#mythos risen

[meteorstricken]

Mythos Risen : Honestly what makes perfect symbiotic bond and such, is Clive has the skill and experience of a warrior, with Ultima having the vast godly knowledge and power. Scary to think what they could do together.

Scary, yes.

But also mind-shattering levels of awesome.

Whether it's a struggle of wills worn down to a terrifying hair's breadth or a total re-evaluation of what hope means, there's so, so much to play with there.

[waloeders]

okay okay. ff16 si i guess ehehe,,

his name is ryder but ultima (+barnabas) call him kosmos all the time. hes an isekai who gets pulled into the world by ultima sometime after clive defeats hugo and gets (some) of clives powers grafted onto him. hes supposed to be like a backup if mythos fails but um.

it doesnt work super well! the stress+strain of the travel+power graft causes parts of his hair to go a really pale white and he has a bunch of chronic pain partly bc of it, but also just in general,,, (not projection at all ..)

he ends up being taken by barnabas and slepnir after that n just sorta hangs out with them until odins defeat. things get a lil crazy n complicated afterwards but thats the jist <3

picrew source

[cypreus-and-willow]

"Greetings from Cybertron!"

Searching for Cybertron Postcard (2022)

A Mucha style postcard featuring Windblade, Chromia and Nautica as mythological creatures of sky, land and sea on their search for Cybertron.

The Phoenix double sided bookmark

Featuring Starscream/Sunstorm as both fallen and risen Phoenix. It always just fascinates that Screamer is immortal and his clone is... well... like this.

These are the pieces that I did for Mythos: a Transformers Zine. Image descriptions in ALT

BONUS

I drew the sketch art for the cover. It's Optimus and Megatron depicted in a stained glass window.

[bunchofdoodlesinspace]

Usually I just go on reblogging sprees after episodes but I just can't stop thinking.

About how in the original mythos, Ouranos, the primordial sky god, was rebelled against and killed after the mistreatment of his other children, who he threw into Tartarus. How Kronos cut him to pieces, urged to do so by his own mother, Gaia.

And then how, during Kronos's ruling, "The Golden Age", when he has his own children, he fears them doing the same to him. He eats them, but misses one, who is saved by his mother Rhea. She then prepares him to save his siblings, and so he, Zeus, urged by his mother, kills his father and cuts him to pieces.

And now, in the show, we see Zeus, the current ruler, dismissive of Percy's warnings. Ruling with an iron fist and insisting on total obedience from his siblings and children, lest they make an enemy they will regret. His own solution to maintaining control, one that does not seem to be holding up super well.

And Percy calls him out on it.

Because he knows the myths, and by now, he's seen it for himself with his own eyes. This isn't working. This is just perpetuating the mess, continuing the cycle of violence against each other. It punishes cooperation in favour of total obedience, which just does not work for some. It's not just the Olympians that are a mess, it's their whole family tree. This shit is generational, and had Percy not been there to say something about it, to try and confront the God of the fucking Sky himself, Kronos probably would have risen and taken over before Zeus would have been ready to admit he needed help with the problem. The fact that Poseidon stepped in to back Percy up just proves that.

As much as Zeus would hate to ever admit it, he's lucky this impertinent child has a chronic inability to keep his mouth shut.

[maidenofsophia]

Just a PSA to say that for anyone looking to worship Sophia - you do not have to be a Christian (Esoteric, Gnostic or otherwise) to have Her as your goddess.

Sophia is not the "wife of God" or "bride of Christ". Sophia is great Goddess in Her own right. As Barbelo She is the Forethought of the All and the Mother of the Pleroma. She is the Creatrix of the cosmos, flaws and all. She birthed a Daughter, Zoe, without a male consort. Zoe is Life, She is the breath of holy wisdom in all living things. Sophia's supposed flaw in the Gnostic myth is that her desire to reproduce without a male resulted in the Demiurge, but I firstly don't believe in the Demiurge, and secondly reject the idea that Sophia's supposed lesson is Her conforming to joining with a male to be whole. As mentioned, She births Zoe on Her own, who is benevolent. And so the idea that She must be placed beside a male divinity feels wrong to me. The Gnostic texts were not supposed to be literal and were written in an extremely sexist and heteronormative time. There is no need to stick to that.

Sophia is Mother, Daughter and Absolute Mystery. Sophia can be worshipped as God (or Goddess) in Her own right and not as a consort or counterbalance to the masculine Christian deity.

Those who do worship Her that way, that's perfectly valid, I'm not knocking that at all.

I just wanted to state this because I struggled for years as a Sophian devotee but not wanting to involve Yeshua or the Christian Father God in my faith. But my heart still yearned for a masculine deity. I thought that could only work with someone linked to any of Sophia's mythos' but I just felt nothing for them. The Sophia I follow has many stories and poetry surrounding Her, some of that is Christian, some of it is Jewish, some is Plato, some is Filianist. She transcends any single religion or location.

My Lord, the Horned One, has no ties to Sophia. At a stretch, in his form as Lucifer he can be seen as a parallel to her. I also headcanon that Lucifer is the archon Sabaoth mentioned in the NHL texts. Sabaoth witnesses the glory of Zoe and, enamored by Her, disowns his false father and is risen up to sit at Her side. But there's mention of a romantic union between them. He is Her chosen steward but not Her equal, He is Her loving subordinate.

But I rarely interact with my Lord as Lucifer, He mostly comes to me as Pan or Cernonnus. His station is much the same, He is not this "great Father God" who sits on High - I believe Sophia needed none to help Her birth creation. He is however a fatherly god, his energies replenish the land and he helps it to thrive, He is also brother and friend.

Again no disrespect to anyone who does worship Sophia as the consort to the Christian Father God or Jesus. This is just for anyone like myself who fell in love with Sophia but didn't want to feel they had to then be a Christian of any sort.

