You are a demigod. The myth you write is up to you.
World Heir - a Demigod's Quest
- Thread starter mintyfreshbless
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- Original Fantasy
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World Heir
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Character Creation 1
mintyfreshbless
zip zap krakow
- Pronouns
- Any
Define the divine.
A task for fools, isn't it? What is the divine? It exists beyond an individual, a singular perspective, one little pair of eyes. It exists beyond the churning of nature, efficient in its' imprecision, effective in its' messiness, the jungles, the trees, the animals, the deserts, the seas. It exists beyond even logic, beyond the abstract, of mathematics and science and the known unknowables and unknown knowables.
It exists beyond these things, yet encircles them it does not. Not every mortal worships the gods. Not every wind whispers praises to the divine. Not every platonic solid reveals some mechanism of omnipotence. Just as the core of each thing cannot be spoken, one cannot define the divine - one may as well ask what is consciousness, life's purpose, or what one does not know.
A fool's errand. One you must partake in. Such is the curse of one touched by the gods.
Enough of theology. Look at what's in front of you. See, hear, smell, feel. Rely on the senses. Breathe in. Out.
In.
Out.
You are not a god. You are not one of the divine. You never have been, and shall never be. But neither are you mortal - you will never find peace and comfort with mortals, you will not be a part of their kind. You will not match the song they sing - as you are beyond them, so they are beyond you.
Neither Heaven nor Earth has a place for you. Neither immortal or mortal. You are the liminal. Made of two halves, not wholly either, yet whole nonetheless.
A demigod. Touched by the divine. A bat, not beast nor bird.
But you do inherit something. The abstract made concrete, the big compressed small. The divine defined.
Something so impossible to grasp, yet readily bouncing into your palms. A power, a legacy, a myth carved into history whether you wish it or not. Beyond genius, beyond prodigy. Your fate resting solely in your hands, a rare trait - with the potential to be a gift or a tragedy. Both, perhaps. But not neither.
Perhaps that's all you have. Or all you will ever have.
Maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves. Think back, back to the time right before your conception.
What did you see? What did you feel? When you were created, what was it like?
[ ] Green like chlorophyll
[ ] Red and warm
[ ] Blue-ish but comforting
[ ] Light - Too much of it
[ ] Nothing at all
[ ] Everything and everything and everything
[ ] Green again but a different shade
And after you were conceived, what was that like?
[ ] Dark like a snuffed candle
[ ] Bright like a rising sun
[ ] Natural
A task for fools, isn't it? What is the divine? It exists beyond an individual, a singular perspective, one little pair of eyes. It exists beyond the churning of nature, efficient in its' imprecision, effective in its' messiness, the jungles, the trees, the animals, the deserts, the seas. It exists beyond even logic, beyond the abstract, of mathematics and science and the known unknowables and unknown knowables.
It exists beyond these things, yet encircles them it does not. Not every mortal worships the gods. Not every wind whispers praises to the divine. Not every platonic solid reveals some mechanism of omnipotence. Just as the core of each thing cannot be spoken, one cannot define the divine - one may as well ask what is consciousness, life's purpose, or what one does not know.
A fool's errand. One you must partake in. Such is the curse of one touched by the gods.
Enough of theology. Look at what's in front of you. See, hear, smell, feel. Rely on the senses. Breathe in. Out.
In.
Out.
You are not a god. You are not one of the divine. You never have been, and shall never be. But neither are you mortal - you will never find peace and comfort with mortals, you will not be a part of their kind. You will not match the song they sing - as you are beyond them, so they are beyond you.
Neither Heaven nor Earth has a place for you. Neither immortal or mortal. You are the liminal. Made of two halves, not wholly either, yet whole nonetheless.
A demigod. Touched by the divine. A bat, not beast nor bird.
But you do inherit something. The abstract made concrete, the big compressed small. The divine defined.
Something so impossible to grasp, yet readily bouncing into your palms. A power, a legacy, a myth carved into history whether you wish it or not. Beyond genius, beyond prodigy. Your fate resting solely in your hands, a rare trait - with the potential to be a gift or a tragedy. Both, perhaps. But not neither.
Perhaps that's all you have. Or all you will ever have.
Maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves. Think back, back to the time right before your conception.
What did you see? What did you feel? When you were created, what was it like?
[ ] Green like chlorophyll
[ ] Red and warm
[ ] Blue-ish but comforting
[ ] Light - Too much of it
[ ] Nothing at all
[ ] Everything and everything and everything
[ ] Green again but a different shade
And after you were conceived, what was that like?
