ORIGIN

ELSEWHERE

Kaiale - V-Chaos-Five

It had happened so fast.

Swept, suddenly, from his life of training and violence, of shadowed cavern and stifled air, by a creature made of elegance and threat. Her power had crackled even from a distance, the sort that resonated with creatures of Baokrish's kind. A few words had been exchanged with Master Vargas--nothing more--and the Leviathan had given his final few sentiments: encouragment to perform well, assurance that the beast had been given all the training that this nest could provide, and an urging for Baokrish to enjoy himself (and was that envy in his eyes?). He had already given Baokrish weeks of warning to clear up unfinished business... but now it was real. Now, Lord Dhracia's eyes fell upon him, upon this newest creation. And after an appraisal, there came agony.

Flesh bubbled, popped, melted into black Oil. Bones softened and fell away. Muscle purged itself of solid cells. In a matter of seconds, Baokrish was reduced to nothing, his consciousness... erased.

Yet something lingered. A vague few sensations: the ruffle of fur, the sweep of air, heat to cold and back again. His mind didn't exist, yet, to make sense of it... but when he woke, Oil bubbling up to solidify once again, he would remember it.

As black slicks twined into tendon and bone once again, as mere shadow became sleek hide and pointed teeth, Baokrish was remade. Lord Dhracia did not linger. In the sweep of power that surrounded her, an intoxicating rush, she left Baokrish with but one gift: the promise of destruction. A few flawlessly chosen words to urge him toward his purpose here: to find what lived, and to bring it death.

A final sweep of shadow, and Baokrish was left alone. And now, finally... as had long been promised, as had been whispered to him all his life, he was unleashed. The breakers crashed dark against a night sky, their cold tide frothing around his body. Stars he had never seen now wheeled high overhead.

The God was at last given his Sea.

________

In the distance, along a yellow thread of shoreline that gleamed with the light of all three moons, tiny firelights twinkled with warmth. A promise: a target, if Baokrish would have it.

Within lived the people of Soani'ka--the village that called itself Ocean-Blessed. This would be up to their new God to decide: were they blessed, or were they cursed? The gatherers had long since retired to their homes, simple buildings shaped from driftwood and carved slate. The fishing fleet was all in dock, each family crest furled with the sails. Some were single-hull, but a few twin-hulled catamarans took larger dock spots along the outer edges. Carvings along their masts and figureheads suggested creatures of the sea: many of them bore tentacles, but some were monsters that seemed to echo a dream of Baokrish.

A simple people. Not without defenses, but they were no warriors. Their daily lives were drumming on, oblivious to the doom that had been deposited at their doorstep.

Captain Sea-Eel's ship had been rebuilt, and his family had gone back to sea. They had taken with them a new young apprentice: Toani, a Gatherer who wanted to explore. The girl had wounded herself a few days prior, but it was nothing serious, and the medicine woman Aonae had seen to her injuries.

Perhaps by morning, the fleet would be out among the waves, out in Baokrish's domain--if he were patient--to be torn asunder and wrenched into the deeps, splintering and screaming. Or perhaps he could decimate these ships where they lay docked, and leave his victims without recourse, starving and trapped on barren land, left to worship him in desperation.

Assuming, that was, the God of the Sea even gave them his attention.

The entire world was at his claw-tips.

Kaiale was his, now, to do with as he pleased.

________

Baokrish has been unleashed. His first actions in this new world should take place in this thread, and GM-tagged for, but he is utterly free to do as he sees fit. While the village is visible close by, there are a number of island chains leading to open ocean that can be explored if he so chooses.

@Baokrish

It happened fast- but had it been fast enough? Hard at work, plugging away, Baokrish's lessons had been drilled into his thick skull time and time again. How to hunt, how to use his strength, how to destroy thoroughly. From one beast to another, everything necessary had been imparted, and he'd been ready.

When Dhracia's footsteps graced the Womb, he was prepared. He was built for this, and he thought he knew what to do- show her his destruction and then be set loose.

The Oil sloughing from his body only served to stoke his rage, if only for the briefest of seconds. After that, nothing- facsimiles of existence, dreams of the living impressed upon the half-dead. Or, was he dead, truly? No. Waiting. Still, waiting. There was no dream to be had, only memories from what had happened.