[radioactive-earthshine]

wouldn't mind fannon enjoyers so much if they didn't constantly insist their fannon was fact and get mad at cannon-compliant fanworks for contradicting their fannon

It's such a perplexing thing that it could be someone's master thesis honestly...

Comics is a subculture, period, it's been around for decades. Fanon however is sort of a new BEAST that's risen in the last 15-ish years.

I've been in comics fandom for a very, very long time and prior to fanon gaining a foothold in fandom spaces anything like a fanon concept was simply classified as "crack" or a sensible "AU" that is prevalent across all fandoms. They were amusing and fun.

"Yes this is ooc, yes this didn't happen, I know it didn't happen like this but... what if it did?" are fundamentals of fanworks. The thing is usually these are transformative works when the person writing it generally knows what they are transforming.

Fanon in many cases just, doesn't. It's a lie that was made up for someones benefit, popularized, and then passed around so much that it cannot be traced to any part of the source material even if you squint. It's like American history that Baby Boomers were told and they sincerely believe that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree and could never lie <- I am sorry this is the only thing I could think of that is close to what is going on here.

Fix-It AUs are also like, fundamentals too and again fanon cannot even be called this because there's no real event that seems to be being fixed, it's just taking the entire mythos and lying about it and getting mad it's not supported by the source material in any capacity.

But yeah, fanon declaring that it is actually canon is a whole critter I don't know what to do with...

[klaasje]

plz share your miku essay 👀

DISCLAIMER. this was written in the throes of 2020 lockdown fever and it shows lol

THE GIRL WHO’LL LIVE FOREVER

until tonight, i didn’t know hatsune miku wasn’t real. my hazy assumption was that someone ‘played’ hatsune miku in the same way that mark ruffalo plays the hulk - i thought there was an actress out there who provided the basis for her body and voice. i was right about one of these things, but only accidentally, and remarkably wrong about the rest of it. i am writing this because a) i have literally nothing else to do and b) because i thought the rabbit hole i just fell down was really cool! cool, strange, fascinating, and also kind of sad. anyway. close your eyes and pretend it’s 2007:

yamaha’s vocaloid software is grounded in the concept of ‘voices’. there’s the VOCALOID program itself, the act of writing music that can be played by a machine, and then there are the voices you can use to synthesise it. in 2007, there were 3 voice banks available: a western voice bank named ‘sweet ann’, CV01, and CV02.

CV01 (character voice 1) was developed by crypton media as the first japanese voice bank. character voice 1, as names go, is not particularly appealing - so to increase interest in VOCALOID software and attract a userbase willing to learn it, the team behind CV01 decided to put a name and a face to the voice they’d created. it went, from what can be discerned via google, the wayback machine, and a scattering of translated interviews, something like this: hatsune miku’s voice was based on vocal samples given by saki fujita, a well-established voice actress and living human being. the voice bank itself was built by designer wataru sasuski. her physical appearance, including her iconic outfit and improbably huge aquamarine pigtails, were created by kei garou, a cartoonist and illustrator. everything else was left intentionally as a blank slate - and in the ensuing years, her cult following of fans have risen to the challenge of filling in the gaps. for better or worse.

one of the few canonical facts about hatsune miku is her age. she is, according to her creators, a sixteen year old girl from a distant future where music was forgotten. her outfit reflects this, styled in a fashion reminiscent of seifuku-style school uniforms: skirt, shirt, stockings, and a tie. i did not know there was a specific word for that until just now. anyway - hatsune miku was sixteen in 2007, and she has been sixteen ever since.

i have watched… more than a few vocaloid AMVs tonight! the oldest ones resembled a cross between second life and final fantasy 8 cutscenes - bizarre, rigid avatars performing bizarre, rigid choreography in a number of inexplicable locales, such as endless fields of wheat, a gothic cathedral, and (most memorably), a busted nuclear reactor - but eventually i reached the live recordings, which is where things graduated from funny-weird to weird-weird. the production value, compared to those early videos, was off the charts. the songs, as far as i could tell, were the same. this is often lauded as one of the most unique, inimitable facets of the ‘miku experience’ - her songs are written (and choreographed) by her fans. world is mine, one of her most popular live performances at 8 million hits, started life as one of those stilted, second life-esque animations.

so miku’s songs are written by her fans. hatsune miku, the character, the experience, the mythos - is collectively created by her fans. which begs the question: who are her fans? who created the youtube videos? who has the time, resources, and sheer dedication necessary to create AMVs for an ever-young, ever-pleasant, angel-voiced teenager, with a sylphlike body and a skin tight school uniform?

i didn’t make the connection, at first. maybe this was naive of me. while absorbing the first few miku live videos, hearing her babytalk, watching her perform - my initial assumption was that miku audiences would primarily be teenagers (and their grim-faced parents), people who could relate to miku as an aspirational ‘peer’. her dance moves, especially, led me down this route - is fortnite still big with the youth? i’m 22, i have accepted that my days as someone who knows What’s Big With The Youth are behind me, but i still hear vague echoes from time to time. fortnite dances. tiktok. hatsune miku. etc. what was i saying. oh yeah. miku dances with a camera in mind, the way a tiktok influencer dances: effervescent, front-facing, with hand gestures that beg to be imitated. the more i watched her the more i recognised the unnerving, uncanny quality emanating from the stage. i realised where i’d seen it before. we live in a remarkable age of animation: where AAA studios are creating death scenes so realistic they can provoke a trauma response in the people animating them, where a horse’s bollocks will infamously shrink when exposed to pixel snow, and where hatsune miku dances with unerring, flawless fluidity, while the gleaming stage lights fall perfectly on her virtual body. 

she looks so at home in 3-dimensional space, especially in the newest videos, it's easy to forget she isn't there. she looks real. like you could touch her. she will never, of course, be real. you will never, of course, touch her. but you can touch her in other ways. you can write songs with her voice and make her dance to them; you can manipulate the movements of her body, every minute bob of her pigtails, puppet her, propel her. is that the appeal? is that why her audiences look the way they do? i am thinking about tabula rasa and whether the miku slate was ever truly blank. it makes me sad. there’s something poignant about the intersection of humanity and technology that vocaloids represent. they were the first crossing of a border that will continue to be crossed for the rest of the 21st century. in a virtual age, with virtual bodies, what constitutes as ‘real’? where, and how, do we draw a line?

