[Global] End Game.

1st of Cylus 718

Here are all threads from before the Fall of Emea in 719 and all threads pertaining to the Fall. As of Ymiden 719 (1st June 2019), this forum is locked for new threads and is a repository for old content.

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Tio Silver
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[Global] End Game.

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Sorry for the wait fellow competitors. Due to the nature of my post I was asked to hold it back until all three of you had gone.

I hope you'll agree that the wait was worth it though...


As his blood dropped to the floor that strange power, so like necromancy and yet so entirely different, kicked in again with a strength far beyond anything Tio had seen so far. If that last spell with Delroth's charm had been a strong wind this was a thunderstorm, and the yludih could feel half of the life left in him being ripped out of his very bones and absorbed into the ashen form of Avacer. It was as alarming as it was utterly incredible to behold! The very flesh meant for him to wear in his future, the body he was set to inherit as the arcs ticked on for him, was being clawed away, broken down and used to give new form to the once faded skeleton! The magician in him would have had a field day trying to understand how it worked, if not for the guttural dread that sat in his stomach like a stone. Those were his precious years bleeding away, the life he had invested into his lifelong gamble to reach immortality, and if that gamble didn't pay off he'd never get them back. Would he be a decrepit old man before he reached fifty? Or would he simply drop dead in the streets like an acrobat with their tightrope cut? Already he could feel a twinge of weariness no young man should feel in his step.

But despite the terrible price he'd paid Tio pushed any thoughts of regret out of his mind, focusing himself instead on the road ahead of him. Avacer was right, this sacrifice would make him stronger in the long run. And with the muscle-bound magician accepting his offer at least he wouldn't be making that long run alone.

At least that was what he thought for the span of twenty trills, until the sound of stone feet pounding against the dusty ground caught his attention. A set of golems, built from sleek black stone and carved into intricately human-like figures, melded their way from out of a nearby pillar and marched towards them. As Tio raised his cutlass in a fighting stance a voice like a grinding whetstone reverberated in his head. According to the golems Arlo had chosen to play the sacrifice game for himself by choosing to have Tio take his place on the throne of Gilgarod, and subsequently have the life drained out of him and fed to his subjects.

"Arlo ordered this?! That treacherous son of a..." he began, his eyes flashing a flaming amber as the mark of Syroa reacted to his fury. That backstabber! He knew that hat-wearing snake worshipped Cassion, but he hadn't expected him to go so far as to orchestrate people's deaths in order to impress him! Well fine! If it was a fight these stony fod-sacks wanted it was a fight they would get!

He levelled his sword, ready to fight, but halted as Avacer stepped forward and spat on one of the golems, declaring that as he now held half of Tio's life he would take his place upon the throne. The golems accepted his decision, and as they came to take him away Avacer clasped a hand on his shoulder and whispered to him the secret that he needed.

"I'll not forget this sacrifice you've made for me Avacer." Tio whispered solemnly, staring into his eyes with a steely gaze and nodding gravely. "I will come back for you. I will free you. And we will finish what we've started!"

The staircase that the skeleton key had directed him to led him up into a void of near utter darkness, but it wasn't long before light began to trickle into his vision. At the end of the staircase was the foyer from earlier, and as he stepped out into the light Tio noted that the other three contestants had all come out of different shaped exits at nearly exactly the same time as him. While all of them had survived, Tio was quick to note that only he and Arlo had been successful in securing a box. Did that mean only he and Arlo would take part in the last round? A brief lance of fury shot through his body as Tio caught sight of Arlo, smiling merrily as if he hadn't attempted to murder him, but he quashed the rage down behind a look of sly satisfaction the moment it came. Arlo would pay for his betrayal, but not yet. He couldn't allow his emotions to hinder his plan.

Cassion explained the final step of the challenge, and subconsciously Tio's hands gripped tighter and tighter on the box until his knuckles turned white. Everything was going as Avacer had said it would! Any moment now the time would be upon him to act! The others began to explain what they believed Cassion's prize to be, yet although they stood right next to him to Tio their voices sounded distorted and distant, as if underwater. His attention was focused within, desperately trying to sort out and squash down the tempest of myriad emotions that had sprung up to play havoc on his nerves! Damn it, he couldn't afford to loose focus now! What was wrong with him?

