness. Her skin is too taught over her bones, and it draws back her lips so she's always baring her teeth. Patches of bare skin mottle her face. She's tall, yes, but there's nothing of her. She stands head and shoulders above you, but she's thinner than any human could be and still survive. Just skin, bones, and a few corded muscles. No fat to spare. Her orange robe is tattered and faded; you think it was once a rich red. Only her intricately engraved brass cuffs are still bright and shining.
You saw a leopard on the way down South, living on the edge of a sandport. Someone had said that you could tell that that leopard was an old sick male, driven from his territory and living off the creatures attracted to the sandport's rubbish. He'd been gnawing on a vulture on top of a rock.
She reminds you of that leopard; something old and sick and hungry, living in the places no one else wants.
The goddess Yanbu has a bowl in both hands, an oversized thing with what looks like torn up moss in it. Something green and probably not what humans are meant to eat, at least. She puts it in front of Amigere's cage.
"Eat up," she growls - and it is a growl, from a hoarse voice that you don't think speaks often. "You need to keep up your strength."
Amigere looks in the bowl nervously. "What is this?" he asks.
"Plants."
You wince. Amigere's expression is hard to read, but he takes out a handful and tries a pinch. "Wonderful, your divine majesty," he says. "You are too generous. Now… as I said earlier, I am really really sorry for everything that happened."
The goddess squats by his cage. "You should be," she says, in her rusty voice. "You desecrated my temple. With your… your filth. So until you have restored that which you profaned, you must stay."
Oh. She's senile. She can't tell him apart from the long-dead men who sacked the temple originally.
"I didn't mean to, divine one," Amigere pleads.
"How could you not know!" she snaps, slapping the cage. The bars rattle. "It is a temple! But you were impure! Your carnal acts profaned it!"
… oh. Well, that's just stupid. You are clearly dealing with someone with completely unreasonable standards. You weren't even in the temple! You were two floors above it, and it's only because the floor had fallen through that it could even be said to possibly maybe from a certain point of view be the same room.
Anyway, she's clearly not operating in good faith. How can you be said to 'profane' something that's flooded and doesn't even have a ceiling! The sanctimonious greed of petty spirits knows no limits!
Well. You're just going to have to get Amigere back. And maybe also teach this minor goddess that she messed with the wrong princess of the Earth.
Article: Brave And Heroic Tactics
Rena is going to bravely and heroically try to save her toyboy. Not because of any guilt for getting him into this trouble, of course. Because no one steals her man.
Pick One
[ ] Expendable Minions: Well, you can send in your golem as a distraction to engage her. It'll let you see how she fights - and if she's distracted enough, you can recover Amigere while she's fighting the animated statue. If she's more powerful than you expect, you can probably run away without leaving him behind.
[ ] Sneak Attack: You think her body is close enough to human that a good blow to one of her nerve clusters from surprise will give you a solid advantage. When she's weakened, you can tag-team her with your perfectly obedient servant. The golem, that is. Not Sei.
[ ] Divine Kombat: This goddess was one a temple guardian. This means, you think, she will likely have a strict sense of honour. You're much more flexible there, but if you challenge her openly for the return of Amigere, you suspect she'll accept. And if she goes to fight you in another room, Sei and the golem can save your birdman.
[ ] Write-in Plan: Write in a general approach/tactical mode
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BungieONI
Seven gremlins in a trench coat
- Location
- Lickwidget
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Divine Kombat: This goddess was one a temple guardian. This means, you think, she will likely have a strict sense of honour. You're much more flexible there, but if you challenge her openly for the return of Amigere, you suspect she'll accept. And if she goes to fight you in another room, Sei and the golem can save your birdman.
This feels like the Shang Tsung option, so I am toooootally going for it.
This feels like the Shang Tsung option, so I am toooootally going for it.