to my surprise, there is a miku song i genuinely like: ‘miku’ ft. hatsune miku, by anamanaguchi. the music video strips the avatar away and leaves the voice bare, nothing but the blood and guts of a vocaloid, synthesizers and computers in an empty recording studio - and this nakedness simultaneously dispels and intensifies my discomfort. it reminds me that the miku vocaloid is more than the sum of its parts. despite the controversy surrounding the fanbase who propeled hatsune miku to fame, there is still something undeniably compelling about this. about her. maybe it’s that animal hindbrain piping up, pricking up the hairs on the back of my neck: this is not a human voice. this is something other, something new. the lyrics do not shy from this. miku, miku, what’s it like to be you? followed by, play me, break me, make me feel like superman, you can do anything you want - and, most poignantly, you found me here inside a dream, walk through fire straight to me. fire walk with me. miku’s existence is a lynchian fever dream; and what’s more, in this song, she knows it. i’m not saying hatsune miku and laura palmer need to be compared and contrasted. but i’m also not NOT saying that. i am saying that this song, like every other miku song, is the catchiest song in the world. like it was developed in a lab to be an ear worm. i suppose, in some ways, that’s the point.

[hplovecraftmuseum]

H. P. Lovecraft will probably always be associated with the 'Pulp Magazines' of the 1920s and 30s. However, though the majority of his works appeared in pulp magazines and amateur publications Lovecraft was not a pulp writer by choice. The fact is that the 'pulps' were the only ones who would accept him. Nearly all Lovecraft's friends and fellow writers knew that there was something extraordinary about the man and his fiction. His peers recognized that Lovecraft's works transcended their own and deserved far greater and more serious consideration. Many of the great names in modern horror literature were alive in Lovecraft's day. Quite a few of them outlived him. Yet, Machen, Blackwood, Chambers. Dunsany, M. R. James, etc. Never acknowledged Lovecraft's fiction. Many of them had probably never heard of him. Today Lovecraft has risen to the level of Poe, Vern, and H. G. Wells as a literary figure, but the stain of the pulps will always mark him in the eyes of some. As I see Lovecraft his works are like a diamond in a box of beads and plastic baubles. To the average person that diamond might not be recognized as anything special, at least not at first glance. But to a jeweler, the diamond in the box of paste and plastic beads cannot be overlooked. We have THE CTHULHU MYTHOS, we have the Roll Playing Games, we have the works of other pulp writers who have gained postumous fame. Then we have Lovecraft. The 2 images below Lovecraft's pictures were the work of Gustav Dore'. (Exhibit 446)

[ave-immaculata]

Why do you hate gay people, seriously, just when I start to associate Catholics in my head as "the cool Christians" a homophobic Catholic comes along and ruins the good image your brothers and sisters in faith were trying to build up. Like what did we even do to you? You can pursue your salvation and leave us to rot in hell without an unnecessary culture war, right?

I genuinely don't, and I'm not sure what post you're referring to, but I'm sorry that it gave the impression that I hate you or anyone else. I experience same sex attraction (although I don't talk about it much) and, although I do definitely get frustrated at time about disagreements, I'm sorry that I clearly portrayed myself as hating you or anybody.

That said, the whole point is that we don't want to let anyone just rot in hell. We want everyone to be saved. I cannot pursue salvation without trying to bring as many people as I can with me, and in my clumsiness, that sometimes re-wounds people in already really tender places. God wants to enter into the bruised and pierced and tramuatized and closed off places in our hearts and just sit with us, seeing us in truth and in complete love.

Christ is a Person, who truly existed. He was crucified and then His apostles had a sincere belief that they had seen Him raised from the dead, that they'd spoken with Him and touched Him. The overwhelming majority of historians (including non-Christians) affirm this to be true. His Apostles gave up everything to preach His message, being tortured and murdered rather than recant that they had encountered the Risen Lord. This isn't just a mythos we believe, it's history, and it belongs to you as your birthright.

God loves me, you, all of us, not in spite of our sins. He doesn't think, if only they could get over x, they'd be better and more deserving of love. He loves us now with a love beyond all comprehension. He wants us to come to Him and let Him see us. He wants us to be in right relationship with Him. He want us to turn away from what can never satisfy the achings in our hearts. This world is only a glimpse of what is to come, and it will never be enough when we were made for Communion with an eternal and infinitely loving God.

[adrien2501-blog]

Dagon: A study of cosmic terror

HP Lovecraft's Dagon is a 1919 short story that is a delve into Cosmic horror and one of the earliest works of what would become the Lovecraft Mythos.

Dagon focuses on a sailor during the Great War who's ship is sunk in the pacific by a German U-boat. The protagonist survives in a lifeboat as the Germans strand him at sea. Drifting about at sea, The unnamed protagonist finds himself in strange black waters whilst also starting to experience strange dreams and visions. Not long after, the protagonist found himself on a strange island, described by Lovecraft as, “So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me, that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean, strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea-fowl to prey upon the dead things.” The protagonist begins to trek across the island where he encounters a strange towering monolith. The protagonist comes to realize that despite how massive the monolith is that it was built by something, He also describes the monolith in some details such as: “The writing was in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to me, and unlike anything I had ever seen in books,” and as “It was the pictorial carving, however, that did most to hold me spellbound. Plainly visible across the intervening water on account of their enormous size, were an array of bas-reliefs whose subjects would have excited the envy of a Doré.”(Dagon, Lovecraft) The narrator also describes the beings depicted as fish-men and did not go into further detail. Eventually, the Protagonist encounters one of the monsters depicted on the monolith, describing it as “Vast, Polyphemus-like, and loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith, about which it flung its gigantic scaly arms, the while it bowed its hideous head and gave vent to certain measured sounds.” At this point the protagonist flees and remembers nothing else until he wakes up in a hospital in San Francisco, making minor inquiries particularly about the ancient god Dagon though is overall fruitless. The story ends with the Protagonist being attacked in his home.