Doubt. I'm feeling doubt! He realized with a sudden clarity. No matter how unusual the circumstances, the fact was that he was preparing himself to do something he had always believed to be an act of true evil, something he had made a point of avoiding no matter how deep into the criminal underworld he sank. And why was it that he was committing himself to go through with his horrible deed? There were a million justifications he could make to himself that he knew his mind could genuinely trick itself into believing to avoid guilt. He could claim he was doing this for the sake of justice; to help free the world from the tyranny of the Immortals and give power to the races just like so many of the anti-Immortal believers did. He could claim he was seeking fair revenge, to pay Cassion back for manipulating him and all the other contestants into risking their lives in this contest so that he could avoid going into Gilgarod himself. He could even claim to do this for honour, to fulfil the bargain he'd made with Avacer. But in truth he knew that he didn't to this for any such noble reason.

He did this for greed.

Delroth couldn't have chosen a better person to represent him in this contest. It took a special kind of scum to undertake such a task for the sake of avarice, and if he went thorough with this Tio knew that he would always feel like that kind of rotten scum until the day he died. But despite knowing what kind of a deplorable person it would make him he still could not resist the lust for power in his heart. He was tired of being trapped in his mortality! Tired of looking in the mirror and seeing a face that wasn't his stare back at him! He wanted to be more than any yludih had ever been before! Perhaps even surpass the boundary of race entirely! Was it so wrong of him to crave the strength to rise above the station in life he'd been born into? No, it was not!

He gathered whatever determination he could muster as the other contenders finished speaking. It was not the steely determination of a courageous man staring danger in the face, but more akin to the rushed, panicked resolve of prey that'd been cornered by a hunter. His heart was pounding in his mouth, his throat was dry, and all the world seemed out of focus as Cassion's gaze finally turned on him. The time had come; it was now or never!

"What I bring you is a weapon; a blade wielded only by those who have sacrificed." He turned the skeleton key in the lock, jumping slightly as he heard the mechanism click open. "Long ago the king of a world long forgotten to us perished, and all his princes tore their kingdom apart trying to claim the throne for themselves. The people cried out for them to end their feud and stop ravaging the lands, but the heirs would not listen. Consumed by desperation, the citizens came together and decided that the only way they could save themselves was to create a weapon that could rival the prince's powers, that could remind them to fear those below them. But such a weapon could not be made with weak materials, and so each person sacrificed something precious to them, something that forevermore would leave their lives empty and gray, in order to give this weapon strength. Some gave honour, some pride, some love, and some even their lives. But it was worth it, for their hardships had forged for them a blade unlike any other."

He put his hands on the lid of the box, slowly prizing it open. "What they had made was a sword that separated names from names, a killing blade! And its name was Epilogue: the hateful thing that schisms all domains!"

As he spoke those final lines Tio flipped the box open and, in one fluid motion, drew the sword from within it and plunged it straight into Cassion's heart.[/color]
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Arlo, first to speak. The storyteller embellished, savored his words as he spoke them. Of the other contestants, his was the mantle of storytelling passed from tavern-whispered secret to bawdy sojourn on the open road. When Arlo spoke it was impossible not to listen, to angle ones ears to the words. Cassion, intimidating giant baptized in dust, nodded along to the tale with a smile barely contained across his broad face. When Arlo had finished and handed the staff to him, the god took it and ran his hands along its length. The Staff of Telling did not move, but it glistened with a simple inner light that stretched the length of weathered wood from butt to tip as the Immortal turned it over in his palms. Arlo had come far from the adventurer slipping from city to city collecting tales and experiences like souvenirs. Now he held something with a bit more punch, something with a weight to it. His own story had merit, not that it hadn't before, but emphasized by the places he had gone and the things he had seen. Gilgarod, the hungry realm of lessons, a telltale warning against ambition, it was another feather in his cap to be plucked and offered at any shadow-soaked tavern table or lonely, rolling deck.

The staff turned on his hands and then vanished, as though it had simply slipped between the air and into a realm beyond. Chuckling, the storyteller god clapped Arlo on the shoulder with enough force to almost send the adventurer stumbling. "Aye, Lad, Well Told." Turning his gaze out to the others the traveler god winked. "You Are All Victors In My Eyes, But Only One May Succeed This Trial. The Patron To Benefit Will Be Informed At The End Of These Things, And Their Champion...Well..." Cassion shrugged, "I Will Leave It To Their Patron To Inform Them Of Their Failure Or Success...As Is Their Pleasure."

