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blueares · 3 years

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Ruination Rewrite: Shadow Isles

Shadow Isles Part I

The light of the Wayfinder fades and is almost instantly replaced by an oppressive gloom. Though you have witnessed many Harrowings by this point, they all pale in comparison to the sight before you: The Shadow Isles, birthplace of the Ruination.

“I hate this place already.”

“I don’t suppose we could try and recruit more Sentinels first?”

Lucian: “Keep your nerves about you, Rook. The undead here are worse than anything you’ve seen so far, and they can smell fear a mile away.”

Diana: “A land trapped in endless night, yet obscured from the Moon’s pale glow… One can scarcely imagine what manner of horrors might lurk here.”

Graves: “Pardon the interruption, but there are a heck of a lot of graves here… And I ain’t talkin’ about myself.”

Sure enough, a cursory glance of your surroundings reveals that the Wayfinder has brought you to a massive graveyard, with rows upon rows of headstones stretching out all around you. Upon closer inspection, you realize that a number of the graves even appear to be recent.

“Who dug all of these?”

“Whose graves are these?”

??? response 1: “That would be me.”

??? response 2: “Mostly travelers, like yourselves.”

The Sentinels wheel around to point their weapons at the source of the voice, only to find an old, hunched man with a shovel staring back at you, unfazed.

Vayne: “Hmph. So this the kind of ‘horror’ lurking on the Shadow Isles? Should be easy enough to handle.”

Shen: “Wait! This man… His soul is touched by the Mist, but he has not been turned by not. Not wholly.”

Yorick: “That’s right. I’m just a humble gravedigger. My name is Yorick Mori, last gravedigger of the Blessed Isles.”

Riven: “The Blessed Isles? Where’s that?”

Yorick: “Before this place became the Shadow Isles that you all know, it was a place of learning and prosperity: the Blessed Isles. When that mad king came, he unleashed the Ruination, corrupting every living thing in this place with undeath… Almost every living thing.”

Suddenly, a wicked figure appears behind Yorick, speaking out in a voice that somehow calms and terrifies you at the same time.

???: “Join us, Yorick. Cast aside those measly droplets and be one with us.”

Jayce: “Look out!”

Yorick: “Don’t fret. The Maiden has whispered in my ear for a long time, but these ‘measly droplets,’ the Waters of Life, keep me sane.”

You stare at the Maiden uneasily, though the more you do, the more strangely familiar she seems.

Lucian: “Look, this is all fascinating, but we don’t have time to stand around and talk! We’re here for that Ruined Creep, to bring him down once and for all! If you know where he is, old man, you’d better speak up.”

Yorick: “You want to challenge him with these measly numbers? I can see you carry Relicstone, but that alone will hardly be enough.”

Akshan: “Do not count us out yet, old man! Akshan is here, and that makes up for at least a few missing soldiers.”

Yorick examines your group briefly, as though sizing you up. He strokes his beard in thought, then turns his gaze to a large tower in the distance.

Yorick: “…It is a fool’s errand, but perhaps this is the only chance I’ll get.”

Olaf: “What’s he on about now?”

Lucian: “Enough. If you’re not gonna help us, old man, then-”

Yorick: “You’re not the only one who wishes to bring an end to the king. Since the Ruination began, I’ve been amassing corpses here, using what little influence I have to keep them from rising in his name. You say you want to storm the king’s throne, but to do that…”

Yorick raises his spade and slams it into the ground. All around you, the graves burst open and grotesque creatures break free from the dirt.

Yorick: “You will need an army of your own!”

At Yorick’s command, the living corpses all seemed to stand at attention, awaiting his orders. You guess that they number somewhere in the hundreds, but you can’t be sure.

“So we’re going to fight the army of the undead… With our own army of the undead?”

“Lucian, what do the rules say about this? Can corpse monsters be Sentinels? What about old men with creepy ghost ladies on their backs?”

Lucian: “…Frankly, at this point, all that matters is findin’ that bastard and gettin’ Senna back. Oh, and Gwen, of course.”

Yorick: “Then the time is at hand! On your command, warriors of the light, we march!”

Lucian: “Alright then. Sentinels! Corpses! Let’s move!”

Shadow Isles Part II

With the Sentinels and Yorick’s ghouls at your side, you storm the gates of Helia, only to be greeted by Viego’s twisted forces. The ruins of the city quickly become a battlefield filled with screams of the undead.

Lucian: “Sentinels, stick together! Remember your training!”

Though clearly not as experienced as Senna, Lucian still does his best to take command of the situation while fending off the undead that get too close.

Lucian: “Olaf, Jayce, you two clear us a path! Graves, you and I will cover them! Akshan, Vayne, Rengar, you three scout ahead! The rest of you, stick with Rookie and try to keep him safe!”

The Sentinels spring into action at Lucian’s command, clearing their own respective paths through the battlefield. You linger behind with Riven, Shen and Diana serving as your protectors, cutting down the undead who dare to get too close.

Riven: “Don’t worry, Rookie, we’ve got you covered!”

In that moment, an inhuman roar cries out from somewhere above you. You look up to the sound of wings beating and your heart sinks at the sight of a familiar wyvern.

“That’s Shyvana!”

“How did she escape the dragonguard!?”

Shyvana soars across the battlefield and lets loose a stream of harrowed flame, scorching the entire battlefield with reckless abandon. As the flames draws near, Shen focused and conjures his spirit blade to form a protective barrier around you and the other Sentinels. Shyvana’s fire passes over you harmlessly, though you can still feel the raw hear even through the barrier.

Shen: “Is everyone unharmed?”

“I’m good, thanks!”

“If Shyvana is here, then…”

As if on cue, another figure descends from the sky, crashing down onto the battlefield like a meteor. Your heart sinks further as Diana speaks the name that’s on your mind.

Diana: “Pantheon… So Atreus has lost control once again. I… Look out!”

Diana shoves you behind her and wraps herself in a barrier of light just as a massive swirlseed slams into her. Dream dust scatters around Diana and you feel yourself stumble from breathing it in.

Riven: “Rookie! Stay awake, alright?”

You struggle to remain conscious as Lillia’s dream dust starts to take hold, but just as your eyelids are about to close, Riven delivers a sharp slap across your face. In an instant, you feel yourself snap to alertness.

“I’m awake!”

“Ow! Thanks, but ow!”

Riven: “Glad to see that worked.”

Your relief is short-lived as your eyes catch sight of another massive figure orbiting the battlefield: The Dead Pool, held aloft by clouds of Black Mist. At the ship’s helm stands Gangplank, though you recognize three other figures beside him.

“That’s Draven!”

“That’s Tryndamere!”

“That’s Viktor!”

Draven and Tryndamere both leap from the ship’s prow, dropping to the battlefield without care. Viktor, meanwhile, seems to direct a number of drones powered by Black Mist to follow suit. You soon realize that Yorick’s girls are diminishing in number, while your Sentinel allies are steadily pushed back.