Dagon is a high quality story that focuses on ambient terror and the fear that comes from encountering unknown beings that you can’t explain. Lovecraft describes much of what we see though makes it clear that what both we and the characters in the story are encountering are things that are beyond our comprehension. Such prose and concepts are a hallmark of both Lovecraft’s writing and the Lovecraft Mythos. For those into ambient horror with little answers, Dagon is a great starter story as much of the hesitation and unease builds from the background. There’s not really any jump scares in the story until the conclusion, instead focusing on building uneasiness such as by describing the environment and the alien writing on the monolith making it known that whilst the monolith says something, it’s not human nor is it meant to be read by humans, putting the protagonist and by extension humanity into an alien world. Lovecraft also makes excellent use of scale to create tension, both the monolith and the creature are described as colossal as the monolith is surrounded by a huge and deep pit and the creature is described as "Polympheus-like” (Dagon, Lovecraft)as an allusion to the cyclops of the Odyssey.This scale adds to the terror as it represents humanity’s place in the grand scale of the universe, just as animals such as ants are insignificant to humanity, so are we to the creatures and the universe with which we live in. The lack of any true explanation and context also plays into this sense of cosmic terror that the protagonist and the reader are exposed to as we are left with clues to interpret and speculate what we are dealing with and it works in this story as one of the central themes of Cosmic horror is the incomprehensibility of the universe around us. 

Works Cited

Lovecraft, Howard  Phillips. “Dagon.” “Dagon” by H. P. Lovecraft, 20 Aug. 2009, www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/d.aspx. 

"Dagon" by H. P. Lovecraft (hplovecraft.com)

[ej-rambles]

More of my BBH hcs :D!

(Following my Fallen Angel Au!)

When he was a human he had brown hair and bright green eyes, he kept his hair short and was quiet most of the time

As he grew up he found safety in the Church/Arena.  They took him in and he started volunteering- this is what caught the eye of his Patron- one of the Gods of Sacrifice

He grew his hair out around this time and started over seeing the holy games

When he was Risen he was given the name ‘Saint of Games’ and his eyes turned fully green with no pupil, his hair also started to turn blond due to being closer to the sun

When he fell he gained marking around his eyes, remaining the same colour as his human skin while the rest turned to shadows, he gained the black tar tears around his eyes and gained a tail

Later on he would loose his eyes and gain what he would call “sorores” (Sisters in Latin; ref to the grey sisters in Greek mythos); floating eyes that would allow him to see; he would consider them him one mercy.  The eyes are not fully controlled by him, they react to him/his emotions more than anything.  Two will normally be open at a time, meaning that he won’t have to sleep often (which is how he is able to be live everyday).  They are not really visible to other people, they can see them out of the corner of their eyes but they can never pin them down.  They see what they /think/ are eyes on bad’s face but it’s just an illusion.  When bad is angry they become more visible and when he is at his ‘full power’ they form a halo around his head and glow, they also gain pupils depending on how angry he (and chat) are.

There is one ever constant spirit who follows him- a dog spirit who walks along the lie of the veil- she is by far the weirdest spirit Bad has encountered.  He has no clue why others can hear her barks and whines but hear nothing of the other spirits. He nicknames her Rat.

Also fun to note that in this au Foolish is a god/demigod of Rebirth and knew Bad when he was an angel.

[meteorstricken]

Mythos Risen, Chapter 7

Clive broke out into a cold sweat. There it was after all—Ultima’s name for him, albeit not at the cost of his own for once. A raging ache that wasn’t his curdled deep in the pit of his stomach at the sound of it—a longing millennia in the making, denied. A purpose, betrayed. Profaned. Hot tears pricked his eyes, and the back of his throat burned with an unbidden, overwhelming desire to scream.

For a split second, he feared he might be on the verge of priming out of control.

[skaylanphear]

Thunder and Shadow

Summary: Five years after Ultima’s defeat, those left behind have no choice but to push onward in a world still on the precipice of ruin. Left with all that remains of Clive—her twin boys—both Jill and Joshua do all that can be to ensure the world they grow up in is one of less strife and struggle than what came before. But the destruction of the crystals and the god that created them has left the aether and eikons in a state of chaotic distress that plagues the entirety of Valisthea. And now, to have received a letter from the north about stone bearers coming back to life, Jill has a new mystery to unfold.

At the same time, Clive finds himself waking on what he thinks must be the eastern Rosarian coast, though how he arrived there, he doesn’t know. Nor has he any idea how much time has passed since that final fight with Ultima. But as he begins to investigate, he sees a battle of eikonic proportions in the distance, one that revives old, bitter memories. Ifrit, perhaps, can make up for wrongs wrought so long ago.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, a shadow manipulates them all, his eyes set on those who would become dominants and tools both.

Chapter 3

Though he knew it'd been years—though he knew Joshua was alive—the night at Phoenix Gate would forever haunt him. Waking up in cold sweats, remembering the heat and the sound of tearing feathers and flesh, and the way his little brother had screamed out for his help…

He'd hold onto that nightmare forever.

"Mama, help…"

He wasn't Jill, but this time, he'd do something.

Reaching out, he grabbed this Diabolos by the horn and, snarling, ripped him free of the thunderbird. With a massive swing, he sent it flying across the field and away, the whole world feeling as though is shook beneath him as the demon smashed into the dirt.

Turning his focus to Quezacotl, Ifrit surveyed the damage. Blood and flickering feathers were splattered everywhere, deep gouges dug out along his chest and throat. But around the wounds, aether sparkled. Though the wounds were deep and severe, they were not lethal, not to an eikon.