Arlo nodded and stepped back, allowing Vivian to clear her throat and begin. Her story was not so powerful, rippling with well chosen words and the flow of narrative mastery Arlo seemed to so easily grasp. Vivian spoke shortly and clearly, laying out the facts and her vulnerabilities with solemn precision. The sword she held danced in the torchlight of Cassion's hall. None of her competitors had seen a sword of its like before. How easily it fit her, how perfect it whispered in the air. When she had finished, Cassion was already nodding. "Favored By Brunvalle, ForgeMaster Of Gilgarod. He Has Seen Smiths Of Countless Kingdoms Hammer Their Ambitions Into Steel And Stone. For Him To Recognize You? Ah, I Hunger For The Taste Of The Tales You Will Write With That Steel."

He beckoned to her and Vivian stepped around the table hesitantly, already lifting the sword to present for inspection. But Cassion did not take the sword, instead grabbing her forearm and pulling her close. He brushed where the key had melted into her arm and although Vivian instinctively drew back, the god was much more powerful than her mortal muscles could strive against. "SteelBlooded." Cassion told her grimly, "Another Blessing From the ForgeMaster, I Think. Ambitious To Believe He Could Forge A Living Art." One long index finger tapped the burn on her wrist. "Yours Is Not A House That Is Made Through Marriage, But Through Promise And Sacrifice." His other hand held a knife that none had seen him draw before. Placing it against the mark he pressed in slightly, enough to nick the skin. The blood that pooled there was red and dark, but glistened with a metallic gleam. "Those Who Share Their Blood Will Share Your House. But You May Only Adopt These Wayward Kin Into A Family Worth The Price Of Battle. For Each True Enemy Of Your House That You Best, No Mere Cur Or Brigand, But True Foe, One More Kin May Be Named To Shiryu. Take Your Prologue And Create For Me An Epilogue Worthy Of It." Pushing her arm back, Cassion released her and Vivian stumbled back. Bringing her sword in close she nodded and stepped away, allowing Nauta his chance to speak.

The Aukari stumbled through his story, broken common clumsily vying against words of his unfamiliar tongue. Still, the spy spoke them as well as he could. Much of the context was lost in translation, but Cassion seemed to follow without difficulty. Several times he even leaned in, nodding along as Nauta struggled to express the dangers he had faced in PrisonKeep and how he had managed to escape. When his hands flew together, miming wings, Cassion laughed once, a bark of laughter that was surprised amusement. Finally, as Nauta presented the coin out to him, the god reached out and plucked it from his palm. Up and over the coin went, dancing between knuckles as the storyteller considered it. For a small while he did not speak, enough time to prompt Tio to clear his throat but it was silenced with a palm out signal from Cassion.

Finally, he spoke.

"Emberling. Your People Were Called Emberlings Once, The Vain Shadow Of Sparks From Faldrun's Own Ruinous Pride. Aukari. You Chose The Name For Yourselves...A Surprising Step For Supposed Sycophants Of Your Forefather." Nauta could feel his grandfather roil within him, stung by the words but too cunning to make it known. A shade of discomfort easily swallowed on Nauta's calculating face. "You Are More Than Faldrun Made You To Be. You Know This, You Champion This, And Perhaps You Will Live to See Its End If You Learn The Value Of Companionship." Cassion held up the coin and flipped it, the trinket vanishing the same way as the staff. "I Accept Your Story And Your Offering. I Have Seen You, Nauta. I Do Not Often Lose What My Eyes Have Seen. Show Me, With This New Knowledge, What You Will Do To Change Our World In This Time Of Prophecy." He takes a breath, draws the blade of the knife in his other hand across his stubble and grins. "A Word Of Prophecy For You, Courtesy Of My Kin. When Flames Burn Cold And Greatest Traitor Becomes Savior, Even The Sun May Be Blinded For A Crucial Moment."

He repeated it again in Nauta's native tongue carefully watching the spy ingest and consider the words. Finally, Tio spoke, clutching the box as though it were a precious metal. His story was like Arlo's, starting at a beginning none could see and that stretched beyond the scope of their challenge, their task. Cassion listened raptly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Vivian watched suspiciously, her eyes on the way Tio moved, how he held himself. She couldn't rectify why his muscles seemed to coil, why his body was poised and his feet slid across the floor looking for the best purchase. If she had been pressed to explain, she might have suggested Tio was preparing to attack...but who in their right minds would attack a god?