Lucian: “Damn it! Everyone regroup! We have to-”

Whatever Lucian was about to say was cut off by the sound of explosions. The Dead Pool’s cannons let loose a relentless volley upon the battlefield, scattering the Sentinels in all directions. One shot lands especially close to you, slamming you into a nearby building.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring as you try to regain your footing. You feel a large hand suddenly wrapping around your neck and hoisting you up. You recognize the face of the man holding you, but his eyes now glow with an unearthly light.

Fetu: “Hmph. I can’t imagine why the Wayfinder would have chosen the likes of you.”

“Fetu?”

“You’re the Sentinel from Buhru…”

Fetu: “So you remember me? Then you remember that you left me to die. Me and my comrades. We held out for as long as we could, but we were no match for the Black Mist. No one is.”

Suddenly, something sharp pierces your stomach. You look down to see one of Fetu’s blades lodged deep in your gut. Pain fills your body as you cough up blood.

Fetu: “And you, you will share our fate, young Sentinel.”

You fall to the ground as your life begins to fade. Tendrils of Black Mist creep around your body, sweeping over you until they engulf you completely. Your vision fades and darkness consumes you as you take your final breath…

Shadow Isles Part III

You linger silently in the darkness. You feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing. Your thoughts and memories are scattered. Who are you? What are you? These are the answers your mind seeks, but is unable to grasp.

???: “…me?”

???: “Can you hear me?”

You hear a voice calling out to you. It feels familiar, yet you cannot discern why.

???: “Can you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Why are you?”

A glimmer of light emerges from the darkness, growing brighter in your line of sight. The light takes on the vague likeness of person, but you can’t discern the details.

???: “I’ve been with you all along. I am your guide, but I am also the cause of your anguish.”

The figure moves closer. You can vaguely discern that the voice belongs to a woman, but her face remains obscured. You think you feel fingers running against your cheek.

???: “This all began with my untimely death, which set my husband on this twisted path. He was a good man, once, but the Black Mist brings out the worst in one’s soul. Pain. Regret. Anger. That’s all my husband is now. I want to bring him back, as well as all those corrupted by his influence.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Does that mean you’re…?”

???: “I’m not who I once was. I am only a fragment of her, hidden away with Relic you carry. It was I who chose you, because I sensed you had a good heart. The Wayfinder was a tool crafted to help bring the world together in its time of need, and I offered what little power I had to that end. Now, I offer that power to you, young Sentinel. Though it means revealing myself to my wayward love, I am prepared to take that risk. I… Am prepared to place my faith in you.”

Suddenly, the darkness around you starts to fade. Your thoughts become less scattered. Feeling returns to your limbs.

???: “Our time is nearing an end. I can offer you my strength, but victory will depend on your own. You are not a warrior like your allies. Yours is the power to touch the hearts of those around you and draw out the best in them. Go, young Sentinel, and become a beacon in this dark time…”

The figure fades away and her voice falls silent. Slowly but surely, you climb to your feet, your memories slowly returning.

Akshan: “Ah, good! You are awake!”

“What happened?”

“Where is everyone?”

Akshan response 1: “Well, you were slain, but I have restored you to life! Do you still doubt the Absolver’s power?”

Akshan response 2: “While you were dying, everyone else has been fighting their hardest. Alas, I fear may we require a hasty retreat, which is why-”

Just then, Akshan’s gaze moves to the Wayfinder at your side. You look down to see that a segment in the base of the Relic has opened up. Hallowed Mist pours from the Wayfinder, and you recall your unusual encounter with the figure in your dream.

“Akshan! I know what we have to do!”

“Akshan! I need you to carry me!”

Akshan: “Oh? I am not quite certain what is happening, but I like the look that is in your eye! Very-well, hold on tightly to me, and try not to fall!”

Akshan grapples you up to the roof of a nearby building and sets you down. From this vantage point, you can see most of the battlefield around you. As you gather your bearings however, Shyvana sudden swoops down and lands before you, nearly shattering the roof.

Shyvana: “Burn all in dragonfire!”

As she prepares to engulf you in flame, you raise the Wayfinder and focus. Tendrils of Hallowed Mist pour forth and wrap around the half-dragon, stopping Shyvana in her tracks.

“Is that what your friends would want?”

“This isn’t you, Shyvana!”

Shyava: “Silence! I… I am…”

“You’re not a monster! You’re a soldier! Jerik said you’re the best he’s ever seen! Is this how a member of the Dragonguard should act!?”

“You’re not a monster! You’re the friend and protector of Demacia’s king! Didn’t you swear to defend him!?”

Shyvana: “Grrr…. RRRRAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

Primal fire engulfs Shyvana and her dragon form vanishes. Before you stands a woman with purple scales and crimson armor. Her hands and eyes burn with flames imbued with Hallowed Mist.

Shyvana: “I will never forget my oath! This Ruined King thinks he can tame a dragon? I’ll show him what happens to the enemies of Demacia!”

Shyvana transforms again, kneeling her head down to you.

Shyvana: “Climb on my back, and hold tight!”

Akshan: “Aha! Wonderfully done, Rookie!”

You do as Shyvana tells you and climb onto her back. The half-dragon carries you into the air and over the battlefield as you cling for dear life. As you ascend, your eyes scan the battlefield to pick out those who have fallen under Viego’s influence.

Shadow Isles Part IV

*From here, the player may choose which Ruined champ to go for in which order.

>Pick Tryndamere

Shyvana descends toward the Barbarian King, surrounding him in a ring of Hallowed Dragonfire. Tryndamere looks up at you and cries out in fury, but you respond by angling your Wayfinder at him. Hallowed Mist shoots forth, striking Tryndamere in the chest.

“Tryndamere, calm down! Is this how a king should behave?”

“Are you a man or an animal!? Get ahold of yourself, Tryndamere!”

Tryndamere: “Rrrgh… Grah!”

“You’re supposed to be the king of the Avarosa! Why are you bowing down to a guy like Viego!?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a might warrior! How can you let a guy like Viego tell you what to do!?”

Tryndamere: “I… I… I’LL NEVER YIELD!!!!!”

The Black Mist scatters from Tryndamere as he lets out a cry of defiance. In its place, Hallow Mist wraps around his form, imbuing his blade with cleansing power.

Tryndamere: “I fear no man or monster! COME AT ME!”

Tryndamere charges back into the fray, cutting through flames and undead alike. Though rage still consumes him, you notice that his movements are more focused now, his rage directed toward his adversaries in the Black Mist.

Shyvana carries you back into the air to seek your next target.

>Pick Draven

You spot Draven standing atop the remnants of an old monument, looking rather bored with the battle around him. Only as you approach does he look up, his attention drawn by the sound of beating wings.

Draven: “Oh, here we go! This this should be good!”

Draven winds up to hurl one of his axes, but you beat him to the draw. Tendrils of Hallowed Mist shoot from your Wayfinder and cling to Draven’s body.

Draven: “Hey, what gives!?”

“Draven, I’ve always wanted to meet you, but not like this. What a let-down.”

“I never imagined the Glorious Executioner would turn into a bit-player for some undead king.”

Draven: “What’d you say?”

“Come on, you’re supposed to be the star of the show! Why are you playing second-fiddle to Viego?”

“Draven what would your fans think if they saw you like this? Are you really gonna let them down by borrowing Viego’s power?”