[ ] Dark like a snuffed candle
[ ] Bright like a rising sun
[ ] Natural
Terran Imperium
[French]
- Location
- Southern France
[X] Light - Too much of it
[X] Bright like a rising sun
This seems like an interesting combination.
[X] Bright like a rising sun
This seems like an interesting combination.
Character Creation 2
mintyfreshbless
zip zap krakow
- Pronouns
- Any
[X] Light - Too much of it
[X] Dark like a snuffed candle
The sun.
Your father is the sun.
You can feel a light inside of you as if it was merely another obvious and natural part of your body. Spreading without care, warming and urging on, without remorse or regret. Your light. Your inheritance - a birthright taking the form of the sky's largest and brightest; daytime's only fire, the only fire it needs.
When the sun shines, it shines for you. When diurnal flowers bloom, they bloom for you.
When-ever the desert claims a desiccated, baked corpse, and spreads its' dunes to reveal a blackened reminder of its' hostility, it's a gift for you, and only for you.
Or perhaps for those of the same breed as you, also. But who knows if your kin in this manner even exists? Something not to question, for now, for now. Regardless. You've had the soul of the sun inside you for as long as you can remember, and no matter how you chose to express it as you grew, one thing could hardly be changed.
You may never truly escape the light. For your father is the sun, and he will never go away. Such is the divine.
As for your mother... a less important person, when speaking cosmically. But perhaps even more important in the defining of you, for it is from her you first emerge into the world, several cycles after your conception, several cycles of warm darkness, illuminated not by your minuscule sun-soul.
You should've been unable to steal any knowledge of the outside during this time. You remain less than an infant during this period, still too weak even to be taken care of and coddled, outside the womb. And yet, you dream regardless. Shadowy images. Things you couldn't possibly understand, with no context, no prior understanding to base any possible conclusion off of. But you have your instincts. Your most basic needs. A mortal's most basic needs. A few of which, some primal part of your half-created brain notes, have been met in these smoky dreams.
[ ] Food.
[ ] Safety.
[ ] Warmth.
Pick two.
And of your mother... why was she the sun's lover? Perhaps for many years, perhaps only for the span of time it took to conceive you - either way, she was chosen. You may never know why. But you might have some doubts.
[ ] The sun kissed the maiden, for beauty seeks beauty.
[ ] The sun loves those who endure it the best.
[ ] The sun smiles on those who match its' light.
[ ] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
After all, that was a trait you inherited from her.
((Side note: I'm well aware of how flowery my prose is right now. I SWEAR it will be less so after chargen!))
[X] Dark like a snuffed candle
The sun.
Your father is the sun.
You can feel a light inside of you as if it was merely another obvious and natural part of your body. Spreading without care, warming and urging on, without remorse or regret. Your light. Your inheritance - a birthright taking the form of the sky's largest and brightest; daytime's only fire, the only fire it needs.
When the sun shines, it shines for you. When diurnal flowers bloom, they bloom for you.
When-ever the desert claims a desiccated, baked corpse, and spreads its' dunes to reveal a blackened reminder of its' hostility, it's a gift for you, and only for you.
Or perhaps for those of the same breed as you, also. But who knows if your kin in this manner even exists? Something not to question, for now, for now. Regardless. You've had the soul of the sun inside you for as long as you can remember, and no matter how you chose to express it as you grew, one thing could hardly be changed.
You may never truly escape the light. For your father is the sun, and he will never go away. Such is the divine.
As for your mother... a less important person, when speaking cosmically. But perhaps even more important in the defining of you, for it is from her you first emerge into the world, several cycles after your conception, several cycles of warm darkness, illuminated not by your minuscule sun-soul.
You should've been unable to steal any knowledge of the outside during this time. You remain less than an infant during this period, still too weak even to be taken care of and coddled, outside the womb. And yet, you dream regardless. Shadowy images. Things you couldn't possibly understand, with no context, no prior understanding to base any possible conclusion off of. But you have your instincts. Your most basic needs. A mortal's most basic needs. A few of which, some primal part of your half-created brain notes, have been met in these smoky dreams.
[ ] Food.
[ ] Safety.
[ ] Warmth.
Pick two.
And of your mother... why was she the sun's lover? Perhaps for many years, perhaps only for the span of time it took to conceive you - either way, she was chosen. You may never know why. But you might have some doubts.