He stood in front of Dhracia. How long had he been gone? Minutes? Weeks? Who cared? Oil reformed and he was whole once more, brimming with a rush of anticipation. But, no- he had been taught civility to the ones above him, and so he waited, muscles teeming with the adrenaline pouring through them.

At her words, Baokrish's jaws parted and a thick, cut tongue drew out to wipe over them, the wet saliva gleaming under the moons above. Finally. He would do what he was meant to do.

And when she left, his crocodilian grin remained. The Valkhound's head twisted to the light, upwards, to the vast sky. He was not the wondering type. It was something to note- this... roof, gleamed with light, with the distant moons overhead. Was this their day? Their night? It was dark, but it could be darker- but, if this was night, he could work with this. The water lapped against his thick hide as he turned his attention down, curling his body and feeling the waves wash on him. Now this, he could definitely work with. Cheshire grin growing wider, his yellow-glow eyes cast out to the inky dark of the sea, their waves reflecting the sky so high above.

With a scrape of his belly on the slick sand, Baokrish powered into the water. This would be his domain. This would be the stage of death, where the primary protagonist was him. Swiping into the ocean, the monster's thick muscles drove him far enough to where he could hover in place, top twelve eyes looming out of the waves.

His target was spotted. Lights in the distance- orange, flickering. Something lived there. He needed to get closer and assess just what he was up against instead of barrelling in. And, so, with the lights splattered across his back dimmed, Baokrish's head dipped back below the water. With only a few strong pulls, he was off towards their docks, streamlined body headed straight for the outer edge of what he figured to be their territory.

Or was that the right word? He skirted around the side to avoid the boats- float pieces of decorative wood, to him. The care put into them already ignited a fury that threatened to bubble out. Such beautiful destruction they would bring- but now was not the time. He needed their death, and so he needed to find out to bring it to them. They may have weapons, spells- were any like him? Would Dhracia throw him right into the thick of it with this task, or start him easy? No. She would save the worst for her best. But she did not know how good he was yet- so, yes, this would be a test.

In the silence of night, Baokrish's head broke the surface of the water once more, twelve distant lights bobbing with the waves. If he risked it now, he would be going in without knowledge. How long did he have? His eyes rolled skywards, looking to the bright moons ahead in thought. How long did he have until the lights drew brighter? Would they? There was much to learn, first, before making his attack.

But, he could test them. He could float in the distance as they inspect his handiwork, see if they send out anything to search for him. Oh, that would be fun. Let them die slowly, with the fear of their new god.

Baokrish ducked back down and charged forward, attention directly to the closest ship- one of the smaller, single-hulled ones. Just one, for now. It was objectively beautiful and utterly abhorrent to the monster. Sweeping woodwork taunted him and provided a direct target for his teeth, water streaming through them as he held his jaw wide open.

The ridges of his back split the water as he sunk his teeth into the wood- only, he was stuck. He hadn't thought on this enough. The boat rocked with the waves of his thrashing as he struggled to pull back, to break through the hull, but- no. It had been built for the pressures of the ocean. White rapids swirled from his flailing, the roar of water rushing through his ears in the moonlit blackness.

Well, shit. He might have bitten off more than he could chew. This was not just some light-weight floating object- it was like a tree, solid and decorated.

With a violent arch of his back, Baokrish struggled to rip out of the prize he sought, jaws clamped over the artistry of the hull.

ELSEWHERE

Kaiale - V-Chaos-Five

The sea was not silent: the rhythmic wash of breakers hissed along the shore, the ships rattling and creaking at their docks. The splintering of wood in jaws, for now, went beneath the notice of the creatures hidden away in their shoreside shelters. Long gouges were torn across the hull, but it did not break as yet.

Baokrish was granted knowledge, if he were clever enough to pluck it from the night: they were not on their guard. They had no one out here, watching their ships. The monster, the God, had free reign. And their ships?

Their ships were sturdy.

This close to the village, scents joined the other tantalizing hints for the senses. And sight, even from the beast breaching the water, now granted greater clarity. Smoke twisted up from rudimentary chimneys. More carvings--hooks, fish, sea monsters real and imagined--loomed along the roofside carvings in the dark. The scents of cooking mussels and fish were strong against the smell of the sea.