Draven: “Hey! Draven IS the life of the party! Just you watch, kid!”

The Black Mist around Draven vanishes as the Hallowed Mist takes its place. He turns and chucks both axes, bouncing them off a pair of flying wraiths. Then, with practiced ease, he catches both axes and laughs.

Draven: “Ha! How’d you like that? Don’t get too excited, though! I’m just warming up!”

You and Shyvana watch as Draven leaps into the fray, but neither of you stick around to watch the show. Instead, you quickly ascend and begin seeking your next target.

>Pick Lillia

You spot a lot figure hiding amidst the ruins and direct Shyvana to descend on them. Lillia cries out in surprise as the half-dragon crashes down behind her.

Lillia: “Eep!”

She turns around to try and attack with her branch, but tendrils of Hallowed Mist engulf her before she has the chance.

“Come on, Lillia, you’re too cute to be one of Viego’s flunkies! Be brave! Fight back!”

“Lillia, aren’t you supposed to be a guardian of dreams? How can you be siding with Viego?”

Lillia: “W-What? But… Viego’s dreams are… So beautiful…”

“Viego doesn’t dream, Lillia! Not anymore! The man you’re seeing died a long time ago!”

“Viego’s dreams may be pretty, but his reality is a nightmare! He’ll ruin dreams for everyone, forever!”

Lillia: “T-That’s awful! I… Eep!”

Lillia lets out a startled gasp as the scatters from her form, then calms down as Hallowed Mist takes its place.

Lillia: “Oh, what’s this? I… I see an even lovelier dream. Not of the past, but of the future: a bright future, where nobody has to be afraid anymore. I… I understand. I’ll help spread this dream! Maybe Mother Tree will like it, too!”

Lillia takes a deep breath and scampers off into the fray, doing her best to sooth the dreams of the wraiths. You and Shyvana ascend once more to search for those still under Viego’s control.

>Pick Pantheon

As you and Shyvana scan the crowd, a flaming spear soars through the air, grazing Shyvana’s scales. The halfdragon cries out and makes an uneasy land. You do the same as you lose your grip and fall to the ground. Just as you start regain your footing, though, you see a figure marching toward you, shield raised. You try to use the Wayfinder, but the Hallowed Mist glances off Pantheon’s shield.

The war god lunges at you, but you narrowly dodge to the side to avoid being impaled by the spear that’s magically returned to his hand. Before Pantheon can try again, however, Shyvana lunges, engaging the war god with tooth and claw. As they struggle, you see your chance, and try again. This time, the Hallowed Mist takes hold.

“Atreus! I know you’re in there! You have to fight it!”

“Some god you are, Pantheon! I like your human half way better!”

Pantheon: “…Ngh! S-Silence…”

Pantheon struggles to break free, but Shyvana aids in restraining him.

“You’re not a god or a slave! You’re a warrior!”

“Your time is over, war god! No one’s gonna pray to you now, especially not like this.”

Atreus: “My name… IS SOLDIER!”

Two voices cry out at once: Atreus in triumph, Pantheon in despair. The Black Mist is replaced by Celestial power once again.

Atreus: “By my spear, they will know war!”

Atreus moves in the blink of an air, raising his spear to shield you from the axe of undead minotaur. In the same motion, he impales the beast, felling them in an instant.

Atreus: “Go! Rally our comrades! This battle is not yet lost!”

You and Shyvana both nod in acknowledgement before taking to the skies again, searching for those who remain under Viego’s influence.

>Pick Viktor

You spot Viktor amidst a crowd of possessed drones, which seem to swarm around him like a protective barrier. The drones become hostile as they notice you, but Shyvana effortlessly scatters them with her fire. You spot Viktor kneeling in the flames, staring up at you through his metal mask.

Viktor: “Why? Why you deny progress? Why do you deny salvation?”

In response, you raised the Wayfinder and let Hallowed Mist wash over the Machine Herald, binding him in place.

“Viego’s not trying to save humanity, Viktor! He’s trying to destroy it!”

“You call this progress? Turning people into a bunch of mindless wraiths hungry for souls!?”

Viktor: “Ngh… Illogical… Your argument is…”

“Viego’s a man driven by emotion, not logic! Open your eyes, Viktor!”

“Viego doesn’t care about humanity! He just wants to make everyone suffer!”

Viktor: “I see… It seems my own judgement was flawed. I must correct this error. I must adapt…”

The Black Mist pours out of Viktor’s mechanical body, replaced instead by the gentle thrum of Hallowed Mist.

Viktor: “And improve!”

Viktor turns and destroys the remaining drones with his laser.

Viktor: “Core upgrade complete. Now operating at maximum efficiency. Yes… Embrace progress!”

You and Shyvana leave Viktor to his own devices, soaring back into the skies to search for more of Viego’s thralls.

>Pick Gangplank

You advance toward the Dead Pool, holding on tight as Shyvana narrowly evades the ships cannons. Once close enough, she lets out a stream of flame that engulfs the entire ship, sending it crashing toward the ground. You scan the wreckages and see a lone figure limping out: Gangplank.

Gangplank: “It’ll take more than that to sink me, boy!”

Gangplank fires a few shots with his gun, but the bullets glance harmlessly off of Shyvana’s scales. You return fire with tendrils of Hallowed Mist, holding pirate lord in place.

“I’m not trying to sink you, Captain! I’m trying to save you!”

“You’re already drowning, Gangplank! I’m here to pull you back up!”

Gangplank: “What nonsense! I’ve finally got the power to take back my city! I don’t need any help from the likes of you!”

“Viego won’t give you your city back, Gangplank! If he wins, there won’t be anything left of Bilgewater!”

“You really trust Viego that much? You’ve gotta know there’s only room for one king in the world he’s trying to make!”

Gangplank: “…I see now. So, that slimy wharfrat thinks he can double-cross me, does he? It’s about time he realized…”

Gangplank grabs hold of the Black Mist around him, discarding it like an old coat that’s outlived its usefulness. In its place, the Hallowed Mist seems to restore the Gangplanks torn and tattered clothes to something resembling their former glory.

Gangplank: “Dead men tell MY tale!”

He turns and fires a bullet into a crowd of wraiths emerging from the remnants of his ship.

Gangplank: “Go and rejoin your crew, boy! I’ll discipline mine, then find that Ruined King!”

You and Shyvana take to the skies again, once again searching for allies amidst the Black Mist.

Once you’ve freed everyone you can from Viego’s control, you scan the battlefield for your fellow Sentinels. It’s not long before you spot flashes of light in the darkness, and direct Shyvana to set you down at their source.

As you descend, you see your allies have all huddled together near the base of the tower, making one last desperate attempt to push through. Shyvana lets loose a stream of flame that scorches the wraiths around them, before touching down and allowing you to dismount.

Lucian: “Rookie!? That you?”

“Hey, boss.”

“Happy to see me?”

Vayne: “What happened to the dragon? And to the Wayfinder? That looks like… Hallowed Mist.”

Behind you, Shyvana reverts to her humanoid form and addresses the Sentinels.