Yet, that didn't lessen the agony.

 Only a child.

Whimpering, Ifrit nearly reached out, memories of holding Joshua when he'd pushed himself too hard flashing through his thoughts. Quezacotl was still, was barely breathing at all, and he wanted nothing more than to hold him, to let him know it was okay. He wasn't alone and this fight wasn't a burden he had to bear alone.

Yet, even as he felt his heart pulling closer to his nephew, his instincts yanked him back in the other direction. Behind him, Diabolos was stirring, the akashic air sparking.

Whimper turning to a furious growl, Ifrit whipped around, shoulders tensing as his vision flashed red.

Charging forward, he had Diabolos pinned to the ground before the demon had fully risen. He could tell by how it scraped at him, and howled, and flapped its webbed wings, that whoever this eikon was possessing had next to no experience being a dominant, or a host, or whatever they were. A feeble monster targeting the only thing it might stand a chance against—a helpless, desperate child.

Perhaps, were the situation different, Ifrit might have felt some semblance of mercy, or even pity, but as of then, there was none for this… akashic thing, whatever it was. All he had to spare was angry, fiery rage, and so he let it all go.

Roaring, he ripped Diabolos apart. Tore it limb from limb, shredding it even as it attempted to regenerate lost body parts, leaving it helpless to keep up. Against Ifrit—Mythos—a dominant with so much strength and experience, there was no hope. Tearing arm from shoulder, wing from back, Ifrit sheered through it all until he was able to get his jaws clamped down over the creature's jugular. Sinking his teeth into that poisoned flesh, he ignored the sulfur taste of one steeped in aether as he reached up and, with one clawed hand clamped around each horn, anchored both himself and Diabolos in place even as he pulled.

Diabolos screamed and struggled, but there was no escape. In one snapping moment, he split Diabolos apart, tearing its head from its shoulders and rendering it silent. Flesh and blood sprayed and snapped against him for a second, until the inevitability of death sparked. Glowing the sickening purple of aether, what remained of Diabolos' body began to dissolve, even as the stain of blood was left behind.

Dropping the mangled human head that would remain once the outer shell of Diabolos disintegrated, Ifrit leaned back, glowing red with heat and huffing as he watched to make sure the deed was fully done. Slithering into nothing, soon all that remained was the toxic, infected, headless corpse of a wasted, akashic man, glowing ever so faintly with deep red as the eikon's power diminished.

Reaching out, Ifrit allowed his hand close enough that he could feel the wavering darkness. Familiar.

Read More

And here’s a link to all my socials ;D I recently released a book for anyone who’s interested.

[slumberingchaos]

Final Fantasy 16: Aftermath (Not so Great Ending)

verse tag: 𝕧; 𝕀𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

synopsis: all eikons were once like ultima - ancient beings that trusted Ultima to find them their own perfect hosts in exchange for their corporeal forms. He puts them all into a cycle of death and rebirth until they find their mythos. The one most compatible with them and once they have, they assimilate. Unfortunately for Ultima, he forgets that it is not he that his mythos is perfect for but for the hell beast he could become.

Try as he might Clive could not survive the aftermath of his encounter with Ultima - though not for reasons one would think. No. Absorbing Ultima and resurrecting Joshua had been nothing to him, his body bearing the burden easily enough as it acclimated to the true power of his station. The hooded man had returned, risen from the dead almost, and this time… this time Clive was powerless to stop the beast now made whole. Darkness clouds his vision, his body erupting in flames that he could not begin to contain.

It is a last ditch effort to douse them that he throws himself over the edge of Origin into the depths of the ocean. His body washes up on the shores of the Twins hours later, his skin burned white from the flames within and Clive could not help but to fear that this was what those afflicted with the curse felt in their final moments. His last thoughts were of Jill and the final sunrise that he would see, hoping that she was watching it too - so he would not break at least one of his promises to her. To watch this together. His heart stuttered, frantic as it demanded he remain alive, before it stops the fires burning beneath his flesh turning it to ash as well.

His body does not wash away with the breeze as many other bearers had. It is even before his hand falls lifelessly to the sand below that something happens…

Clive is has returned to the hideaway, wounded and weakened, with both Dion and Joshua in tow. None are certain how they made it back to the hideaway but they are grateful for it all the same. But something…. Feels different about them. They act like themselves. Talk like themselves. But something is different - most brush it off. Being so near death can change people. Sometimes for the better… and often times it’s for the worst. Which it will be remains to be seen.

[phazius]

Outlaws of Alkenstar - Book 2 session ???

Ya I don’t really keep track of what session it is in like any of my games lol. Also this post is late, this game is Wednesday afternoons but I was super tired so here we are lol.

So we’re somewhere around the middle of book 2. This session was mostly wrap up of the a dungeon locale, getting back to the city, debriefing, and doing some shopping before their next mission. The party had gone through, well a whole fucking lot on an air ship to try and fast track it to a site out in the Spellscar Desert, a heretical temple of Brigh called the Cradle of Quartz. The ship sustained damage from being attacked several times and some really poor weather conditions so they landed and had to walk the last little be to the site. Once they got there though the situation didn't get any better... they first found the Clockwork Sphinx the man they were pursuing fled the city on in the main chamber of the temple. In a secret room at the back they found a journal of the being that founded the heretical sect that was staying here, they were a Shrine Sklem who was converting pilgrims of Brigh who would come to visit the site to Yog-Sothoth. Yup Cthulu Mythos Outer Gods shenanigans. Not long after they found this journal they encountered the creature that killed everyone here, a Hound of Tindalos anyone local would refer to as the Claws of Time. It would stalk them through the temple as they explored. Any of the priests that were once here had been slain by the Claws and had risen as undead of various types from the trauma and having their faith betrayed. The party would eventually find the Cradle of Quartz that gives the location its name, a perfect hollow sphere of quartz crystal. This is where they eventually confronted the Claws of Time (cause it would have murdered them anywhere else in a straight fight as a lvl 10 creature vs a lvl 6 party, being next to the sphere weakens it significantly) and inside the sphere they found the man they were searching for. This man had fled the city after gangers raided his workshop looking for the alchemical formula for Pyronite (Its basically Dynamite) that he had accidently reverse engineered under Outer God influence. For being rescued he told the party what had happened when his workshop was attacked and where he overheard they were going to test the formula first.

