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Aug. 12th, 2012 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
death_gone_madGoddess.
A pause.
All around her the clatter of weapons fills the cavern. Metal on metal, metal on wood, the twanging of bows, the crackle of magic.
Metal on chitin. The sickening sound of chitin being crushed and torn apart.
Revulsion.
"Eww I got lymph all over mys-"
There is silence as the scabarites cease fighting eachother, as if expecting something to happen. When nothing does, their eyes (and there are many eyes) turn to toward the red-shelled human sized female beetle standing on her two hind legs on a high place at the back of the cave.
Goddess?
"Sorry, I was receiving a vision. Why have you stopped? Why are you looking at me for?"
The eyes of several of the yellow shelled insectoid scabarites betray the location of an injured comrade.
The red beetle stares. "These sorts of things happen in real combat; I won't always be there to clean up the dead bodies for you."
Flames engulf the injured scabarite and a pained squeal escapes the burning body.
Oops, not dead. Oh well, it would have been cruel to leave it injured like that. What kind of life is there for a lame soldier? "None of you would had noticed if someone had been able to handle a little gore. Who was it? Who's not ready to fight?"
Several of the scabarites standing around the ash pile that was formerly their comrade now had baked on grey ichor staining their chitin. They were all hiding their disgust well, but none looked particularly guilty. None were about to point a claw at eachother, either.
"Fine. Practice is over, go purify yourselves. But know this - In order to purify the world of the various plagues that overrun it, it will be inevitable that their filth will stain our shells, and maybe our very souls. But we do this for inner peace. Eternal inner peace. Hiding from the world and from ourselves will no longer suffice, for plague spreads, and will spread until there is no solitary place left. There will be no unfilthy place; not even our innermost souls shall be unstained."
The scabarites scurry away to their individual quarters (yes, every damn one of them has to have their own damn room, ugh) to bathe and bathe and bathe and bathe and meditate on the day's occurrences. One will count his blessings later after not being incinerated for murmuring "Oh Lord Scabaras, why not fumigate the world and be done with it?"
The Mistress must have been distracted to not notice that.
After she's alone on her own room, the red beetle shifts her shape to her true form. A truer form, anyhow. The Fallen Goddess made flesh, trapped in an immortal human prison. She slips on a dress and retrieves a ghostly blue gem from her dresser. With a tap, the gem starts emitting light and an image of a human head is projected onto...... the air itself, it seems.
"Ah, it is you. You... It's not snowing where you are?"
"No, My Lady."
"Then why are you contacting me if you aren't anywhere near the Ritual Site?"
"I was, but the place was being regularly patrolled by Zemouregal's goons. I could not gather much information beyond what you had already told me about it, except for one interesting bit of information that lead me all the way east to the ocean. Well, almost."
"I would have incinerated you from here for cowardice if I did not know you better. You can avoid patrolling emptybrains easily. Out with it."
The image that the gem projects shifts, revealing a barren, rock, windblown terrain. Off in the distance are the ruins of a fortress. "Someone has been carrying off pieces of the Ritual Marker. The one at the Ritual Site isn't the original, but for bits and pieces."
"That's an old dragonkin fortification..."
"What? My Goddess, why did you not tell me this was here? Dragonkin? They are all but extinct, aren't they?"
"Why are you showing me this?"
"My Lady, whoever is carrying off the Ritual Marker, their trail ends up there. Where I am standing there is no snow, but fresh snow blankets the area near the fortress every day. The trail was hard enough to follow through the wilderness."
"... Have you been able to find why it snows there?"
"I have wandered closer, but it has been difficult to do so without leaving tracks of my own. I haven't found any of the the Ritual Marker or anything that would produce such unnatural cold."
"Why are you worried about leaving tracks?"
"There are odd people wandering the wilderness, some even managed to follow me but they were caught and carried off by the patrols here. There must be some structure underground; there is someone new patrolling everyday. And those that come up to patrol are careful about it, as if they don't want to be seen."
"Who is patrolling?"
"Humans from what I can tell, under the command of someone called Bill."
"Humans?" She thinks. Why would a group of humans take over a derelict fortress in the wilderness and why would they do that to the Ritual Marker? Are they trying to prevent the next Rejuvenation Ritual? It won't work, it only serves as a...
"Well trained, well armored humans."
Bill. She chuckles. So, she has found his hidey hole. "I want you to stay up there, but try not to be caught."
"I am honored that my life continues serve My Goddesses purposes. I shall lead more wanderers to the fortress so the patrols may speed their souls to you in my stead."
"NO! There is likely a necromancer present! If anyone discovers you, kill them yourself and dispose of the body far from that place. You are to not do me the dishonor of being taken into such a place or leading anyone else in there. You are mine and no one else's!"
"YES MY GODDESS!"