The thought had honestly not crossed her mind before, there in the presence of the ForgeMaster it had never seemed prudent to simply attack the thing. Dreams were wove of symbols and metaphor, and any child could tell you that. What danger could there be in a phantasm such as this? Still, something within her quivered as Tio continued his tale and the sword in her hand grew cold, as though in dull warning.

As Tio named the weapon, drawing it from the black, bone-dusted box he had wrested from the tombs of Gilgarod, the torchlight guttered suddenly. Around them, wild silhouettes and half-shapes were flung across the wall and the table. Tio felt the blade, poisonous treason in his hand, press through the chest of Cassion in his chair and slide so far as to embed within the back of the chair behind it. Pain, sudden and agonizing in the dark before the torches caught on some signal and flared bright again, flooding the chamber with light.

Tio reeled away, loosing his grip on the blade and drawing a hand to his face where a long, wicked mouth of red wound had opened. Cassion had leaned forward in the moment of Tio's thrust and slashed the dagger in his hand across the shapeshifter's visage. Had he leaned any farther, the wound may have been fatal, but instead it had simply neatly crossed from his forehead, through his right eye, and on across his cheek. Agony was instant and Tio hissed as illusory blood sprang between his fingers. The Yludih had no blood to spare, of course, but in cruel jest, Aelig's magic made it feel real even to the victim as it wet his hand with warm, pulsing viscera.

"Crafty Mortal," Cassion growled, the knife clattering from his hand as he tried to pull the blade from his own chest, "Wound Me With A Story? Ah, The Balls On You!" No sooner had Cassion's hand settled around the handle of Epilogue did it burst into brilliant shards of colored light and energy. The hand around the blade now was no longer the thick grip of the storyteller god but a smaller, lither hand, delicate and feminine. Cassion blinked, seeming almost surprised as bright scars cracked across his skin from Epilogue and his damaged arm. He turned, once, looking toward a wide-eyed Arlo and shrugging as best he could while nailed to his seat. "Not The End I Had In Mind," the god admitted hoarsely, "But..." And a wide, toothy grin stretched across his shattering face, "Ah The Pluck You Mortals Have!"

And Cassion burst, his image dancing away into splinters of color and many-voiced whispers all proclaiming at once, garbled in unison, then silence.

Left behind, bright silver blood ran grey-glimmer down the woman's chest. She was middle aged, with black hair mottled with strands of white and grey. Seashells bound up and tied, dangling and chiming gently against her weak struggles. She wore the garb of a sailor, loose and marked with the passage of sea-salt and many suns. She was pretty, a rugged sort of beauty that emanated from her sea-blue eyes and across a face scarred with adventures untold and yet somehow still compelling, attractive. She lifted the hand around the blade slowly to her blood-glistening lips and looked at the silver that came away with it. Tears stung the corner of her eyes and her smile was soft and relieved.

"I am." She said, whispering, "I am me. No more the god, no more the traveler. Me. Me. Me." Lifting her face up toward the endless ceiling of the feasting room she called his name. "Cassion." Then again, louder. "Cassion! I am going on ahead now. This is enough, isn't it? Surely this is enough." Weakness drew her head down to lull and her words tumbled out over her lips thickly, "Do not hate me, Cassion, my love. I cannot take you where I am going." Turning her head up, the effort shaking her body, she fixed Arlo with surprisingly clear and tranquil eyes.

"Will you be him next, I wonder? Treasure your road for now, while it is still your own."

And then she fell limp, clear blue eyes staring out into nowhere, into nothing.

Tio's hisses of pain the only sound among the crackling of the flames.

 ! Message from: Plague
Alright all, thanks so much for this! I enjoyed the adventure and hope you all equally had a good time. For one of you, Tio, feel free to PM me about the eye. I figured since Yludih are shapeshifters, you could make it appear as undamaged as you'd like...and we have a plot for that eye anyways. If I need to adjust anything, please let me know. I opted not to write in too many actions for this scene save what you've done and I hope you enjoyed the little twist Tio and I planned out for the ending. It was great writing with you all and I hope I get a chance to do so again!
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[Global] End Game.

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2nd Cylus 718
There are moments in life which define you. Those moments will resonate in the narrative of your story for the rest of your life, they will be what you remember when you have forgotten your name and what your dreams whisper to you as Vri's touch forces the final breath from you. For some, very few, but some, there will be moments like that.