“He’s freed me from Viego’s control, as well as the others under that monster’s sway. Go and do what you have to, Sentinels. I’ll hold these creatures back!”

Shyvana wraps herself in flame again as she charges back into the fray, burning away any undead that try to get her.

Lucian: “I’m still not sure what you did, Rook, but I guess now ain’t the time to question it.”

Yorick: “You’ve awakened the final piece of her soul… Then the time truly has come to put an end to this madness.”

You and the other Sentinels gather before the gates of Viego’s stronghold, steeling your nerves for one last push.

Lucian: “This is it, Sentinels! Let’s show this Ruined Creep what we’re made of!”

Shadow Isles Part V

With Yorick serving as your guide, you storm the ancient, dilapidated building that now serves as Viego’s castle. The gravedigger leads you through ancient hallways teeming with the Ruined King’s undead warriors, adorned in faded, rustic armor. Though more fearsome than the lowly wraiths you’re accustomed to, they fall quickly before the Sentinels’ onslaught of light, set to rest after centuries of servitude.

Finally, you push through one last door to emerge in what seems to be a makeshift throne room, the walls and ceiling broken away to reveal the lightless sky overhead. Across the room, a lone figure stands with his back toward you, the tip of his massive blade touching the ground.

Graves: “So that’s the Ruined King? Thought he’d be bigger.”

Jayce and Olaf: “Don’t let his size fool you!”

Viego: “Sentinels. How good of you to come. How kind of you to bring the final fetter.”

Viego turns to face you, and you get the sense that his power has somehow grown even more since your last encounter. A chill runs down your spine as you examine the room, seeing all the fetters from around Runeterra gathered neatly in a corner. They seem devoid now of life and light, nothing more than ordinary objects. Among them, to your horror, is a familiar-looking doll…

Lucian: “Enough stalling, creep! Where’s Senna?”

Viego: “Lucian… All who oppose me are hypocrites, and you may be the greatest of all. We share much in common, do we not?”

Lucian: “I’m nothin’ like you!”

Viego: “No? I know of your deeds, Purifier. You once scoured the world in pursuit of your lost love, just as I do. You place her safety above all else, even your own duties. If it meant saving her, you would damn this world without a hint of remorse.”

Riven: “What is he talking about?”

“Lucian, don’t listen to him!”

“Don’t let him get inside your head!”

Lucian: “You’re right, Rook! If this bastard won’t talk, we’ll just have to make him! Sentinels, open fire!”

On Lucian’s orders, the Sentinels charge Viego, the light of their relics illuminating the throne room. With a single swing of his blade, Viego unleashes a torrent of Black Mist that renders your attacks moot and forces you all back.

Viego: “This is the best resistance you can muster? Did you truly think yourselves a match for me, merely because you got past my armies?”

You clamber to your feet, only to find that Viego has vanished. You look around, only to find a hand wrapped firmly around your neck. Before you can even register what’s happening, the Wayfinder is snatched from your grasp and you find yourself on the floor once more. Viego reappears on his throne, examining the Wayfinder with amusement and contempt.

Viego: “To think that they would hide you away from me in such a trifling toy, my queen… But at last, the final fetter is truly in my grasp.

“Viego, stop! Isolde doesn’t want this!”

“Even if you bring her back, she’ll never love what you’ve become!”

Viego: “Silence! You know nothing, child! NOTHING! This cruel, twisted world took from me the only thing that ever mattered, the only thing that gave my life meaning! Never again! I will absorb every last piece of her soul. She will reside within me forever more, and we never be apart! No one will ever take her from me again!”

Diana: “You are mad! That… That is not love!”

Viego stands and tightens his grasp on the Wayfinder. You watch in horror as the light of Isolde’s soul fades, absorbed into the ceaseless darkness of Viego’s absent heart.

Viego: “It matters not what you think! I can feel her within me, granting me strength… She loves me, as I love her. Witness, Sentinels, the strength of our bond!”

You watch as the Black Mist pouring from Viego’s chest grows even more potent, wrapping around his body. A jet-black armor forms from the corruption, and a cape of pure darkness billows in the still air.

Viego: “You see? She and I are nearly one. Only one more piece remains, and then…”

Just then, a portal opens to the right of the throne. Vex emerges with her shadow in tow.

Vex: “It’s done. Oh, these guys are here?”

Viego: “Pay them no mind, Vex. They are no longer of any consequence.”

Vex: “Trust me, I’ve been trying my hardest to ignore them from the start. Anyway, that Sentinel chick’s nice and secure, just like you wanted.”

Lucian: “Senna…”

Viego: “Excellent. Then this is where we part, Sentinels. Do not fret. I will leave you with one final parting gift.”

With a snap of his fingers, Viego calls forth several wraiths from the sky above, which descend onto the throneroom in a screaming cloud. Viego and Vex quickly gather up the now lifeless fetters, preparing to make their escape through the portal.

Vayne: “Damn it! We have to go after him!”

Lucian: “I’ll go! The rest of you, cover me!”

With Relic light enhancing his movements, Lucian darts and dashes between the storm of souls, leaving the rest of you behind to deal with the wraiths as he makes for the portal. Amid the chaos, your eyes fall upon the now-lifeless Wayfinder, only to hear a familiar voice speak out to you from behind.

Yorick: “The king thinks that he’s won, but he’s overlooked something crucial.”

“What’s that?”

“What do you mean?”

Yorick: “Your piece of the queen was hidden from him, but there is another that he’s overlooked all this time. Take my cloak, child, and hurry.”

Yorick removes the shroud of darkness clinging to him and hands it to you. As you grasp it, you can hear countless voices whispering in your head as one: the voice of the Maiden.

Maiden: “Join us. Surrender to us. Be as one.”

Just then, Yorick opens his vile and sprinkles a single drop of water onto you. You feel the voices in your head growing fainter, but not completely silent.

Yorick: “Do not heed her, but keep her close. She’ll serve you well when the time comes. Now go.”

Yorick returns to the fray, summoning what few ghouls remain under his command to aid in the fight. You look to the portal and steel yourself before sprinting through the chaos, snatching up the Wayfinder as you make for the closing portal.

Riven: “Rookie! Where are you going!? Rookie!?”

You offer no response as you dive into the shadows once more, letting darkness engulf you once again.

#Ruination Rewrite

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tiredassmage · 3 years

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Character Page 𓆰 Brooke

A character page for what is, at its core, something of another au for my main, Astor, buttt... it’s basically bc one day I had a random bought of inspiration and followed through on “what if I came up with a deer-like race for XIV” and... then I spent like two hours making lore for them and listening to whitetail deer noises on YouTube. So! He’s different enough to warrant his own lil page! ^.^ I will try to cover enough of this theoretical lore that things make sense, but hopefully without going... ridiculously overboard and keeping you here for hours over a race of my own brainworms. xD

BASICS ---

Name: Brooke, technically like the water feature “brook,” but, somewhere along the line, someone thought it was spelled with an ‘e’ like the more common rendition of the name, and he did not have enough of an understanding of the written Eorzean Common Tongue to know the difference.

Age: It’s a little hazy, but approximately 28 summers by Shadowbringers

Nameday: 17th sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon

Race: Dryad

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Martial Status: Single(?)