[Continue to the Demon Halls.]
A pause.
All around her the clatter of weapons fills the cavern. Metal on metal, metal on wood, the twanging of bows, the crackle of magic.
Metal on chitin. The sickening sound of chitin being crushed and torn apart.
Revulsion.
"Eww I got lymph all over mys-"
There is silence as the scabarites cease fighting eachother, as if expecting something to happen. When nothing does, their eyes (and there are many eyes) turn to toward the red-shelled human sized female beetle standing on her two hind legs on a high place at the back of the cave.
Goddess?
"Sorry, I was receiving a vision. Why have you stopped? Why are you looking at me for?"
The eyes of several of the yellow shelled insectoid scabarites betray the location of an injured comrade.
The red beetle stares. "These sorts of things happen in real combat; I won't always be there to clean up the dead bodies for you."
Flames engulf the injured scabarite and a pained squeal escapes the burning body.
Oops, not dead. Oh well, it would have been cruel to leave it injured like that. What kind of life is there for a lame soldier? "None of you would had noticed if someone had been able to handle a little gore. Who was it? Who's not ready to fight?"
Several of the scabarites standing around the ash pile that was formerly their comrade now had baked on grey ichor staining their chitin. They were all hiding their disgust well, but none looked particularly guilty. None were about to point a claw at eachother, either.
"Fine. Practice is over, go purify yourselves. But know this - In order to purify the world of the various plagues that overrun it, it will be inevitable that their filth will stain our shells, and maybe our very souls. But we do this for inner peace. Eternal inner peace. Hiding from the world and from ourselves will no longer suffice, for plague spreads, and will spread until there is no solitary place left. There will be no unfilthy place; not even our innermost souls shall be unstained."
The scabarites scurry away to their individual quarters (yes, every damn one of them has to have their own damn room, ugh) to bathe and bathe and bathe and bathe and meditate on the day's occurrences. One will count his blessings later after not being incinerated for murmuring "Oh Lord Scabaras, why not fumigate the world and be done with it?"
The Mistress must have been distracted to not notice that.
After she's alone on her own room, the red beetle shifts her shape to her true form. A truer form, anyhow. The Fallen Goddess made flesh, trapped in an immortal human prison. She slips on a dress and retrieves a ghostly blue gem from her dresser. With a tap, the gem starts emitting light and an image of a human head is projected onto...... the air itself, it seems.
"Ah, it is you. You... It's not snowing where you are?"
"No, My Lady."
"Then why are you contacting me if you aren't anywhere near the Ritual Site?"
"I was, but the place was being regularly patrolled by Zemouregal's goons. I could not gather much information beyond what you had already told me about it, except for one interesting bit of information that lead me all the way east to the ocean. Well, almost."
"I would have incinerated you from here for cowardice if I did not know you better. You can avoid patrolling emptybrains easily. Out with it."
The image that the gem projects shifts, revealing a barren, rock, windblown terrain. Off in the distance are the ruins of a fortress. "Someone has been carrying off pieces of the Ritual Marker. The one at the Ritual Site isn't the original, but for bits and pieces."
"That's an old dragonkin fortification..."
"What? My Goddess, why did you not tell me this was here? Dragonkin? They are all but extinct, aren't they?"
"Why are you showing me this?"
"My Lady, whoever is carrying off the Ritual Marker, their trail ends up there. Where I am standing there is no snow, but fresh snow blankets the area near the fortress every day. The trail was hard enough to follow through the wilderness."
"... Have you been able to find why it snows there?"
"I have wandered closer, but it has been difficult to do so without leaving tracks of my own. I haven't found any of the the Ritual Marker or anything that would produce such unnatural cold."
"Why are you worried about leaving tracks?"
"There are odd people wandering the wilderness, some even managed to follow me but they were caught and carried off by the patrols here. There must be some structure underground; there is someone new patrolling everyday. And those that come up to patrol are careful about it, as if they don't want to be seen."
"Who is patrolling?"
"Humans from what I can tell, under the command of someone called Bill."
"Humans?" She thinks. Why would a group of humans take over a derelict fortress in the wilderness and why would they do that to the Ritual Marker? Are they trying to prevent the next Rejuvenation Ritual? It won't work, it only serves as a...
"Well trained, well armored humans."
Bill. She chuckles. So, she has found his hidey hole. "I want you to stay up there, but try not to be caught."
"I am honored that my life continues serve My Goddesses purposes. I shall lead more wanderers to the fortress so the patrols may speed their souls to you in my stead."
"NO! There is likely a necromancer present! If anyone discovers you, kill them yourself and dispose of the body far from that place. You are to not do me the dishonor of being taken into such a place or leading anyone else in there. You are mine and no one else's!"
"YES MY GODDESS!"
[Continue to the Demon Halls.]