And then, there will be Moments Like This.

Undefined. Unable to be defined. The merest blink of an eye which resonated through a hundred lifetimes and changed Everything Yet To Come. Those Moments, they were not of narrative and story, they were far far beyond such mortal terms. And in this place, in this Moment, everything changed.

It was not just the Moment where The Blow was struck, though. No. They watched, the Immortals involved in this and their interests were as many and varied as them. Jesine, who had been the Guide, watched each of them avidly. She was joined by the Immortals who had laid a claim in this Gambit, in Cassion's Game. None of them knew what the Storyteller did, or why he did it, but all of them who watched had decided that they would rather be on the inside looking out, than the outside looking in. Had it been the right choice? Fortune, fate and the bitch of luck might whisper one thing to them, but each agreed that yes. Better to be part of it.

When Arlo spoke, U'frek could not resist the grin which crossed his face. Delroth's sneer was apparent. "How do you expect a Sojourner to do?" Vanity spat and U'frek chuckled. "Against the rules was it? No. Not at all. You're just irritated that you didn't think of it." Delroth tossed his hair slightly, an air of knowing something U'frek didn't clear on his countenance. It unnerved U'frek, in truth. He didn't trust the slippery bastard.

But then, it had been a damn fine story.

Yet they all breathed in at Vivian's sword. It was a thing of beauty, there was no doubt. But it was more than that. It was an item of import and when Cassion declared her Steel Blooded, Ilaren smiled but said nothing. There was no need to gloat, but it was obvious to all concerned that Vivian had more than carried herself well. Ziell, standing quietly and watching, whispered in a voice which resonated with Prophecy. "And so begins the House of Shiryu. Long may She Reign.". No one asked but Jesine glanced at the Winter Lord who smiled and said no more.

Though, his touch could be heard in Cassion's voice in the Adventurer's next words to the Aukari. Faldrun seemed far, far from pleased and yet, he said nothing here. Nothing which would tell of the fury and rage, yet all here knew. They could not see him, for he was not where they were, but still he watched and he knew. As the coin flipped in the air, a low rumble shook and yet, Edasha smiled in pleasure and turned gloating eyes to her brother. The gathered Immortals felt the rumble and Ziell gave a low chuckle. U'frek looked at him and Ziell smiled. "Congratulations," the Lord of Prophecy said, "yours won. You have Cassion's favour."

And then, there was Delroth's chosen.

Tio spake his tale and he took his weapon and plunged it, tearing the heart of the Immortal in twain. Yet, even as he did - and everyone save Cassion and Tio found themselves unable to move - Cassion struck back. Every Immortal who watched gasped in, sucking in breath they did not need to breathe in shock.

Except, of course, for Delroth. His wings lifted and his smile widened.
Plague wrote:And Cassion burst, his image dancing away into splinters of color and many-voiced whispers all proclaiming at once, garbled in unison, then silence.


In the place where the Immortals watched, there was silence. Any of them inclined to violence would find themselves unable to move as an aura of Peace itself, courtesy the Immortal of it, washed over them. No violence here, for there would be Ripples, and deaths would be more difficult. The woman spoke, and Arlo found himself able to answer her, to speak to her. To interact with her. The biqaj woman who had once been but a humble follower of the Immortal and who had become So Much More spilled silver blood and clear tears in that place between the worlds.

And in that Moment?

In That Moment, Everything Changed.

Ripples floated out to the waking world and, while they settled the mortals here would not remember. Not know what had happened. And then, on the 1st Ymiden 718, on the Dawn of the season named after the Immortal of Rebirth, they all knew. What they had done, gained and lost. Who they were and what they had seen.