OC Tags: ch: brooke

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ---

Hair: Long, falling down about his mid-shoulders when worn loosely and dark brown. Typically worn with at least one braid, and often pulled back in some sort of fashion. Occasionally braids feathers or flowers into it.

Eyes: A pale crystal blue, almost gray. Often wide, curious, and warm.

Height: 5 fulms, 10 ilms, not accounting for a full grown set of antlers.

Build: Lithe, lean, and long in the legs - all traits rather common among his race. As a fully mature adult, Brooke generally grows in a full antler set featuring an average of 4 points that typically form a generally crescent moon-like shape. The typical adult male Dryad will grow anywhere from 4-6 points, while a female will grow 2-4.

Distinguishing Marks: Much of Brooke is rather... distinguishing, given the rarity of his people to the rest of Eorzea. They are generally a reclusive people, living deep within the woods and mountains from the land, migrating occasionally with the season and food supply, but rarely actually leaving. Given such, it wasn’t until prior to the Calamity that Brooke ventured beyond the bounds of his wooded home deep in the Shroud at the behest of his herd that he came into contact with the outside world. Given the antlers and the fluffy ears and tail, most... didn’t exactly greet him with kindness. He was odd and unlike anyone else most had seen. The Calamity has pushed their survivors from their homes and more into the light, but they’re still a relatively unknown factor. Many regarded him initially with the same judgements and mistrust afforded the beast tribes.

Outside of the physical denotations of his race, the only other marks one might occasionally find that could be helpful are the paints he still tries to find some time to don in honor of his kin and ancestors. Life as an adventurer has taken him further and further from his roots, but no further from his respect for their traditions.

PERSONAL ---

Profession: Brooke initially left his herd, sent by their leader, to act as an emissary to the nation of Gridania in the days leading up to the Calamity. While the details of the time after Cartenau are yet fuzzy to him, he had not intended to abandon his post in the Calamity’s wake. In the world that remains, however, he is unable to ascertain whether any of his herd survived. By lucky chance, he has fallen in with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, lending his strength and mixed arcane knowledge to their fight for peace.

Main Job: Brooke and his people are something of an enigma by standard definitions of magical practice. They are gifted in a wide variety of arts, and their semi-nomadic nature has brought them into contact with various remnants of ages past. In Brooke’s case, the closest standard classification may be Red Magic, as he possesses an affinity with a wide variety of skills typically associated with both White and Black Magic, though, unlike the duelists of the Red, Brooke still prefers to focus his energies through a staff or scepter than a blade.

Hobbies: Gathering is more a standard survival skill of his people than a hobby, so he would hesitate to classify his botanical knowledge and pursuits as such. Instead, he would much prefer to count his reading as his favorite one - particularly into history and prevalent folklore and tales. In his role as emissary, he sought understanding between his people and those sharing the Twelveswood with them, even if they had been doing so unwittingly. Thus, it was only natural he needed to seek an understanding of their customs as well as shed some light on his own. He finds the telling of history and belief systems fascinating, marveling at the many differences and nuances to be found within them.

Languages: Though Brooke possesses the Echo, he still struggles with languages, at times. He has steadily grasped a more firm understanding of the Eorzean Common Tongue, but it would not be wrong to say his Echo granted him a better understanding of the language and intentions of creatures, beasts, and elements than any language of man.

Residence: At times, it is still difficult to feel settled among civilization, but his efforts and work with the Scions have afforded him the security of a small residence within the protection of Gridania. At least the more seasoned adventurers aren’t so prone to gawping at his unusual appearance.

Birthplace: His herd lived somewhere deep within the Twelveswood. After the destruction reigned down by Bahamut though, he has found more malms of it unfamiliar to him than ever, and he cannot even be certain they survived - much less that their home may have.

Religion: Dryads believe in something one might call spirts, more than any gods. They revere natural elements such as wind, water, and earth and pay a deep respect to the balance of these things. Taking more than one needs and reckless destruction are considered sacrilegious to them. They host celebrations for each season, each having a representative and associated elemental spirits of focus - the closest one might find to a pantheon of gods in their beliefs. This is something he has held fast to even in the face of their many adventures.

TRAITS ---

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

PERSONALITY ---

Curious, warm, and soft-spoken, Brooke has a quiet love for life that some might find a little naïve. He’s a deeply passionate individual that does not often find a reason to hide the way he feels. He believes strongly in such things as the beauty of a star-dappled sky or a color-changing sunset. He feels strongly about preserving the ways of his people, finding a nostalgic familiarity in them as he uncovers the world beyond the wood. It has been daunting, at times.

But curiosity has kept spurring him forward. Seeing marvels like airships and linkpearls up close are strange, sometimes terrifying, but incredible experiences.

He endeavors to remain honest to himself and true to his beliefs. He does not believe in turning others away over superficial differences. If one is in need, that should be enough. Where they are from or what creed they follow should not restrict them from aid. It might make him something of an idealist, but if it is foolish to believe in and want such things, then he would gladly be a fool. He tries his best to remain willing to learn, and finds joy in understanding and sharing. He’d gladly listen to someone tell stories for hours, if it would make them happy.

ABOUT --

Born and raised with his herd in the secluded depths of the Twelveswood, Brooke thought and new little of the world beyond the wooded reaches of their herd until he was well along to becoming a young adult. In the brewing chaos of looming calamity, their leader bid him go forth to their neighbors of the wood in Gridania in an attempt to reach an understanding and mutual aid. Such levels of destruction would doom them all, regardless, and she bid them not remain idle and wait for the coming darkness.

The troubling times would provide their own draws and setbacks to opening a dialogue with the Gridanians and their Seedseers, but, ultimately, Brooke would succeed in at least opening these discussions, revealing the Dryads’ presence within Eorzea with certainty and agreeing to aid in the developing struggles against the Garlean Empire.

What, exactly, followed is, as many others have described, something of a blur. The only certainty of the matter was that it left the young Dryad stranded alone in a wholly new and twisted realm that was all just... a bit funny. Familiar in ways... Entirely not in others.

He may just have ran afoul of a little cult. Y’know. Nothing major. Definitely not a voidsent interested in aether. Definitely not his. Or... perhaps he did. And perhaps he’s quite lucky he met an adventurer not keen on letting cultists lurk about in underground tombs or let unsuspecting strangers get turned into voidsent treats. Quite lucky, that! But... all’s well that ends well, right..?

With a little to be desired for a solid sense of direction and purpose, Brooke found himself once again woven into a greater tapestry of fate than he could have ever predicted. There were, thankfully, a few... passingly familiar faces along the way, it seemed, but still little in the way of ascertaining the fate of those he had left behind, grown up with.

But there was still their hope - hope for a better future, for a way forward, the dawn of another day they could enjoy and share with their loved ones. That had always been worth fighting for, so fight for it, he would.

#ffxiv ocs #dot talk #character page #character sheet #character profile #bc i'll never remember exactly how i tagged it #and i'll try all 3 of those inevitably #ch: brooke

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officialleehadan · 5 years

Text

Thunder Son

“I hope,” Tom said mildly but not without an edge in his voice, “that you are not suggesting I break an oath.”