[morsrattus]

The Gods of Pent: The First Herd - North War Wind

North War Wind, the Lord of Battle, the Black Sword, the Death Horse

The Cult of North War Wind (DEATH DEATH TRUTH)

The North War Wind is Death, who is and who wields the Black Sword that separates and ends all things. No god is as feared, for the grim lord of the North Wind is the end of all things. He is there when each life ends, and his is the blade that kills men and horses alike, the ruler of all swords and the master of killing. His followers are a terrible and necessary lot, bound by oaths as strong as the iron blades they carry.

Mythos and History

Once, the North War Wind was not the Lord of Death, but merely one of many Wind Brothers, nameless and unimportant. He learned to fight, seeking his own power and nature, but this was not enough. He secluded himself in the Gate of Introspection for a year and a day, entering the Dark Place beneath the world. There, he found the Black Sword, the true and ultimate power: Death, which no god had known. He emerged from the Dark Place and showed this terrible thing he had found to Grandfather Mortal, the oldest human.

Grandfather Mortal died, and went into the Dark Place beneath the world, the Underworld. Every man who has ever lived now must follow him. North War Wind saw the power of Death and swore to use it responsibly, for it could destroy the world and could end all things. He saw that nothing was beyond its terrible power.

Unfortunately, the Black Sword would not remain his to command. West King Wind saw the power his brother had found, that he had risen to become the mightiest of all warriors, for he could kill. West King Wind envied this power, and he sent the Whirlwind Fool to steal it, that he might permanently end his enemies. He used it without caution or thought, and this released the true Death into the world. Men and horses and gods began to die and to kill.

North War Wind saw his brother's deeds and the terrible pain they had brought. He saw the shadow of death upon Yu-Kargzant and felt the end of all things come into existence. He reached into his own nature and swore an oath, severing himself from the Wind Gods and his ties to family. While he is still the lord of the North Wind, he gave up all power over the Air, for he could not be kin to West King Wind any more. He set out, then, to recover the Black Sword, whose shards had been spread across the world, bringing death with them.

Everywhere he went, North War Wind separated the living from the dead. He took the dead into the Underworld, in the Dark Place where Grandfather Mortal had gone. With each dead soul he sent into the Dark Place, he gathered a shard of the Black Sword, until at last he had enough to make a new Black Sword - smaller, lesser, but possessed of much of the power the original had. The smallest dead souls were easiest to send on, but some were more difficult, stronger, and gave North War Wind trouble. Still, he eventually found them all and sent them on, and he completed his Black Sword, which was his true essence. In his travels, he befriended the Good Death, Golden Bow, and the Bad Death, Basko. They became his left and right hands, dividing the living and dead apart and setting them on the right path.

Having achieved this, he set out to confront West King Wind, who had caused the problem. West King Wind was in the midst of proving his worthiness as khan, and he demanded his former brother obey him. North War Wind would not, and showed him the Black Sword and the terrible nature of Death. He killed West King Wind, and that is why West King Wind could pass into the Underworld to go and find Yu-Kargzant.

Only after West King Wind's return with Yu-Kargzant did North War Wind acknowledge his worthiness, for he had made right what had gone wrong. The world had ended, but the Lightbringers had brought it back, returning with the Dawn. And so, North War Wind swore an oath to obey the khan of the gods, but never again to be kin. He would obey the Truth and the Law, but death would come for all. Yu-Kargzant looked upon this oath and accepted it in the name of the world.

Now, North War Wind stands as the ultimate and final power, the wielder of Death. He is feared by all, but nothing can exist without meeting him any more, and by his power the span of a life is measured. He is a figure of terror, but also of honor, of courage, and of truth. He does not slaughter without purpose, and he teaches the First Herd how to wield the Black Sword of Death so that it will not destroy all.

Nature of the Cult

Every tribe must honor North War Wind, for he is present in every weapon, particularly swords, and his honor binds every oath sworn, even those to other gods. His power suffuses that of every warrior cult, and all warriors must honor him. However, few dedicate their life to Death, and the Cult of North War Wind is not large. Every tribe has members, warriors who are expert in the act of killing and nothing else. They will die before they break their oaths, and they are grim figures, the Living Deaths who make others uncomfortable but whose unbending honor and matchless skill in battle make them vital.

Depiction

North War Wind's Rider aspect is depicted as a plain and simple man bearing a black sword. His skin and hair can be any color, but his body is rarely particularly detailed compared to the sword, which is always long, straight and detailed. Often, he also carries a horsehair war banner. He is often accompanied by ravens or wolves, and he is always dressed as a warrior. In his Mount Aspect, North War Wind is a bone-white horse with black eyes and a black Death rune upon the forehead, wearing the saddle and barding of war.

Runes

North War Wind is the source of the Death Rune, and it is his strongest power. He also is associated with the Truth Rune, but his power over it is much less, focused on oaths and honor more than anything else. :DEATH: North War Wind is the master of Death, and he has broader power over it than any other god. Initiates have been known to use the Death Rune to destroy undead, terrify enemies, sense the power of undeath, force the dead into the Underworld, sever souls from bodies, cut through anything, fight with swords, fight from horseback, increase the chance of victory in battle or war, destroy weapons or armor, or kill living things. Those strong in the Death Rune tend to be brave, ruthless, and grim. :TRUTH: North War Wind's power over the Truth Rune extends to honor and oaths, but to little else. Death is true, but not particularly inquisitive. Among other things, initiates have been known to use the Truth Rune to swear and uphold oaths, to sense lies, to detect ambushes, to raise morale among warriors, to sever relationships or familial ties, to fight to the death, or to find traitors. They never gain powers related to knowledge, save for knowledge of undeath and how to defeat it. Those strong in the Truth Rune tend to be honest, loyal, and direct.