[ ] The sun kissed the maiden, for beauty seeks beauty.
[ ] The sun loves those who endure it the best.
[ ] The sun smiles on those who match its' light.
[ ] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
After all, that was a trait you inherited from her.
((Side note: I'm well aware of how flowery my prose is right now. I SWEAR it will be less so after chargen!))
- Location
- United States of America
[X] Food.
[X] Warmth.
[X] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
[X] Warmth.
[X] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
[x] Warmth.
[x] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.[x] Safety.
[x] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
[x] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.[x] Safety.
[x] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
- Location
- Earth
[X] Safety.
[X] Warmth.
[X] The sun smiles on those who match its' light.
[X] Warmth.
[X] The sun smiles on those who match its' light.
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Food.
[X] Warmth.
[X] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
[X] Warmth.
[X] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
Given what we are, I think we could do without the additional Warmth, rather than the other choices.
[X] Food.
[X] Safety.
As for our trait, I don't see the appeal for the vanity choice in this quest, "endure" has a negative connotation, and we've already had a darkness-related pick (and the theme is one that comes out on top way too often already), so...
[X] The sun smiles on those who match its' light.
[X] Food.
[X] Safety.
As for our trait, I don't see the appeal for the vanity choice in this quest, "endure" has a negative connotation, and we've already had a darkness-related pick (and the theme is one that comes out on top way too often already), so...
[X] The sun smiles on those who match its' light.
Dawn 1
mintyfreshbless
zip zap krakow
- Pronouns
- Any
((Note: I began writing before the previous two posts were posted. Apologies! I'm doing this quest quite sporadically, but I'll try to let everyone know when I've tallied a vote in the future.))
[X] Food.
[X] Warmth.
Food - hard to posit that anything is more integral to life than food. You are sustained, and it is more than enough to satisfy your wants. Warmth, too, you have in abundance - appropriate, for a child of the sun. All in all, your time in the womb is marked by Sharing in your mother's joys. You are fed by her love, and bask in her mirth. Your mother is a happy woman - though, not one without her own troubles, which she shares with you just as eagerly as she gives you her happiness.
The one need that eludes your larval grasp is safety. Rough movements, sudden lurches and leaps, a sort of claustrophobic pulsating that the first few times makes you uncomfortable in a way that can't be easily explained. Your mother spares you none of this - and you don't even know why. A demanding and harsh lifestyle, treacherous circumstances, or simple recklessness? Something else? You dream.
You dream of a lady of the earth. A woman as tough and hardy as sun-baked clay, with skin much the same. Dirt catches between her toes, leaves and bird's feathers make roost in her curling hair. Scars new and old, long and wide, small and worryingly large dot every inch, every nook and every cranny of her form. She wields a spear and a blade, though her sharpest feature is her sure-faced grin - and her warmest, as well.
For the entire time within her womb, you long to meet your mother. For the entire time, you wonder if she knows you exist. If she'd like to have you. All you know is nourishment, love, and the occasional dance of a warrior.
[You know of the simple joys in life - food, merrymaking, affection. You will start life with these things as your most paramount desires. You know not of safety, and of home - the hearth will never be your greatest companion, if you befriend it at all.]
[X] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
Of course, soon enough you dream of other things as well. As your body develops, so does your mind - and as you come to understand the world outside the womb, the more you come to terms with the treachery that comes to periodically saffect you inside of it.
What you see more than frightens you. You see the unscrupulous. You see the deceitful. You see a hundred hundred terrible things that you could never fully comprehend, and without a voice, without a way to cry, you merely look on in fear and anguish at the visions in your dreams. A part of you, intrinsic, clings to this feeling, this revulsion for the world outside, but slowly you come to understand. Enough snapshots create a vividly clear picture - a picture of what lies in wait for you in the true world.
A terrible place. One where every step might spring some hidden trap. One where every breath might herald a swift and sudden death. One where every stone, every patch of dirt, every tuft of grass might hide a dagger dipped with venom, plague, famine, murder.
Is this the world you inherit? Is this the birthright of a child of the sun? A lethal wasteland of a kingdom?
... No.
No, it is not.
It is not, because you do not inherit a thing in the first place. Not one thing you have can be taken for granted. Visions of the future. A vessel strong enough to tough it out within the sands of the outside. The power of the sun. A brain. Hands. Feet. Fingers.