The man across from him was a sight to see. Immensely tall, with a thick red beard and equally red hair braided with golden beads, his arms were corded with muscle, and he walked with a heavy stride that spoke of both strength and confidence.

At the sight of him, the blue runes on Tom’s palm heated almost to the point of pain, and then faded until they were almost invisible against his life-line.

The stylized Norse hammer at his throat told Tom who he was even before he offered his hand and his name.

Thor.

Tom was not pleased to see him. Cassandra’s family rarely spoke of their fellow deities, but what little they said left Tom in no doubt that the rest of the pantheon was as real as they were. Including this one. Their father’s former friend and ally who was prophesied to die in Jörmandgr’s coils.

Call him biased, but Tom hated him on sight.

“I would not presume,” Thor answered and nodded politely when Tom offered him a bottle of water, and a package of cookies. Hel told him all about Norse hospitality. Thor couldn’t cause trouble after accepting food and drink from his host. “An oath is sacred.”

“So you understand why I would never speak of one of my clients,” Tom told him flatly. He lived and breathed patient confidentiality. “Particularly with someone who has no legal claim on that information.”

“But you do have a student here by the name of Cassandra?” Thor leaned forward, his eyes intense and focused. “A girl with red hair, who is stronger than she should be and wears runes on her skin?”

As if the words had summoned her, Cassandra peered in his open door. Tom carefully didn’t look at her as she saw his company and went pale. Her reaction was more than enough to strengthen Tom’s already-steely resolve. There wasn’t much that frightened Cassandra, but this man did.

“I told you,” Tom told Thor flatly, “that I do not discuss my clients. That includes students at this school, clients I see outside this school, and anyone else who I chose to take on. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

Thor, who was not accustomed to being told ‘no’ by anyone, stared at him, completely flabbergasted.

“I said-“ he started, standing to loom over Tom. Tom, already annoyed and starting to get angry, stood to match him. He wasn’t as tall, or as muscled, but he was friends with the Queen of Death, and there wasn’t much that scared him anymore. If he died protecting her niece, Hel would look after him. “That I wish to know if there is a student her of that nature.”

“And I’m telling you to leave,” Tom told him, and leaned forward on his desk. This was his office, in his school. He was not going to be intimidated by anyone. “I swore to protect anyone who comes to me for help, and that includes keeping their information private.”

“You know not who-“

“Oh I know exactly who you are,” Tom cut him off and walked to the door. A subtle glance out the door showed him Cassandra ducking down under the secretary’s desk. When Mrs. Xavier caught his eye, Tom only smiled tightly, lips together. She nodded once and ignored the teenager under her desk. “So let me make this perfectly clear. If you try to intimidate me into giving up confidential information again, I’ll make a call or two myself, and we’ll see what happens. Now get off school property before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.”

Thor stared at him, at a loss. Tom pointed for the door meaningfully and wondered if the god would actually leave. He wasn’t about to reveal Cassandra, and was completely willing to fight a god for one of his students.

“I will discover the truth,” Thor said angerly, but moved for the door. Mrs. Xavier glared him towards the exit and he looked at her like she might bite him. He was right to worry. Mrs. Xavier’s temper was legendary. She didn’t know who he was and would happily tear into him. “The last of Loki’s Brood cannot hide forever.”

“I’m going to assume that’s a threat,” Tom told him, and walked towards the god meaningfully. Thor eyes him warily. “Mrs. Xavier, if you see this man on or near school property again, call the police and text me, please.”

“With pleasure,” she said with a very particular smile that suggested a significant taste for bloodshed, metaphorical though it might be. “Do have a nice day, sir. And don’t worry about the door. It always closes like that.”

Before Thor could say anything more, she kicked the door closed behind him with a thunderous bang.

Tom waited until Thor was out of sight before leaning on the desk and taking a slow breath, and then another.

“He’ll be back.”

Cassandra crawled out from under the desk with a nervous glare at the door. Tom patted her shoulder and held the door of his office for her. Mrs. Xavier caught his eye and nodded firmly. If Thor came back, he would have to go through her.

“If he comes back,” Tom said and offered her a water of her own, and the oranges she pretended not to adore. “I’ll call the cops and then your aunt. And then Jörmandgr.”

“You don’t play around.”

“Not where it concerns my students I don’t. Now, tell me why you punched Gordon at lunch.”

+++

The Last of Loki’s Brood:

Cassandra Brann is a Troubled Student. She is difficult, at best, defiant at worst, and has more secrets than a dozen spies.

And her family is worse.

BeLIEve Me

Family Gathered

Red-Gold and Silver-Grey

Prophesy Unheeded

Strength in the Dark

Queen’s Blessing

Bigger Fish

Life Once Lost (Subscriber Only!)

A Touch of Normal (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

Support me on Patreon

#Loki #Thor #Hel #Hela #Sleipnir #jormungand #fenris #loki's children #loki's brood #norse mythology #norse #myth #mythology #stories #story

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popculturespiritwow · 5 years

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THE WICKED + THE DIVINE #27: OB-SESSION

After many months, I’m back! Sorry for the long silence. Life=Crazy=Sorry.

I’m planning over the next couple weeks to post summaries of the rest of Imperial Phase I & II and then hopefully I’ll catch up soon after that. It’s hard to believe there’s only a few more issues left. (Nooooooooooo.)

I’ve actually held off reading the most recent couples issues until I’ve gotten back onto this, so if as we go you’re wondering how it is I don’t already know this or that, that is how. I think the last issue I read had all kinds of crazy reveals about Baal. Speaking of which...

BAALER (I Hate Myself for this Title But There You Are)

The big reveal of issue 27 is that Baal has some kind of magic super secret voodoo he can use to stop the Great Darkness. It builds on last issue, where we learned he’d not only been previously briefed on the GD by Ananke but seen his father murdered by it. It’s also the beginning of another shoe dropping, except we don’t really know what gets squished beneath it for another eight issues and two specials and like a year of reading time so it doesn’t seem like a shoe so much as a hmm, that’s mysterious, I’m sure it’s fine, shall we rave then?

I love the visual structure of this page, the way it uses repetition to express the passage of time and also distance to simultaneously demonstrate our own distance as readers from whatever horrible nightmare things are going on and to minimize those events. (It’s so small; whatever it is, it couldn’t be that bad, could it?)

(Baal, what have you done...)

I also like how Baal’s “reassurance” to Mini repeats his mother’s words from last issue--“It is what it is,” but then adds on in a way that sounds like the sort of ‘steel yourself for nightmares’ mantra learned from everyone’s favorite grandmonster. Even as it gives Baal an adult-sounding stoicism, it also makes him sound like a little boy.

And speaking of Baal’s complicated relationships with children: Had we been told before now that Mini ascended just a month after him? It strikes me as a brilliant move on Ananke’s part. Right from the start she’s set up her replacement self as a little sister for Baal to protect.