In a very real sense, on the 1st Ymiden 718, it began.
 ! Message from: Pegasus
Oh. Em. Gee. You guys ROCK and you did it. Well done!
You have the opportunity for one more post. It will make no difference to who wins or other outcomes like that, but it might have an impact on your rewards / knowledge etc.
The results are as follows:
The winner as decided by Plague is Arlo. Consequence in the review (follow up thread available)
Tio has killed one of Cassion's Eagles. This will have a Major Consequence for Tio in the review. (follow up thread already arranged!)
Nauta has made a very significant decision, and has a place in Prophecy. "When Flames Burn Cold And Greatest Traitor Becomes Savior, Even The Sun May Be Blinded For A Crucial Moment" (follow up thread available)
Vivian has become SteelBlood and this will be the start of a new House / Bloodline (follow up thread available) Whether you post or not, I will post the review on or before Thursday 31st May, 2018. I'm going to do this because you need to have that review in order to be able to start the new season with the memories etc. If you want to - please pm the knowledges you wish for this threads. They should be in line with the number of posts you have made as per the "request your own" rules. If, however, you are happy for me to review the thread on your behalf, you might get more knowledge, but they won't necessarily be the ones you wanted. This is a seven page thread - I'm doing one or the other. If you want specific knowledge, pm me, they're what you're getting. If you don't mind, I'll review it with what I see and if I miss something, tis what tis. Thanks

Thank you to Plague for his portrayal of Cassion and a repeated thanks to Whisper, Maltruism and Muse for the other Immortals.
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One of these trial Arlo would be better prepared for that slap to the back or shoulder and it wouldn't send him back on his heels or forward onto his toes as a result. On the other hand, maybe he'd choose to play at being caught unaware. Cassion seemed to enjoy the response as much as he did anything else. Nonetheless, he dipped his head and smiled in response to the Immortal's appreciation for his tale, and sat back to hear as the others stepped up. No matter the content or style, t was Arlo's nature. Who he was. In his opinion most any story told was better than no story at all. He appreciated them all to one extent or another.

When Tio began his tale, at first Arlo thought nothing of it. But as the other man went on, a deep and curious frown settled into his features. There was something there. Something bothersome and later he'd curse himself for not realizing it till it was too late. If even he could have. But if he had, he'd have attempted to intervene, even if it put him in the direct path of the blade instead of Cassion. He'd have made the sacrifice without a thought. And at the middle or the end he still would have leaped forward, except by then he couldn't. He could only watch the scene play out with horror and something akin to rage.

Cassion was quick and dealt a debilitating blow but it hadn't been quick enough and still he could only watch, fixed in place by something or other. He couldn't even speak or ask why, though why didn't really matter. He was confounded by the transformation, the silver blood, the woman pinned to her chair and looking back at him. Arlo was marked by Cassion himself, and yet the nature of it was only revealed as it happened. As for what the future held, the whys, the hows, he only knew what he knew when he knew it. She was Cassion and yet she wasn't. And would he be him next? That too confounded him, and yet intuitively he thought he understood.

It was just as well he was fixed in place. Unable to speak or act. Mostly act. Tio had been wounded in such a way that he was as vulnerable as he might ever be in that instant. The transformation he'd just witnessed was one thing, but the intent of the other man remained the same. And that was the part that mattered. The inability to do anything more than watch, no matter who was responsible, was probably in keeping with a want for the lack of violence or killing in this place...even if the other party deserved it in spades.

Wasn't it even Cassion's own wish? He'd told Arlo that once before after all. Arlo respected that, and in general he wasn't the violent sort. On the other hand, at the end of the trial he was human, and he vowed it would never be forgotten or laid to rest. Ironically it would be forgotten shortly. Completely. Only to be remembered much later. Which, at the end of the trial was just as well. Once regained, Arlo's memory was long and there were some things that just wouldn't stand. And in a sense, maybe it was for the best. It went along with his generally non-violent nature. He wasn't the type to run a man through when he wasn't looking. It just wasn't sporting. And besides, for this? When the time came, whatever it turned out to be, he'd rather the man saw it coming and remember why.
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A flash of immense pain flared across his face, and for a moment Tio, so focused as it was on dealing the death blow to Cassion, failed to register what exactly had happened. For less than a trill pure light spilled forth from the wound as his unconscious mind failed to kick his natural illusion into action. Then all at once reality came crashing back down upon him, and Tio streamed in pain and fell backwards to the floor, clutching at his now missing eye as false blood was instantly conjured into reality around it. His eye! He couldn't see anything out of his right eye! It had been carved out, replaced with a burning agony more painful than any wound he'd ever felt before! If he rushed to a doctor would they be able to fix it, or would he never be able to see out of it again?! Tio had felt dread before, but the sheer density of the black despair that clung to his heart now was of a completely different nature. He'd had possessions broken or feeling hurt before, but to have a part of his body taken away from him! It was a whole new kind of terror altogether!