Baskets lay neatly stacked up the shore, safely away from the tides. Poles and lines, nets and harpoons, could be seen glinting along the dock and ships. Somewhere farther up on shore, livestock of some kind--stinking of reptilian musk and dirty wool--lowed in a pen.

Fodder--all of it; fodder for a god.

Even one currently fighting a piece of wood with cloth tied on.

@Baokrish

Baokrish had chosen a fool's start to this. He had planned on taking down a ship, seeing if they had noticed- but above the crashing of the waves and already noisy beach, his thrashing went unnoticed, and all he left were the gouges in the thick wood.

He'd have to tackle this another way.

Prying his teeth out of his previous victim, Baokrish let out a low, long breath with a spray of water into the air, slipping back. Right. Start small. They weren't perceptive enough- or were too dumb enough- to investigate. Surely they wouldn't leave these things alone? Whoever they had stationed must be lacking a brain, he imagined, slowly pulling closer to shore.

A dark shadow in the water, Baokrish hovered in place, letting himself bob in the water. Okay. Think. Pulling up once more, yellow lights gleamed out to the village, and his nostrils flared as he took in everything. Senses. He could feel the water. Taste the salt-- the what? No, he didn't know that was salt, just that it was... strange. He took an experimental gulp and held the water in his mouth as he thought, feeling it wash over his tongue.

Two senses down. He could see the lights, he could hear the waves and the creaking of wood. Closing his eyes, he dipped his snout higher as he took in the scent, huge lungs taking in all of the fresh, fresh air.

It smelled good. But, not perfect. Fire- he could use that, if they kept those going. Food. As if he'd need that. Dropping his head once more, he idly swam close enough to rest on the sand beneath the tide, the water washing him back and forth with the constant ebb and flow.

He wouldn't be fast enough to chase them on land, would he? But, their dewllings seemed so small. Baokrish's jaw clenched and worked as he ruminated on the angle, all upwards eyes watching the light of the moons dance across the surface of the water. He could rush in. Declare his presence, let them come to him. But, would they fight? They didn't seem... bright. There had been no detection, yet, not when he mangled their ship, not when he had looked above the sea.

Well. He could try one thing, then. A start. An entrance.

Working up a rumble, Baokrish parted his jaws and dragged himself forward, breaking out of the breakers like a kaiju coming to shore. A deep, guttural hiss rose from his throat. Yes- look at your god, he begged, all lights flaring to life. He would strike terror in them, and if they sent a beast to combat him, then the water was right there. He was at the advantage.

Heavy claws dug into the sand as he hauled himself onto the shore, shoving his magic down into the substrate. He would show them how the earth would crack beneath him, he would get them to hear the roar of their world shattering into the sea as it rolled into the troughs he would make- if his magic held up.

Over the noise of the waves, the noise of the ships and the fires and the docks, Baokrish opened his mouth wide and bellowed.

"YOUR GOD IS HERE."

ELSEWHERE

Kaiale - V-Chaos-Five

The bellow was a deafening one, roaring out over the wet sands and up into the village, rattling windows even against the whistling of the sea wind and the ever-present crash of breakers. But if the people had not responded to this, they would have noticed the way that, suddenly, the earth began to shake beneath their feet.

The rumble grew, and doors began to open in the night. Silhouettes appeared against the lights of dim fires in their hearths.

They were... small, these people. Bone wrapped in flesh. Baokrish would have seen their like--humanoids, if not human--in his battles in the caves; but these were smaller. And, apparently, their vision was not so good, for at first they milled about, raised voices speaking in an unknown language and in tones of rapid, frightened concern.

________

At the first of the rumbles, the old medicine woman--Aonae--snapped her eyes open. She grumbled in response, and pushed herself from her rag-covered bed, annoyance mixing with the first pricklings of fear. She'd been alert, awake, ever since someone had reported seeing the orange moon hanging full in the sky: a terrible omen. It had been months since that event, though, although she'd done her best to prepare... just in case. Caches of food along the mountainside, and jugs of water, though some of the people looked at her askance.