Opposed Runes

North War Wind opposes the runes of Illusion and Life.

Particular Likes and Dislikes

North War Wind severed his familial linkage to the Air Gods and the powers of the wind, and his greatest allies do not lie among his former kin. Rather, they are Golden Bow, the Good Death who stands at his right hand, and Basko, the Bad Death who stands at his left hand. No other god truly names North War Wind as friend. He is sworn to serve and obey the rightful khan of the gods, an oath witnessed and accepted by Yu-Kargzant himself, but he is held at a distance.

North War Wind's enemies are more distinct. He fights equally against most enemies of the First Herd, reserving no special hatred even for Chaos. They are merely enemies to be slain. His special hatred is reserved for Unlife, the powers that maintain the body after its soul has departed. He names as his worst enemies Chaos gods such as Vivamort Vampire-King, the necromancers of Castle Orathorn, and demonic forces such as the hated troll god Zorak Zoran, who stole some of the power of the Black Sword, kills blindly and without care, and raises the dead with his demons.

Cult Organization

The cult of North War Wind organizes itself into warrior bands, each led by a priest. While many are members of a tribe, others are independent mercenary groups. The structure of both is the same. Each is independent of the others, so rank within one band does not automatically translate to authority over another, particularly if those bands belong to enemy tribes.

All members of the cult are sworn to obey the orders of those above them in their warband, and those that belong to a tribe also swear to obey their khan. They are severed from the traditional ties of family, and are forbidden to have children or adopt children. Death is not permitted to make life. It is rare for a tribe to possess a large warband, though in areas where the undead are particularly rampant, it has been known to happen.

Mercenary warbands tend to travel widely, selling their services on a major scale. They have been known to show up fighting for clients in Prax, Kralorela, Pelanda, or even as far south as Dragon Pass and the Holy Country. Some go even further. Most organize out of monasteries which, in truth, are more like small forts. These are places of martial training, grim preparation and often no supporting villages, unlike most Pentan monasteries. They support themselves on pilgrims from the tribes and from selling their services as undead-destroyers and mercenaries, instead.

Priests

Priests of the North War Wind are known as Swords. The leader of a warband is the Great Sword, also known as the Warleader. If there are more than ten members of the warband, its hierarchy will require lesser Swords in service as well. The lowest rank of Sword is the Ten Sword, who commands ten members of the cult. Above the Ten Sword is the Hundred Sword, who commands up to ten Ten Swords. Each Hundred Sword (and the Great Sword) will also typically have two bodyguards, known as a Swordman and Shieldman, chosen from the ranks of the cult.

Center of Power and Holy Places

There is no true center of the North War Wind cult, as each warband is independent. However, all revere the secret cave which they claim was the place North War Wind emerged from the Underworld, bearing the Black Sword, Death. Not all agree on where this cave is, and several sites within Pent are claimed to be it, including the Hellcrack. Most North War Wind monasteries are constructed to resemble a cave in design. All battlefields are sacred to the cult, for North War Wind is everywhere there is battle.

The next most important holy site to North War Wind, after the sites that may or may not be the Cave of Death, is the Dead Place, which is where the North War Wind severed his ties to kin. The Dead Place is always guarded by warriors from the monastery established near it, for it is plagued by ice demons formed from the winds that once served North War Wind, before they were taken in by the hated Winter Wind, Valind.

The monasteries serve as home bases for the mercenary warbands, of course, and most are constructed near to areas plagued by undead - an unfortunately common problem in Pent.

Initiates

All initiates of North War Wind must have the Death Rune at 1W or higher and must be sponsored by an existing member of the cult. After proving their combat skills to their local Great Sword, they must then undergo the special cult initiation. Members must uphold any oaths they swear, regardless of circumstance, regardless of who they may be forced to kill. The cult, rare among Pentan cults, does accept non-human members, as well.

All initiates must perform the Severing, as North War Wind did. By doing so, they are legally removed from their family line and may not serve any other god, even if they do not become devotees. During this initiation rite, they wander the Gods World, searching for the Black Sword's power. When they find it, North War Wind blesses them with a gift, but makes them swear a geas, an oath they must uphold in all things.

Members of the cult are legally considered to be dead. They may not inherit property nor own anything but what they can carry, but are unable to be prosecuted for any killing they commit while under orders or when bound by a sworn oath to do so. They must uphold the Oath of War, and if they violate this or any of their other oaths, they will lose all of their magic. Their bodies, after death, cannot be reanimated or made undead, and cannot be resurrected by any means. Conflicts within the cult are generally handled via dueling.

The Code of War which all members of the cult swear to is this:

Always fight other members of the cult fairly.

Honor the fallen.

Always maintain strict truth and confidence.

Typically, this is interpreted to mean that a proper duel can only occur between members of the cult, and a duel challenge from anyone else may be ignored unless they are known to be as honorable as a member of the cult. The terms of a duel are considered to be inviolate once agreed on, and any terms agreed to are acceptable. Anything which is not explicitly ruled out by the terms of a duel is permitted, save for the interference of outside parties. Most warbands forbid duels to the death without permission from the Great Sword or, if they are sworn to a tribe, the khan.

Gifts and Geases

North War Wind is generous with those who swear themselves to him, but his price is dear. His gifts are always specific breakout abilities based on the Death or Truth Rune, and each also comes with a taboo, known as the geas.

Gifts can be very powerful, though they apply only in relatively narrow circumstances. Gifts of North War Wind have included:

The Blade of Pain: While wielding the magic sword gifted to them by North War Wind, all wounds caused by the initiate are terrible and do not heal naturally. The geas is that the initiate may not withdraw or retreat from any conflict.