Two issues in a row we’ve got Mini as the seeming target of the Great Darkness bug fiesta. Is that because it knows who she really is/will be? Is the GD somehow in league with Ananke, and the attacks on Mini are just another way of keeping everyone thinking of her as Everybody’s Favorite Divine Lil Sis? Or does this, too, have something to do with Baal? Could it be that it’s actually Baal and not Laura that is well and truly cursed?

TOPOGRAPHICAL FLUIDITY

The heart of issue 27 is the five double-page spreads in which the standard left to right, up to down of Western comic storytelling slowly breaks down. On the first splash we’ve got a Laura/Sakhmet story riding the top, then the lower three quarters of each page telling their own stories (though really it’s the continuation of Baal’s story from page one to two). The second spread flips the structural arrangement, but now the left and the runner are continuing a story while on the right page we’re with Laura and Baph and Laura’s sister and ow oh God that hurts to read.

The pages continue to shift and change from there, with one section always following Laura, at least one following Dio/Cass at the rave, and the other one or two checking in on what other characters are up to.

The thing I love about the approach is how it speaks to the disintegration within the group that Laura ordained with her choice of “Anarchy” last issue. We’re not in complete collapse by any means, we can definitely follow the narratives, but the idea that these characters are starting to go in different directions is literally demonstrated in the structure of the page.

And also in the way the pages alter the visual language of Dio’s earlier rave (from issue 8). We’ve got the same 16 block grid structure, but it’s twice as dense; now every block contains an actual story panel, as compared to half for most of 8, with the other half used for the ongoing rave 1-2-3-4 countdowns.

Whereas issue 8′s dance pages had a sort of expansiveness, a sense of the rave as the overriding context that the story panels are just a part of, in 27 we’ve lost all that. In fact the rave is only one small part of what’s going on, even as its grid and color frames remain. (It’s interesting to see the rave visual style used as well for what precedes and follows it; it’s like the energy of the rave is starting to bleed out beyond the confines in which it makes sense.)

It’s also worth noting the rave in issue 8 ends with different members of the Pantheon one after another finishing Dionysius’ sentence, as though all one person. Another great contrast with the never-united narratives of issue 27.

But you know, even seeing how issue 27 offers an intensifying deterioration of the rave joy feel of issue 8, I still easily get lost in the visual dance of its two page spreads. I think it’s those bright frames; they just read to me as “fun”. (Apparently I’d be all good living in a prison camp as long it was decorated with Christmas lights.)

One moment does really snap me out of it, though:

No matter how bad things have gotten, Drunk Child Star Mini feels very unexpected. Plus who is she talking to? The camera team? Herself? Ananke Within?

(Actually, going back to issue 8 I realize we get a similar moment where out of the blue the story cuts to Minerva, talking directly to the camera with that same combination of ‘Don’t mind me.” and “Life sucks.”

So she’s almost certainly talking to their documentary squad.)

Mini drinking is not the worst thing we see in these pages by any means.

Ow. Ow. Oh God, Oh God it hurts.

But somehow that Mini moment (that mini Mini?) (#sorrynotsorry) is the moment I find most off key.

ONE MORE ONE MORE TIME

Hmm. That comparison between the two Mini moments has got me thinking...

You know, give me a second...

*time passes*

So hey, I’m back. I just went back through the rave in issue 8. Here are some of its major beats:

Dio tries to help Laura let go.

Laura becomes a part of everything going on.

Laura talks about her family and sketches them in light.

Cassandra cannot connect.

Sakhmet and Laura look each over and then start dancing together.

Woden watches.

Mini is left out.

The Morrigan warns Laura about getting too into Baphomet.

Everyone unites around Dio’s thought of making people’s lives better, because the end is coming soon.

Each of those beats is returned to issue 27.

Dio tries to help Cassandra let go.

Laura tries to disconnect from everything that’s happened.

Laura thinks about when she got Baphomet to create an illusion of her family.

Cassandra finally connects, saying “You’re full of stars”, which is what Laura said to her at the rave in issue 8. But then she rejects the connection.

Laura, now with Sakhmet, wonders what’s the worst thing she could do to her.

Woden watches. (Jamie uses the very same image.)

Mini is still left out, and now drinking.

Laura gets too into Baphomet, and now Baphomet is locked away with the Morrigan.

Cassandra rejects the connection.

There’s a little more in each rave than that (Woden plotting, Woden calling for a hook up, Baal and Inanna), but you gotta love the way the parallels show those stories having progressed (and not for the better).

(Also, I know Dio is on life support at this point, but man it feels like there should be one more cast rave, doesn’t it? Jonesing for my rule of threes.)

LOCK STEP

In the final pages we shift to two pages of a sort of call and response; on the left side we get David telling us what’s “really going on”, aka in year two the gods lose it, and on the right we cut back to each god in their own version of doing that, and ending on the punch line of Cassandra.

She’s the one god who seems to have her head well and truly on straight, the adult in the room, but here she is just staring silently at what has been her white whale the whole issue, Ananke’s Murderous Mystery Machine.

Gillen’s notes on this moment are familiar, chilling and wonderful:

Comrade Rossignol, my old partner in crime, game developer and co-writer on The Ludocrats, and I have a line we tend to quote to one another. It’s a paraphrase of a quote from Ballard: ‘My advice to anyone in any field is to be faithful to your obsessions. Identify them and be faithful to them, let them guide you like a sleepwalker.’

We quote it as: ‘Stay true to your obsessions and your obsessions will be true to you.’

It’s basically been our respective careers’ magnetic north, but there’s certainly times when I wonder how good it’s proved for us as human beings.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE

You could easily go from Cassandra staring silently up to the spooky final full page spread of her white whale itself. But instead Gillen gives us an extra six panel page first. It seems puzzling; we don’t really need to have David ask “Are you okay?” We already know that Cass isn’t, and that she doesn’t know it.

But for me what makes that page so important is that it gives the other Norns the chance to ask David about their own fate. Imperial Phase I has taken Skuld and Verdandi from silent back-up singers to real emotional partners with Cass, indeed the dominants to her submissive. By presenting us with the question of their fate we’re reminded of the fullness of their humanity; their lives are just as valuable as that of Cass.

Their question also plays very much to Gillen’s comment about the destructive impacts of artistic obsession. These gods don’t just hurt themselves; they put their families, their fans, their friends at risk. What will Skuld and Verdandi do when those dangers come for them, one wonders...?

#wicdiv #kieron gillen #jamie mckelvie #Hoping for a Skuld and Verdandi sitcom spinoff #matt wilson is the god of colors

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kowlazovdi-archive · 6 years

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I remember you mentioning something super cool about Yechovkan culture (or maybe it was an aesthetic or something) but I DONT REMEMBER WHAT. So, random facts hoping it's in there ? :3

oh boy have you opened a can of worms here my friend i love world building talk

Religion:

The Yechovkan’s worship a pantheon of nine gods, with Kowla/Kroltz being their honorific - loosely translating to ‘Divine Queen/King’

And I’m just gonna give u the whole creation myth condensed cos its not really spoilery nor does the full extent of it come up in Deaths Hand, so!!!(also its not particularly well written but it gives you the gist)

The first four gods to exist in the world were the three sisters Rezi (goddess of the sky, and the oldest), Danya (goddess of the ocean, and the middle sister), and Zovdi (goddess of death, and the youngest), and the Darkness (a similar figure to what we would call satan/the devil/lucifer) which at this point engulfed everything. Zovdi and the Darkness always had a special relationship. It was Rezi that first banished the Darkness and revealed the world beneath.