As she trudged out into the cold dirt, though, and looked around, misgiving thrilled through her.

The very earth was shaking.

Ancient eyes scoured the villagers still emerging from their homes, and then Aonae looked farther: out to their lifeblood, out to the sea. She was the first to spot Baokrish: the massive beast on the shore, his dark figure visible against the ocean and--was he glowing? Yes: she could see yellow flaring up along his hide.

Aonae had never been one to hide from danger. These were her people. She was their guardian--in a sense. And so, the old woman--barely over five feet tall, stooped and hunched and withered, her gray hair hanging stringy around her shoulders from sleep--approached. She had her gnarled walking stick in one hand, and she hobbled toward him, terror rising in her-... but she had to do this. Might be my last service, she thought grimly. But to the rest, she called out--though Baokrish would not understand her strange words.

Whatever she said, it was a melodic tongue: words full of apostrophes and vowels, flowing and dancing like water. The old woman waved them back, and approached Baokrish alone.

"Arako..." she murmured, as she came his way, barely-audible. The others turned, and there were screams as they followed Aonae's gaze. Some turned and fled, some rushed into their houses. Some ran backward, or froze in place, or simply ran away. A few dropped to their knees, wide-eyed in apparent worship.

Aonae called out as she drew closer. As she grew close enough for him--if he so wished--to lunge forward and to kill her; undoubtedly, she would not be swift enough for an escape. "Al'ima, Bai'soa... Al Soani'ka. Te bai alahi wei Alei Kaiale, wei Alia?" A foreign tongue--yet she was clearly speaking.

We greet you, sea-beast. We are The Ocean-Blessed. What do you want, with our homes, with us?

Ancient eyes, rife with wisdom and small in her wrinkled face, studied the beast before her. The fishermen had sometimes reported such creatures: immense, serpentine beasts with tentacles trailing behind them, or great singing creatures that consumed miles of algae as they went. But the former were usually shy creatures--elusive and afraid--and the latter, gentle. This...

This thing did not look gentle. It had teeth like nothing she had ever seen. And the ground-... Aonae dropped her eyes to the earth beneath it, staring at the unnatural darkness eating away at the sand.

Lastly, the beast had spoken... whatever its words had meant. No: this was not one of the creatures that she knew. This was a thinking, knowing being. The question was, what was it?

And what did it want?

@Baokrish

His handiwork had spread, and Baokrish rocked back against his haunches, standing tall with his head perched high. Now, for the fanfare. The beast's head barely cocked as he listened, the myriad of his eyes struggling to watch distant motions against the firelight. No response from a monster. Nothing big, yet- and he sneered (or, as best he could with how he looked). Were they wanting to draw him in? Or... no. All eyes widened in chaotic glee. Was this all he was up against? Some... tiny things? What were those creatures called, the ones he had seen before?

These ones looked even scrawnier.

Bending down to walk, Baokrish took one step forward as he stared back at the old woman before him, claws digging into the darkened sand and chaotic grip of magic on the shore. It had spoke- chimed in some language, flowing in his mind. Perhaps someone would find it beautiful, fitting, but all the monster could ponder was the relative uselessness it held.

Besides, how long would this culture last before he killed it, too?

Another step, and his eyes rolled back, his head turning to the side. Would they try to escape over the water? For a brief moment, he regarded their ships, leaving Aonae unanswered. They did not seem to be a race of swimmers. He looked back to the village, contemplating. If they ran, would he be able to catch them? No. But would they survive? Well, they did seem to be rather attached to the sea. They would be drawn back, and he could pick them off as they begged for mercy in their strange tongue.

His eyes closed briefly as he breathed in, rumbling out a hot breath with a warble of this throat. The noise rose, rolled into a deep laugh, and he stood tall once more with that same, ever-present wicked grin plastered across his face.

One arm pulled back, and suddenly Baokrish lunged, webbed foot aiming to slam into the poor woman and trap her into the sand. A roar ripped out from the beast as he twisted to stare across at the rest of these... things. He didn't care for what weight he put on the poor woman- if she was so foolish to approach, then the slow crushing pressure of his pin would be more than enough of a fitting first death.

