#dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

"This I can handle. I am as old as civilization, remember. I have faced impossible odds and survived. A journey on foot will be hard, but I will not perish."

Nothing can kill me, believe me, I've tried.

That was what the ancient was tempted to say, but he dared not reveal so much as a hint of weakness to his gracious host. His host didn't need to know of mothers and children lost to the sands of time and thousands of fruitless attempts to join them. "I would very much like to see this 'temple', is it? I must know if there are more like you on this world. More demigods."

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[looking-for-lost-stars]

"Please don’t ask me about my parents" to Boe, (@dissatisfieddov)

Please Don’t Starters:

@dissatisfieddov

Boe immediately felt guilty, they should know better, they don't want to talk about their own parents... Or particularly their father. They look down at their feet "I-I-I'm sorry."

[looking-for-lost-stars]

A presence suddenly interrupts the relative calm of the warp around Ash, something completely alien starts to seep his psychic presence as the blonde horned man explored this new facinating place. ( @dissatisfieddov )

@dissatisfieddov

Ash jumped and then looked confused. "What the fuck?" Ash was immediately blocking off his own psychic presence. "Who the fuck are you?"

[looking-for-lost-stars]

"Yes that's where we were going first." Ash gives a smile. "Then I was going to show you how to use the shower, so you could be clean before you put on clean clothing." Ash began to guide Runar through the corridors.

There was a small knock at Runar's door. Ash had come to collect him, to help explain and set some ground rules.

Runar tried to remember how to open the door, the strange button was it? He thought, happy to see that he was right as the door slid open.

"Ah, feeling well I presume. You drank a lot last night my generous host." Runar spoke with his silky smooth tone, keeping a close observant eye on Ash as he backed away to let the smaller man enter.

[divinituscaptivus]

"Tell me about your sons guest from the beyond the stars!"

@dissatisfieddov

"You wish to know of my offspring, Runar, of the sad tale of the downfall of Man. Listen, my host, and listen well, for it is a long and tragic tale whose consequences still linger throughout the stars." And so the man once called Emperor began his story. He naturally started where his children did, with a Faustian deal on a world of ash and bone. He told Runar of Molech, of the bargain he made in order to form his children's souls. He laid his regrets bare, for that bargain would cost him everything. Then he told Runar of the weeks he spent beneath the Palace handcrafting what would have been their homes and finally forming their tiny bodies in his artificial wombs. Then came that day, that awful day, when the Gods exacted their vengeance. Then came they day he lost them. But he never gave up hope, never stopped searching. One by one he reunited with them all. He never got to be the father he wanted to be to them; he never got to raise them or watch them grow. Except for one. His special one, his most treasured son. That son was the pinnacle, his pride made manifest. That son betrayed him. That son carved a bloody path through the stars seeking his father's power. Kusig had no choice.

He did not simply kill him. To kill him would have created a monster beyond imagining within the Realm of Souls. The Emperor destroyed him, burning him from every reality. And now he lived with his failures, with half a family that hated him and another half that died or disappeared. "Is your curiosity satisfied?"

@dissatisfieddov

[looking-for-lost-stars]

Runar prowled around the smaller dragonborn, curiously inspecting Boe. “So, you are dragonborn too?” The larger Dragonborn asked, “A little Brenton like you? Curious. Tell me little dragon, do you have the same drives for power as I do?”  

(@dissatisfieddov)

@dissatisfieddov

Boe shrank under the large man's inspection. They managed to not let the whimper they felt forming escape though. And there are curiosity could not outweigh the fear they felt just at this moment. They shook their head, "N-n-not really? I-I-I don't th-th-think so."

[looking-for-lost-stars]

🔐 Runar to Boe

Send me 🔐 for a tip on how to make my muse trust yours

@dissatisfieddov

Food and time.

[looking-for-lost-stars]

do you survive the narrative?

Farenn:

yes, but you’re not the same.

take it how you want, you were in the belly of the beast and tore your way out. you've been reborn.