Rezi chose to stay in the sky so she could better watch over this new found land, whilst Danya and Zovdi went below to explore - Zovdi mourning for her lost friend.

Danya eventually began to despair at the barren nature of the world and sat down and started weeping so much that her tears became the Oceans. Zovdi sat beside her sister and comforted her, and their shared grief - Danya’s for the world, Zovdi’s for the Darkness - formed Vishka, the gender neutral deity of love. Time had not yet been invented, so Danya’s and Vishka’s love formed in an instant and burned out over an eternity. Zovdi only had to take one look at her sister to know that she was now alone.

Danya and Vishka took hands and together they created the other gods: Svoral, lord of the forests who created the fauna and the flora; Mazek, the god of emotion; Kedaztan, the god of law and order, who decided that night should differ from day, who created the concept of time, who decided that there should be a right and a wrong; and Dolenav, the god of wisdom and creativity who gave the inhabitants of this new world the tools to go forth and create, and to give their lives meaning other than simply survive.

For a while, the world was perfect. Plagued not by disease, pain, or death. The gods would walk amongst humanity and Zovdi, goddess of nothing, would watch from the sidelines. Always waiting for the Darkness of night so that she could once again be with her old friend.

When the Darkness did arrive, Zovdi would wrap herself in her old friends embrace and she would cry into his chest and lament her loneliness, and her loneliness resonated with him.

Every night Zovdi and the darkness would meet, and her tears quickly turned into laughter and his form solidified. Soon enough the darkness was a creature all of his own, and the two entities friendship grew into a deep, and true love.

The two were happy, for a time. Until one day they were walking hand in hand through one of Svoral’s forests and they came across a hare with fur white as snow. Zovdi was immediately entranced by the creature and called it over, but the moment the creature touched the Darkness its heart stopped and its blood run cold.

Death had been brought into the world.

The others were furious. They chased the darkness through the world, with Zovdi by his side, until his newly formed legs could not keep him moving anymore. It was Mazek who made the blow. His emotions overtaking his judgement. He cast Zovdi, who had had been protecting the Darkness with her form, aside. Thrusting his hand into the Darkness’ chest, he ripped out the gods Essence of Being, his Spark of Divinity that had allowed him to gather conscious and form, and the Darkness dissipated into nothing.

Mazek’s own nature was changed that day, from the god of emotions he became the god of war.

Zovdi screamed and lunged for Mazek, wanted justice for the death of her friend and lover, but her sisters stood before him. Blocking the god from Zovdi’s wrath. Zovdi knew that she could have forced her way through, she could feel the growing power at her fingertips, but no matter how hurt and betrayed she might have felt she knew in her heart of hearts that she could never harm her sisters.

The pantheon retreated from the earth to the stars, fearful of what harm they could bring to their beloved world. But Zovdi was exiled from the company of the divine, destined to forever walk the winds alone to preside over the souls of the departed. To teach humans how to release their souls from their bones and to escort them across the furthest ice where peace waited for them.

Yechovkan’s believe that if you listen closely on a particularly windy day, you can still hear Zovdi’s screams for her lover echo through the gales.

Death Rituals:

Yechovkan’s believe that a persons soul lies within their bones, trapped unless someone lets it out. This is why upon death a body is taken by a Votranishka (a servant of Zovdi) to the catacombs that run beneath the continent to be washed and drained of blood. Once the body is drained of blood, the Votranishka will gather her needles and ink - the needs long and sharp enough to pierce the bone beneath the flesh - and start writing the story of the deceased life, whilst also releasing their soul to go to the Beyond. The Votranishka would have spent the day prior going through records and talking to the deceased loved ones so as to get the best possible picture of their life.

Yechovkan’s believe that what happens to your body after death is what happens to your soul, which is why the bodies of the deceased are laid to rest in the well maintained catacombs rather than buried or cremated. They also believe that you should always keep a bodies eyes open, for if they are closed after death then the deceased’s soul will not be able to see, and subsequently will not be able to make their way across the furthest ice to the afterlife.

Depictions of the after life vary across Yechovka, mostly it is depicted as simply another life. A continuation of the one they had on earth, simply in a world beyond theres. One thing is certain for the religious though, in order to get to this world ones soul must cross The Furthest Ice, a near endless tundra where the soul is completely and utterly alone and is forced to contemplate their life. The ice forces them to confront the sins of their mortal life and if you can face them, if you can face all that you are without breaking, the ice will take them and freeze them in the endless tundra. If you cannot face your sins, then your soul breaks and you are forced to wander The Furthest Ice for eternity, always plagued by the visions and the reality of your life and sins. Due to this, ice is viewed as a purifying element in Yechovka, whereas fire is viewed as dirty.

Gender Roles:

In Yechovkan society, people of all genders are viewed as equal and it has always been written in law so that the eldest child of each house - regardless of gender - is the one who inherits the title.

Despite this, there are certain occupations that are viewed as leaning towards a certain gender due to the deity that represents it.

For example; men in Yechovka are viewed as being the natural occupants of the forests due to Svoral being a male deity.

Due to Vishka, the deity of love, being completely gender neutral, love is seen as the true domain of non-binary people. NB people are often excluded from having to marry for wealth or social gains, and the love of NB people in Yechovkan society is often viewed to be truer than the love of men and women. Many NB people go on to become matchmakers and become officials who preside over marriages/give blessings to relationships (those relationships being romantic, platonic, familial, ect - the love of Vishka is not confined). NB people are also more encouraged than men or women to follow their passions in life as passion is viewed as an outward form of love.

Due to Danya being a goddess of the oceans, sailors in Yechovka are almost entirely women and it is often considered bad luck for a man to be on board a ship.

Some facts about Sailor women in Yechovka:

- ships will not set sail unless there’s at least one person on board who was born under the stars of Danya

- many children are raised aboard the ships their mothers work on, these children are called ‘ocean born’

- many sailor women do not get married, instead opting for lovers in port cities and amongst the crew

- sailor women are viewed by general society as wild creatures who are better off at sea than causing havoc on land

- many sailors were born upon the sea, their mothers also being sailors - the oldest line of sailor women can be traced back 200 years

Despite the deity of the sky, Rezi, being female in nature, airplanes are not considered the domain of any particular gender due to them only having been invented super recently and superstitions regarding religion/religion in general are typically not taken very serious in Yechovka anymore. Men belonging in the forests, women belonging at see, and love being the true domain of NB people is simply well respected tradition at this point. Yechovka has an equal number or male, female, and NB pilots.

#wip: deaths hand #I WENT SO OVERBOARD IM SORRY #I GET SUPER EXCITED WHEN PEOPLE ASK ABOUT YECHOVKA BECAUSE I LOVE THIS SHIT SHOW OF A COUNTRY SO MUCH #georgiacambrielwritblr

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

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Runeterra Retcons: Ruination Episode (Shadow Isles)