Already, you've seen too many without these things - and too many with - to ever take them for granted again. How lowly are you! How mundane are you! Not even these gifts of yours will guarantee your survival in the outside. You are just like any other babe; a lucky one, a gifted one, but not enough to warrant any sense of superiority. No matter how far you may climb.
To carve your own life, to gain joys of your own, you must be like your mother. Strong, hardy, of the earth. You must walk with vitality, strike with all the might you can muster. Live your life to the fullest, even under the shadow of death. This is how the world is, for you - how the world will be for everyone you meet.
You understand. Another gift - the lesson of the desert. Fight, or die. Yet a lesson tempered by love, too. As you realize you are about to be born, as sudden as a dust devil, you do not quake any more when you think of the outside. After all, you need not to prove yourself to anyone but the sands. And you're determined to be an ace student in the art of survival, just like your human parent.
[You are born in the Desert of Ini, a world fit only for the tenacious. You begin life even further distanced from safety and the hearth, and though you will never truly need these things any-more you will find them alien and unnatural all the same, and will need much convincing to even begin to think otherwise. You also distance yourself from your divine heritage - your powers will still come as naturally, but you will be reluctant to rely on them, and will instead humbly train more mundane skills without issue. You find yourself thinking of yourself primarily as a human with powers, rather than identifying with the divine. You understand humans and the communities they form easier, and the whims of the heavens with more difficulty.]
How appropriate. The child of the sun is born in a cave, and the moment they arrive has the same effect upon its' interior as dawn has upon the night sky.
The outside world is not cold, but it is far more rough than is comfortable. You find despite the resolution you gained far, far beyond your years, you still crave the touch of your parent. You still have the body of just a babe after all - yet as you look upon your mother, your eyes gleam with recognition and intelligence. She's just as you visioned - well, not entirely. She hasn't that glow and vitality to her as when you were in the womb. Her breathing is ragged, she lies against the cave wall in exhaustion, her head thrown back. But then she cranes towards you, her dirty curls gently swaying with the motion, and when her eyes lock to yours her face splits into the sunniest smile you've ever seen her make - though you suppose that's not saying much.
She picks up your brightly glowing form and presses you against her bosom. For a moment, the harshness of the world recedes. You are with your mother, and for this moment, at the very least, you can put your trust in her. You do so gladly.
Her mouth moves in a strange pattern, and an unfamiliar sensation tickles your brain, but not unpleasantly so. A moment passes before you realize the sensation is sound. The desert is quiet, and the first thing you ever hear that is not the warm ambiance of a womb or a cave is, you learn later, your mother naming you.
[ ] Kalakos. "Strong", a confiding in the path she hopes you will one day take.
[ ] Arani. Ara for "sun", ni for "child". A term usually meant metaphorically, but which for you is all too appropriate.
[ ] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[ ] Something... else. Perhaps the warrior woman who is your mother is more creative than you might expect.
All is well. But only for a moment. The dawn comes, and as your father stretches his morning-arms to paint the sky's canopy pink and purple, so does your life truly begin. Your mother gently places you in a sort of cradle, with wood as your bedframe and tanned leather as your mattress. She was not a fool, and prepared for your birth with a bundle of roasted meats (for herself) and a leather bag of water (also for herself. She was to feed you in the ways mothers feed their babes) to rest while she regained her strength. You understand very little of this, but what you do understand that she is very tired and does not seem to have anyone to help her.
But in your visions, you saw her drinking and eating with others - fellows in her tribe? Where are they now, while she is at her most vulnerable?
This... irritates you. You're not going to just stand here helplessly while your mother must rest. You should just be an infant... it should be foolish to think of yourself as equal to your mother at her prime. But it would be foolish to discredit your gifts entirely as well. Hmm...! You've never had to make a decision before... and what a tough one to start with!
[ ] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
[ ] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [ ] She hunts with strength. So you shall too. You will crush a goat's skull with naught but your palms!
- [ ] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
- [ ] Meat's too dangerous. If you're going to be hunter-gathering, best to do the latter more than the former. Now... all you need to do is find edible plants. In the desert.
[ ] You are heir to the light, are you not? Would a father turn a deaf ear to his child, and to his once-lover? Implore the aid of the sun in this matter... Somehow. (You don't like this option.)
[ ] Phooey to your father. He abandoned your mother even before her tribe! If he does not help you, you will be the one to force his hand. Trick the sun into being your companion in the hunt.
[X] Food.
[X] Warmth.