With his one good eye he looked up, prepared to glare daggers at Cassion, but froze in shock at the sight before him. From where Epilogue touched him cracks formed across Cassion's body, splintering away to reveal the form of a woman beneath it. Strangely enough with his last few moments Cassion grinned, looking strangely accepting of the outcome, and then burst into a brilliant array of vibrant colours and voices that seemed to echo out like a shockwave. And sitting in Cassion's place...

Had Tio any blood, it surely would have turned cold at the sight that lay before him. A biqaj woman sat there, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she stared at the silver blood on her hand; blood that'd come from the wound where Epilogue... no, where he had stabbed her! No, this couldn't be right! This wasn't what he had wanted! Cassion had been the target! Cassion was the one Avacer had said needed to die in order for him to be free! So why... why was this unknown, innocent woman sitting in his place?! Why had the blade meant to end the road god's life taken her's instead?!

Why had he taken an innocent person's life?!

"I... I..." I'm sorry, he tried to say to her, but in the shock his throat wouldn't obey him. All he could manage to do was croak out the beginning too quietly for anyone else to hear and stare in horror. He watched numbly as she spoke, softly calling out to Cassion in the tone of a lover, and then looking at Arlo and using her last breath to whisper to him a final warning before the light in her eyes faded into nothing.

He had killer her.

He was a murderer.

A Murderer.


Death was no stranger to Tio. He'd seen it a number of times now, played around with it using his spark, and even held a woman in his arms as she died once. But never had he been the cause of it before. He couldn't stand, couldn't stop his hands from shaking, couldn't do anything but mutely lie there and watch as the sight of silver blood pooling up around the floor burnt itself into his memory forevermore. Why had it turned out like this? This wasn't what he wanted... so why?

It was then that the meaning of her parting words to Arlo truly sank in.

She hadn't just appeared out of thin air, she'd been Cassion all along! He'd been possessing her, wearing a living person like some cheap two-piece suit for god knows how many arcs! That was how they lived forever! That was the great secret behind the Immortal's eternal life! Their marks were tools used to prepare people to be their vessels, and when it became convenient for them to take mortal form they just hopped right into their follower's flesh and took control, leaving the real owner a prisoner in their own mind?! That was... monstrous!

The mark of Syroa on his back heated up in response to the anger setting alight inside him, painting the blue of his eyes with a intense amber light, and for the first time Tio felt fear towards the normally euphoric power. Could the same thing happen to him? Could Syroa just waltz into his body and take over whenever she felt like it?! By the spirits his mother was one of her most devoted followers, could it happen to her?! He had to get this mark off! He had to let people know what the beings they looked to for protection were really like!

He had to fight the Immortals!

Emea seemed to be collapsing, the dream and this whole contest having finally reached its dark ending, and with it Tio found his consciousness slipping away as he began to wake up. He did not know it, but he would not truly wake up from this dream until the stroke of midnight on the first day of Ymiden. All the things he'd gain, lost and learned, the shame of taking a life and a newfound hatred towards the Immortals, would all return to him in a flash at the same moment his eye was suddenly carved out of reality. But when he woke up Tio would be a very different man.

And he'd have work to do.
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word count: 957
Fast Facts
Noticeable quirks your character can see when threading with Tio.

Floats

Tio floats in the air, usually just a foot off the ground.

Explodeibur

Tio wears a scary looking gauntlet on his right hand that is clearly magical. It creates explosions.

Mercury

Tio has a masked alter ego who leads The Court of Miracles.

Enchanting Voice

Tio's voice has hypnotic properties.
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Vivian Shiryu
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Vivian approached Cassion at his gesture, listened as he explained the nature of the Forgemaster's gift, grimacing as he pricked her arm to draw blood. But the name, Brunvalle, she committed it to memory. She owed the Forgemaster for his gift and she would have to use it, both of them, well in the future. She nodded at Cassion's direction to craft an epilogue to match her prologue and smiled confidently, the expression coming as naturally it had in her younger days, something that hadn't happened as Zvezdana had died. "I intend to, but I have to make the main part of the story before I can make the ending, and that should be as good as the rest." she said, her tone matching her newfound confidence.

She sat down and listened to the hothead and the charmer tell their tales, but her attention gradually focused more and more on the charmer. Something was wrong, his behavior was off. She recognized the way he tensed, the way his feet looked for purchase, he looked as though he was preparing to attack. Surely he wouldn't be that foolish though, would he? But he was, and has Epilogue came from it's chest, Vivian drew her blade and made to rush the other contestant. But she found she couldn't move, couldn't even finish drawing the sword she had crafted, held still by some outside force to watch Cassion die, leaving behind a...Mortal in his wake.