Tagged by: stolen

Tagging: @dissatisfieddov @chapter-master-darius @in-flagrantx

[looking-for-lost-stars]

Character Flaws

Boe:

absent-minded | abusive | addict | adrenaline junkie | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly loyal | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | cheater | clingy | clumsy | cocky | codependent | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | fixated | flaky | frail | fraudulent | foul mouthed | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | grudgeholding | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive  | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | possessive | pushover | reckless | reclusive | rermorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-destructive | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | suspicious | tactless | temperamental | timid | thief | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic

Tagged by: stolen from @leondxs

Tagging: @dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

The giant leaned in, hanging on every word his host had for him.

The soul of a dragon?

Well that, in an odd sort of way, made sense. Kusig Alad had only gazed upon one dragon, but that Dragon's soul and this strange man's were remarkably similar. And the beast in the sky; it was certainly beyond human, a soulflame more akin to a Primarch's than a mortal man's. To think, he'd spent ages planning for and designing his children only for nature to shape through millions of years of evolution and warpcraft something so remarkably similar all by itself. It was astounding, really. "Tell me, how does the soul of a dragon end up in the body of a man, assuming, that is, that you have no more questions for me." Nearly fifty thousand years of life, and the man who was once known as the Emperor of Mankind still had so much to learn.

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

Kusig Alad had no idea who this 'Whitestrake' was, but judging by the way Runar talked about them, they were some kind of xenos-slaying folk hero to the people of this world. If anything, Kusig should endeavor to be more like them. But he simply couldn't afford to, not unless he wanted to be a prisoner and not a houseguest.

So he'd have to bite his tongue, he'd have to tolerate the xenos presence on this meager world, for now. When he rallied his strength and gathered the proper resources, there would be no more 'elves' on this miserable planet. His warriors would see to that, provided he could ever reconnect with the wider Imperium. The ancient declined the invitation to the fur-lined seat, fearful that it might break under his immensity. He was a giant here, after all. He was a giant even when last he walked among the living. His presence was immense and terrifying as it towered over lesser men. Runar was not a lesser man, of that much the former Emperor was certain. He was a variable Kusig would have to control for, or even control. A fiery spirit like his would make for a fine weapon to be wielded against the enemies of the Imperium. Before him laid a bowl of stew with no utensils to eat with with save for a heel of bread. It was no worse than how he had eaten a day prior; a whole cheese wheel, rind and all. This smelled far nicer, an herbaceous stew loaded with garlic, onions, and meat soaked in a wine-gravy. Ksuig made a mental note to inquire about the recipe later. Should he make it off this planet, he would want to replicate this stew. "You have questions for me, no?"

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

The ancient awoke from a dreamless stupor when the light outside of Runar's cave grew dim. Torchlight was the sole light source that glimmered throughout the halls of the ancient tomb. When Kusig awoke, he could taste blood on his lips, his own blood. He had not exerted psychic power in a flesh form on that level since, since....

Since before he'd died.

He was a shadow of himself now, a pale visage of what once was. If he wanted to claim the powers of a minor god, the power he used to hold, he was going to have to push himself, and far harder than he just had.

He didn't care how many time he'd find himself in a hole in the wall tasting his own blood. He would have his power back.

He would rule this trifling world, this xenos haven and bring it under his Imperium's watchful eye. This planet played host to an abundance of resources; water, timber, manpower.

All of it belonged to him.

With his strange host by his side, he would conquer this backwater rock like he'd conquered hundreds and thousands of others. He may not have an army, or a weapon, but that would come in due time. Scratching scabby dried blood off his face, the former Emperor rose from his nook and returned to watch passed for a kitchen in this cave. The smell of roast venison drew near.

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

"Come!" Bade Kusig.

" Come closer."

As Runar approached, the giant laid a massive hand atop Runar's head, and just like that, the world stopped.

The cave fell away as though it were merely the backdrop on a great stage of black listless nothing. The two were alone, with nothing but a restless void between them. The ancient began to speak, but his mouth never once moved.

+See the world I come from+

And explosion of color and noise filled the air, and before Runar knew what had happened, he was flying like a dragon above a sea of gold and silver towers. The air here was sour, wrong in a way his primitive mind couldn't possibly understand. In place of a blue sky was a sallow yellow sunset, one in which things he could only describe as flying boats hovered between that towers taller than anything he'd ever seen.