Food - hard to posit that anything is more integral to life than food. You are sustained, and it is more than enough to satisfy your wants. Warmth, too, you have in abundance - appropriate, for a child of the sun. All in all, your time in the womb is marked by Sharing in your mother's joys. You are fed by her love, and bask in her mirth. Your mother is a happy woman - though, not one without her own troubles, which she shares with you just as eagerly as she gives you her happiness.
The one need that eludes your larval grasp is safety. Rough movements, sudden lurches and leaps, a sort of claustrophobic pulsating that the first few times makes you uncomfortable in a way that can't be easily explained. Your mother spares you none of this - and you don't even know why. A demanding and harsh lifestyle, treacherous circumstances, or simple recklessness? Something else? You dream.
You dream of a lady of the earth. A woman as tough and hardy as sun-baked clay, with skin much the same. Dirt catches between her toes, leaves and bird's feathers make roost in her curling hair. Scars new and old, long and wide, small and worryingly large dot every inch, every nook and every cranny of her form. She wields a spear and a blade, though her sharpest feature is her sure-faced grin - and her warmest, as well.
For the entire time within her womb, you long to meet your mother. For the entire time, you wonder if she knows you exist. If she'd like to have you. All you know is nourishment, love, and the occasional dance of a warrior.
[You know of the simple joys in life - food, merrymaking, affection. You will start life with these things as your most paramount desires. You know not of safety, and of home - the hearth will never be your greatest companion, if you befriend it at all.]
[X] The sun shines brighter for the ones living in darkness.
Of course, soon enough you dream of other things as well. As your body develops, so does your mind - and as you come to understand the world outside the womb, the more you come to terms with the treachery that comes to periodically saffect you inside of it.
What you see more than frightens you. You see the unscrupulous. You see the deceitful. You see a hundred hundred terrible things that you could never fully comprehend, and without a voice, without a way to cry, you merely look on in fear and anguish at the visions in your dreams. A part of you, intrinsic, clings to this feeling, this revulsion for the world outside, but slowly you come to understand. Enough snapshots create a vividly clear picture - a picture of what lies in wait for you in the true world.
A terrible place. One where every step might spring some hidden trap. One where every breath might herald a swift and sudden death. One where every stone, every patch of dirt, every tuft of grass might hide a dagger dipped with venom, plague, famine, murder.
Is this the world you inherit? Is this the birthright of a child of the sun? A lethal wasteland of a kingdom?
... No.
No, it is not.
It is not, because you do not inherit a thing in the first place. Not one thing you have can be taken for granted. Visions of the future. A vessel strong enough to tough it out within the sands of the outside. The power of the sun. A brain. Hands. Feet. Fingers.
Already, you've seen too many without these things - and too many with - to ever take them for granted again. How lowly are you! How mundane are you! Not even these gifts of yours will guarantee your survival in the outside. You are just like any other babe; a lucky one, a gifted one, but not enough to warrant any sense of superiority. No matter how far you may climb.
To carve your own life, to gain joys of your own, you must be like your mother. Strong, hardy, of the earth. You must walk with vitality, strike with all the might you can muster. Live your life to the fullest, even under the shadow of death. This is how the world is, for you - how the world will be for everyone you meet.
You understand. Another gift - the lesson of the desert. Fight, or die. Yet a lesson tempered by love, too. As you realize you are about to be born, as sudden as a dust devil, you do not quake any more when you think of the outside. After all, you need not to prove yourself to anyone but the sands. And you're determined to be an ace student in the art of survival, just like your human parent.
[You are born in the Desert of Ini, a world fit only for the tenacious. You begin life even further distanced from safety and the hearth, and though you will never truly need these things any-more you will find them alien and unnatural all the same, and will need much convincing to even begin to think otherwise. You also distance yourself from your divine heritage - your powers will still come as naturally, but you will be reluctant to rely on them, and will instead humbly train more mundane skills without issue. You find yourself thinking of yourself primarily as a human with powers, rather than identifying with the divine. You understand humans and the communities they form easier, and the whims of the heavens with more difficulty.]
How appropriate. The child of the sun is born in a cave, and the moment they arrive has the same effect upon its' interior as dawn has upon the night sky.
The outside world is not cold, but it is far more rough than is comfortable. You find despite the resolution you gained far, far beyond your years, you still crave the touch of your parent. You still have the body of just a babe after all - yet as you look upon your mother, your eyes gleam with recognition and intelligence. She's just as you visioned - well, not entirely. She hasn't that glow and vitality to her as when you were in the womb. Her breathing is ragged, she lies against the cave wall in exhaustion, her head thrown back. But then she cranes towards you, her dirty curls gently swaying with the motion, and when her eyes lock to yours her face splits into the sunniest smile you've ever seen her make - though you suppose that's not saying much.