Vivian could not pretend to understand what had happened there. Had Cassion changed places, did the Immortals need bodies to anchor themselves to in the Mortal world, had they even been talking to the real Cassion? It was a mess and a blur and before she could react or ask questions, she felt herself falling, as if the world had crumbled away beneath them with Cassion's passing.

And when she woke up, she had only spotty memories, bits and pieces of the competition, past entering Gilgarod she could remember nothing. Yet she found her desire to forge Shiryu into a great house reforged, her joy in life restored, and her resolve to become a great knight rekindled. She assumed she had Ilaren to thank for it and redoubled her efforts to serve new liege. Then, come Ymiden, her memories were restored and she remembered the charmer, remembered the man who had slain Cassion, remembered the threat he posed to Ilaren. For if he would kill one Immortal, who was she to say he would not attempt to kill others. There was a threat to her liege, and she would not fail again.
word count: 443
Please send all PM's to Basilisk.
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Nauta F'mos Geey
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Truly the best for last. If Vivian had a sword, Tio had the sword! She may have had that impressive name with his history to back up her blade and well... shiny blood may be a new one but it was no Epilogue which was being offered to Cassion. If a person was going to bring up a weapon, obviously the aukari had to pay attention to the point he did not even realize he had started to help himself to Cassion's feast during the narration. Funny that it had the same name as something mentioned in the immortal's commentary of Shiryu but at the time, Nauta did not care too much to think of the similarities.

The aukari would have to admit, Tio's offering by far was the most impressive- and he had to say that as someone competing against the man. The origins of Epilogue sounded even more interesting than this time of prophecy as the latter sounded more worrisome to the aukari as he heard it. Too bad it turned out Tio and the other participants were not even playing the same game as it became evident there were two different goals. Save the best for last was probably right. As much as Nauta disliked the powers, even he had not considered stabbing one of them. This was becoming a dangerous sort of trend he felt.

But at the time of the strike, Nauta just thought it was another performance to go along with the tale Cassion wanted, like the many performances back in Etzos of the famous Doran. The strike returned by the immortal along with the comment of Tio wounding him told the aukari differently. It became good to watch and his seat was the best place to be, no reason for him to get in the middle of that. Perhaps Teesdat was the same as the man became strangely quiet which Nauta thought was good until he heard the scream. To look at a dying god seemed to be a pretty bad idea though such an incident probably did not come often enough for everyone to realize that.

At first Nauta thought Tio accomplished the deed. That certainly would warrant a commendation. And then, the man became a woman. 'Ooookkkkk...' Nauta thought to himself; maybe Cassion was never a man to begin with. Many stories of the age often did not have a woman in the leading role so changing him- herself just a little bit might be prudent. Orrrr from the dramatic performance which followed, it could be someone else wearing Cassion's skin. Would explain why 'Cassion' could not get into Gilgarod himself. Alright that was dumb. The best explanation was normally the most obvious.

Which Nauta confirmed when for the last time, he loo- listened into the whole spectacle. More accurately to the woman who was no longer Cassion. While she shared the same frequency, like Arlo but only a little bit stronger, it was quite obvious it no longer had the same intensity the vessel once had. Wherever he ended up,
"Cassion had left the building..."
to no longer rock the scene with his dread-full presence.

Not really attached to Cassion either way, Nauta headed over to Tio to spur him into some action but the man seemed to occupied by his musing of the horrid act he committed to notice him. With nothing else to do, Nauta headed to the discarded weapon which was still embedded into the corpse and body. "You might want to treat lady nicely maybe?" he asked instead of leaving the gruesome scene as it. His true goal of course was to see if he could retrieve the god killer but it was stuck fast that any attempt to remove it would have to desecrate the body, which would ruin his excuse in the first place.

Instead he just cleaned up what he could and covered it up so no one would have to be reminded about Tio's bloody murder, keeping what could probably be the only thing of value to him out of the way. So much for Cassion's banquet.
word count: 692
But I don't want to cure cancer. I want to turn people into dinosaurs.
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Pegasus Pug!!!
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Tio

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Arlo

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Vivian

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word count: 7372
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