Teeth gleamed in the night as he bellowed once more. "YOU ARE RIGHT TO FEAR, BEINGS. JUST AS YOU ARE RIGHT TO DIE." Case in point, Baokrish's talons dug into the sand, waiting for their move. What would they do? Run? Hide? Flee in their wooden ships? Oh, he so hoped for the latter as he watched, daring them silently.

After all, destruction isn't so fun unless there's a bit of variety to it.

ELSEWHERE

Kaiale - V-Chaos-Five

Screams rang out, rippling through the night.

Aonae hit the dirt, the immense and crushing weight atop her already snapping ribs, pressing her lungs empty, sending a spell of gray dizziness through her. She couldn't hear--her ears were ringing--and all she could see was the flash of dark flesh rearing over her, moving as it bellowed unknown words. She couldn't find the breath to speak, to offer any last advice to her people.

What could she say, anyway-? In what were likely her last moments, she felt--helpless, her wry humor replaced by desperate worry. Not for herself--but for the Ocean-Blessed people. This leviathan would undoubtedly cause immense destruction... and she would not be here to help.

Nothing she could do could help.

The rest of the villagers scattered. Some few who had not fled did so now: running up toward the mountain. Someone stopped to release the livestock from its large pen, and the beasts bolted, racing into the scraggly orchards beyond. A good number of the fishers, the sailors, ran north: up through the village, around Baokrish, taking a longer route for the docks. These few brave would undoubtedly move for the harpoons that he had seen, though if he were swift, he might be able to cut them off before they could get there--or intercept them as they did.

A scant few people simply screamed, standing shocked in place.

The beast left here by Lord Dhracia was already serving its purpose, moments after its arrival: it was sowing chaos.

__________

Toani had, for a split second, nearly attacked the creature. It would have been her death: she was a young woman, with only her old spear strapped to her arm, the one used only to prod the sand for mussels. She'd never given that up, even when the sailors had at last assented to bring her aboard their ship.

Horrified, furious eyes stared at the sea monster as it lunged for their medicine woman--poor Aonae had spent hours cleaning out her cuts just last week--but there was nothing she could do. It would just eat her. They had to get it distracted, out to sea, killed.

"COME ON!" The voice of Captain Sea-Eel roared in her ears. The rest of them, too--all the captains, and their family-crews--were rushing for the ships. Around the village, through it, upshore to where they might approach the docks from the other side. Toani ran, panting, feet pounding the sand, but she kept looking back: toward the lurking behemoth with its glowing yellow spots. Would it move? Would it come for them? She didn't see it as a person; it was an animal, something horrible come up from the waves. Something they would have to fight, kill. Probably eat, afterward--a hidden gift from the sea?--but in the meantime, who knew what damage would be wrought..?

@Baokrish

Chaos spread in his wake. Jaws parting, Baokrish felt the heady rush of euphoria, booming out a laugh once more. None of them would survive. Not if he was here, not if he vowed to deliver them their end. They streamed away, most of them- but some had headed for the water, giving Baokrish pause for a moment. Did they think they could flee? What could they do from their measly constructions?

Twisting from the corpse under him, the beast shoved forward towards the closest dock. Forget those going for the mountains- if they were going for the water, then they were edging into his domain, and he would simply not allow that. Thick jaws stayed open as he surged for the wood. If he made it there before them, he could try and bash down one of the stilts and bring it crashing down, maybe even taking a few of the creatures with it.

"PATHETIC!" Heavy claws dug into the surf when he collided with the dock. "FOOLS!" Oh, he was having so much fun, driving his entire body into the sea-worn wood with the momentum he'd built. Would they swim for the boats? That'd be a cherry on top of this perfect day. Fighting back? Oh, he'd love the challenge too. "GIVE ME YOUR WORST," he gloated, head careening upwards to call into the sky.

ELSEWHERE

Kaiale - V-Chaos-Five

Aonae felt the pressure lift abruptly from her chest. It was painful--to go from nearly unconscious, on the far side of life and death and darkness, to sudden spikes of cold and empty pain lancing through her body. The moons and stars shone above, and she blinked up at them, her mind clouded but her vision clear.

She blinked.

Gasped.