She picks up your brightly glowing form and presses you against her bosom. For a moment, the harshness of the world recedes. You are with your mother, and for this moment, at the very least, you can put your trust in her. You do so gladly.
Her mouth moves in a strange pattern, and an unfamiliar sensation tickles your brain, but not unpleasantly so. A moment passes before you realize the sensation is sound. The desert is quiet, and the first thing you ever hear that is not the warm ambiance of a womb or a cave is, you learn later, your mother naming you.
[ ] Kalakos. "Strong", a confiding in the path she hopes you will one day take.
[ ] Arani. Ara for "sun", ni for "child". A term usually meant metaphorically, but which for you is all too appropriate.
[ ] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[ ] Something... else. Perhaps the warrior woman who is your mother is more creative than you might expect.
All is well. But only for a moment. The dawn comes, and as your father stretches his morning-arms to paint the sky's canopy pink and purple, so does your life truly begin. Your mother gently places you in a sort of cradle, with wood as your bedframe and tanned leather as your mattress. She was not a fool, and prepared for your birth with a bundle of roasted meats (for herself) and a leather bag of water (also for herself. She was to feed you in the ways mothers feed their babes) to rest while she regained her strength. You understand very little of this, but what you do understand that she is very tired and does not seem to have anyone to help her.
But in your visions, you saw her drinking and eating with others - fellows in her tribe? Where are they now, while she is at her most vulnerable?
This... irritates you. You're not going to just stand here helplessly while your mother must rest. You should just be an infant... it should be foolish to think of yourself as equal to your mother at her prime. But it would be foolish to discredit your gifts entirely as well. Hmm...! You've never had to make a decision before... and what a tough one to start with!
[ ] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
[ ] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [ ] She hunts with strength. So you shall too. You will crush a goat's skull with naught but your palms!
- [ ] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
- [ ] Meat's too dangerous. If you're going to be hunter-gathering, best to do the latter more than the former. Now... all you need to do is find edible plants. In the desert.
[ ] You are heir to the light, are you not? Would a father turn a deaf ear to his child, and to his once-lover? Implore the aid of the sun in this matter... Somehow. (You don't like this option.)
[ ] Phooey to your father. He abandoned your mother even before her tribe! If he does not help you, you will be the one to force his hand. Trick the sun into being your companion in the hunt.
- Location
- Earth
[X] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
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- Location
- Bed
[X] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Meat's too dangerous. If you're going to be hunter-gathering, best to do the latter more than the former. Now... all you need to do is find edible plants. In the desert.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Meat's too dangerous. If you're going to be hunter-gathering, best to do the latter more than the former. Now... all you need to do is find edible plants. In the desert.
[X] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
Okibruez
(Verified Mid-Boss)
- Location
- Dreams
[X] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
[X] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [X] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
[X] Something... else. Perhaps the warrior woman who is your mother is more creative than you might expect.
We are lamenting the fact no one's here with our mother (jumping to sort-of-cynical conclusions in the process, I might add), so I don't see why we should leave her even more alone while we (try to) get some food, which she already has, by the way, because "She was not a fool, and prepared for your birth with a bundle of roasted meats". So:
[X] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
We are lamenting the fact no one's here with our mother (jumping to sort-of-cynical conclusions in the process, I might add), so I don't see why we should leave her even more alone while we (try to) get some food, which she already has, by the way, because "She was not a fool, and prepared for your birth with a bundle of roasted meats". So:
[X] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[X] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
[X] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
[x] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[x] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [x] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
[x] The possibility that in her time of weakness your mother has been abandoned by her tribe fills you with a hot indignance. How dare they! If they cannot fend for her, you will do so yourself! Find some food to augment your mother's own rations.
- [x] Guile can be it's own strength. Fancy that - the child of the sun, a trickster.
DumplingJr
(Verified Eldritch Being)
- Location
- 4th dimension in 17th plane in the 4th DImension
[X] Mih'al. One day, when you will ask your mother about the meaning of this word, she confesses that it has none. But it was the name of her father, and she loved him as she hoped you might love her.
[X] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.
[X] Stay with your mother. You are no hunter, not yet - and you shan't be a fool either. And besides, whatever meager strength you do have would be best suited to defending your vulnerable parent.