The Silent Knell of Treachery: The initiate can always sense assassins or traitors to their sworn khan or any other person they are sworn to bodyguard. The geas is that they may not speak, save to make vows or oaths.

Living Vengeance: The initiate names an enemy that has harmed them in the past, such as an enemy tribe, and swears to defeat them utterly. They cannot lose in battle against that enemy. The geas is that they must kill any person that is of their sworn enemy they encounter, without exception, and may not drink alcohol nor eat meat.

Other gifts and geases are of similar power and breadth. The more potent a gift, the more binding the geas.

Holy Days

The cult performs special rituals in the Death Week of each season, as on these days the world is closer to to the Underworld than at other times. These days are chosen to offer sacrifice, swear new oaths and perform Heroquests. Beyond this, however, no day is considered more sacred than any other, for Death is always present in the world.

The exception to this is local - warbands may celebrate the forging day of specific swords which have proven themselves to be holy weapons. All swords are holy to North War Wind, but a sword made with great skill which slays a mighty foe or serves well against undead may be named sacred, given a name and made a part of the local cult's rituals. These swords function as mobile shrines and are deeply coveted by warbands.

Sacrifices

Every tribe offers up worship to North War Wind before going to battle, as do all warrior groups and even bandit gangs, even if none are members of North War Wind's cult. Prayers for victory or to be spared in battle are common, and the rituals of North War Wind are often violent and intimidating, usually involving ritual duels, either wrestling or with weapons. Sacrifices are typically of black animals, and never of plants. Sometimes swords or armor are offered up as well. Very rarely, North War Wind will demand a human life, and this offering must be performed by the priestesses of Gor Gorma, for the Swords are not permitted to choose who should be slain for their god.

Subcults

Eternal Protector (DEATH) The Eternal Protector is the aspect of North War Wind that is sworn to service. When Yu-Kargzant returned to life, the Eternal Protector knelt to him, for Death had been defeated, and swore to defend the innocent, protect the weak and strike against any monster that threatened the First Herd. The followers of the Eternal Protector emulate this aspect to wander the land, defeating evil, slaughtering bandits, and fighting against enemies of the Pentan people. They are able to use the Death Rune to defend others, hunt monsters, and avenge the innocent.

Nergui, the Nameless (DEATH) It is said that the hero who became Nergui, the Nameless, was the sole survivor of a tribe plagued by vampires and undead. She was only a child, and no one was left alive to initiate her in the ways of her people or to ask her what her true name was. Her horse dragged her, barely alive, to the doorstep of one of North War Wind's monasteries. Her life was dedicated to the eradication of the undead, and she ascended to the side of her god slaying the vampire who had led the assaults on her people, a mighty warlord serving the dark god Vivamort. Those who follow Nergui give up their old names to become as the dead, hunting undeath wherever it lurks and destroying it. They are able to use the Death Rune to track undead, destroy the power of Unlife, or sense the presence of undead.

Temur Black Blade (DEATH) Temur Black Blade was a son of the god Tepekos, a craftsman and smith who became enamored with the Black Sword. He sought to recreate it with his hands, for no man nor god had forged the Black Sword. Eventually, he left his kin to swear himself as a follower of Death, that he might achieve a true understanding of the nature of weapons and killing. The swordsmiths of the cult of North War Wind have studied his ways, and while they cannot match the cult of Tepekos for general skill, the power of the swords they make is undeniable, and many legendary blades have emerged from their forges. Followers of Temur Black Blade may use the Death Rune to forge weapons, enchant swords, and repair weapons.

Devotees

Devotees must have the Death Rune at 11W or higher. Because the North War Wind demands all initiates forsake other gods, they are somewhat more common in the cult than in others, for the price is not so dear. However, all devotees are required to accept at least one new gift and geas from the North War Wind.

Common North War Wind Feats

Black Sword Master (DEATH) The North War Wind is the greatest swordsman ever to exist, for he is the Black Sword as much as he is the man and the horse. When he goes into battle, he always strikes true. If he is in a state of purity, any who are struck by his blade die instantly, and even if he is not, they will always die without aid. He can cut anything, and his sword shatters any lesser weapon that it blocks or is blocked by. The Black Sword demands honor, however, and North War Wind is sworn to bodyguard his khan and, should the khan be in danger, the Black Sword Master will die in the khan's place.

Kill Everyone (DEATH) Death cannot be bound. It bows only to the cosmic law of honor. When North War Wind first took up the Black Sword, he set out to travel. To everyone he met, he shouted: "Fear me not, or you fear Life itself!" Everything that feared him, he killed. None was spared - not men, nor trolls, nor dragons, nor Chaos. Nothing could stop him. It was only when he met one who did not fear death - some say it was West King Wind, some Kargzant, some say only Yu-Kargzant was unafraid - that he stopped. Regardless of who it was, North War Wind could only stop when he found someone who loved life and did not fear death.

Lord of Victory (DEATH) Where Pole Star is the mastery of strategy who leads from behind, North War Wind is the master of battle, leading from the fore. When he assembled his Hundred Swords, he led them into battle and could not be defeated. Nothing could defeat him and his forces in battle. However, he spared no foe, took no prisoners, and sacrificed everyone that somehow survived facing him in battle to Death itself. While in this state, he could not become pure, and eventually he was forced to submit to Pole Star's strategic genius when he was left without foes to fight and run ragged by fatigue.

Divine Retribution

Unlike most gods, North War Wind has no servants to punish his followers when they break their oaths. Instead, he deals with them personally. Those who become oathbreakers by violating the Code of War are placed under the Swordbreaker curse. This shatters any sword they hold in their hands.

Those who violate their oaths have their gifts taken from them, losing their power until they atone, though their geases still apply - if anything, more strictly than before. Those who violate a geas lose all magic of Death and Truth completely.

Atonement can only be granted by the god himself, and North War Wind will not be satisfied easily. A Sword can identify through omens and divination what North War Wind desires from a cursed apostate, however.