+A great cataclysm shook my home.+

War erupted within the great city, a war fought with horrifying weapons Runar could never have dreamed of. There were swords and axes, but also rolling houses with tubes that spat fire, sticks that belched blue flames, and great metal giants that roared with crackling energy. There were millions of daemons, and men nearly as large as Kusig himself bedecked in armor that resembled some twisted version of a knight.

+And left me in pieces+

The scene changed. Now they stood atop a great pyramid of machinery that looked like it could put Dwemer constructs to shame. At its tip sat a desiccated corpse fused to a throne of silver and gold. The corpse was bedecked in fine silks and precious metals, it's ribes a mess of wiring and its eye replaced by some strange device. The only things it seemed to have in common with Kusig were its immense size and raven hair.

+And now,+

They returned to the city, now thick with clouds of smog and every tower in a state of decay. From the distance came a great flash of light.

+It is gone. +

A wall of flame consumed the city, one that was miles high. It melted the towers like candles in the wind, blowing everything away until all that remained was molten obsidian.

+All of it is gone!+

Now they stood above a field of stars, of planets going dark one by one, of eldritch nightmares consuming world after world after world. Humankind fought the dying of the light valiantly, but even their efforts were not enough to keep the cosmos from tearing themselves to pieces. A great gaping wound opened up in the universe itself, threatening to swallow all it saw. And then,

And then they returned to the cave.

Kusig shakily removed his hand from Runar's head, blood pouring from both of his nostrils.

" Y-you must have questio-" Before he could finish his sentence, his golden eyes rolled back and he collapsed in a heap.

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

"Come!" The ancient demanded, his voice laced with psychic potential.

There was something he'd been meaning to show his host. It was the truth; the truth of his species, of his origin, the noble birth of Humanity and the rise and fall of its greatest empire. It was Kusig's truth, his life laid bare before his host, every moment from his birth to his most recent death. It was why he was the way he was, the shell, the shadow of his former glory just as all he had commanded was.

All he had to do was lay his massive hand atop Runar's head and all would be revealed to him.

Could his mortal mind even handle it?

Perhaps, perhaps not.

A normal human may melt under such an immensity of information, but something in his gut told Kusig Alad that this man was not a normal human. He had an abnormal soul, a flame brighter than a mere mortal's. It was not the same flame as a Primarch's, or even an astartes', but it was an unusually bright flame. He was strong in the psychic arts as well, stronger than most others of his kind.

For now, he even eclipsed the Emperor himself, but time would see that error rectified.

"There is something you must see."

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov

[divinituscaptivus]

"There are ways of flying without wings, my host."

Oh how Kusig desperately wanted to show his host the full scope of his power, the godlike abilities that were at his disposal, but they remained frustratingly out of reach. And to fly, he didn't even need those abilities, just the proper machinery.

"But we must move quickly, I will show you this and so much more when we return to your home."

The trek back up the mountain took less time than it had going down. The two made haste up the mountain path, lest the city watch discover where his host was holed up.

"Wake up my dear guest!" Runar cried out from the kitchen, "Today is the day I take you to the neariest tailor! Windhelm is the cloest major city to us, ignoring any small settlement of course!" Runar called out to his guest, the smell of hot porridge drifting through the ruin from the kitchen.

(@dissatisfieddov)

The dreams of the Master of Mankind were not ordinary dreams. They were far more vivid than those a mortal could conjure. They were past, present, and even future all diffused into a cocktail of subconscious thought. Buried under a mound of sleeping furs, the giant shifted in slumber.

To any onlookers, that sleep would seem dreadfully uneasy.

The voice of his host roused the ancient in a cold sweat. He scanned his sizeable nook within the ancient tomb before gazing at his bronze hands in near-disbelief. There was a part of him that feared that this reality was a warp-born delusion, that he was still a writhing prisoner of the Throne back on Terra.

The man once called Emperor didn't know which scenario was worse; being here, burdened by the knowledge that Terra was no more, or being there, locked in endless torment of mind , body, and soul.

When the smell of food hit his nostrils, it roused a hunger in his belly. Physical sensation was enough to ground him, enough to draw him out of what passed for a bed.

Kusig Alad was here, on some feudal dirtball who-knows-where, and he was in sore need of some proper clothing.

@dissatisfieddov