Cold sea air roared into her lungs.

"Ahhh, hell," she thought.

"Run," she wheezed, but nobody would hear that. So she took another agonizing breath, and in a shredded whistle of a voice, called out: "Run!"

Those few who could hear her, ran. One or two--heroes at heart--ran to her, instead, lifting her, carrying her away from the sea. Away from Baokrish. Toward what should have been safety--but wasn't.

Toward the wasteland.

__________

The docks exploded. There was no other word for it. One support had been torn out of its mooring in a heartbeat, shattered by the surge of Baokrish's power. He'd plowed straight through it, maw-first, and the wood plowedd up and back, thrusting skyward. Planks splintered, shattered, the dock smashing into the air.

But what goes up-...

The rest of it collapsed, sagging sideways with a loud groan of wood before sliding violently into the surf. And with it came the people, those just reaching the dock, those who hadn't turned back in time. A dozen, maybe more, with flailing limbs and choking throats, thrown down into Baokrish's domain. Tossed by the wake of the beast's passing, they were dragged out behind him: nothing more than fodder for his whims.

Unarmed, unarmored. Defenseless.

The Captain, Toani, the crew--they hadn't made it quite that far. They staggered, cut off from the docks-... There would be no way to swim, no way to get to the ships.

Baokrish was left with the stranded villagers flailing--some going for the nearest ship in desparation, others turning back toward shore but most-? Most had been swept right out behind him with the wash from his charge.

The rest were standing on shore: lost, quite stranded, and afraid.

@Baokrish

ELSEWHERE

Kaiale - ONE YEAR LATER

A small seabird swept in with the wind, feathers ruffled by the strength of it.

Beady eyes canvassed the beach. The crabs, now, were plentiful, and so the bird snagged one in a deft dip and moved a little upshore, to the old dock. There it landed, atop the barnacle-encrusted tangle of shattered, broken wood that pitched down into the frothing breakers. Wings settled, and the bird turned with slaps of webbed feet and leaned down, picking at the crab with a pointed beak.

It held no fear of this place. The only sounds here were the rush of wind, the clatter of one or two doors that had stayed intact and rattled, clapping, on their hinges with the breeze. Others had been crushed, only so much driftwood, now, piled and scattered. The animal pens stood muddy and empty, a couple old bones still protruding from the soil. Other traders--the people--they no longer came here, no longer posed a threat to birds.

In fact, the bird had not seen ships at all for some time. Possibly, the Big Thing they had all seen skirting the ocean's surface had moved on, a Chaotic cascade of destruction roiling through one seaside village, then the next. Certainly the island chain a few hundred miles north was lifeless, now.

The bird finished its meal. It looked around one last time, then leapt into flight, flapping over an old windvane that still pitched this way and that in the gusts that rattled eaves. It swept into the air currents, carried swiftly higher, and flew off along the mountainside and out toward the wastelands that stretched out to the horizon in the opposite direction from the shore.

Over the last year, it'd found carrion here, from time to time. It'd had to pick apart brightly-colored cloth, or sometimes leather, but the flesh beneath had been sweet. Now it was mostly old bones, cloaks, satchels--scraps of life fallen by the wayside and left to rot.

A few miles inland there was a wash--one of the big, deep furrows a landslide or a flood had carved into the mud plains after a storm carried it down from the flanks of the mountains. And here there were more signs of life-become-death: the shattered wood of a rowboat. More bones. Much more that it could scent, buried deep beneath the earth and still rotting, half-preserved by humidity and poisonous air.

A few yards off lay a knobbled branch, a walking stick, and the bird lit upon this to look around. One of the skulls still protruded from the mud here, a little--wisps of gray hair on an ageworn skull, a pouch of long-dried herbs clutched in one hand. It hopped closer, hoping to find something--some morsel left untouched--in the sockets of the eyes or between the teeth--but no. These people had died long ago, even if the birds still came, picking at what was left. It was pointless, now.

The bird took flight again, circling, wheeling with a mournful cry, and swept back toward the sea.

Game Master Dark

Baokrish

Game Master Dark

Baokrish

Game Master Dark

Baokrish

Game Master Dark

Baokrish

Game Master Dark

Game Master Dark