ORIGIN - [CoR] From Rot We Rise

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((Anyone is welcome to join this thread, though snoopity snoops may be chased off IC!))

"WHERE ARE-... MY... CHILDREN..."

The Hallowed Callers spun up from the swamp, where they had been feasting on a carcass--now nothing but bloodied bones, its lank fur matted with mud.

Dragon had lain in a near-dormant state as he grew and aged, now a massive dark bulk of armored flesh and pointed teeth. His left eye was a ruin, milky; his body was covered in scars and even open wounds. He dragged his bulk from the swamp, past the offering pile he always kept stocked for The Father, Aquarian, and into the reeds of the marsh.

Upwards: up the hillock, dragging thick tail over the grasses--flattening them--and up, until he was perched on the broad stone that overlooked this small area of Cetus. He gazed out over the mist that swirled thickly over all before him, and inhaled, letting out another bellow.

"COME TO ME. WE HAVE MUCH TO DO."

The summons had been ignored, some months ago. He had waited--the world of furred and feathered things a blur of light and sound above his home of cold, black, still water. He had given them time.

No more time would be given.

The attention of the other inhabitants of Origin Cave had to be gathered--one way, or another.

The first deaths... it was time to begin.

Come to me. It is time.

{ art by dark } ~ { table by aura . edited by banshee and dark }

@Willow @Czernobog @Talat @Merrow @Ghanyarah @Imp @Pietro

@dragon

Tal'at had been spending most of his time with the Big Bog, as usual, quiet and awkwardly "watching" his daughter and son from afar. It was a difficult process, having little control over them; neither of them had really responded to him.

He had also visited his nest frequently, looking for Eve and her child, or any hint of where they had gone. There was much silence in the caves, and while this meant peace... It did not always mean peace. It was with a great jump that Tal'at heard the call and dragged himself away from the run-down spot, sweeping towards Dragon with a hint of curiosity.

It had been a long time since he had called them.

!!! ...

going out a different path lead by a beating heart

Merrow was a good dragon. Maybe even better than her father. She had tried to go out of Cetus, only to get attacked by a cat with more fire than her, and with a huff she had returned-- determined to become more powerful. Since, she had spent most of her time in the deeps of the swamp, hunting and killing fish, eating them whole.

A well behaved member of the Children of Rot would leave some prey for their great Noodle Dad, but Merrow could care less. Her father (neither of them, really) had instilled a great sense of responsibility in her-- no, indeed, she simply did whatever she wanted because she was a wild mess.

When her daddy roared, however, she decided it best to come up and see what was going on. Slowly she rose to the surface, her spines cresting the surface first, and then her vibrant pink snout, snorting out mucky water.

"WHAT!" The big, overgrown baby roared back, her beady eyes locking on the much larger Dragon.

Imp was not too far off--clinging to a tree, in fact, biting at a snake he'd found there. Tormenting it, really, not even trying to eat the damn thing. When he heard his father's bellow, he turned his head.

Worth bothering with? He's Father. Always asleep. Boring, boring, boring--but maybe Bog is there. Maybe MERROW. Sister.

A thrill ran through him; he wanted to fight and bite and play and swim and dive. To challenge his sister to a swimming contest and a fire contest and maybe a killing-things contest. With a loud screech, he leapt off the tree and spread his webbed forelimbs. He caught the air, soaring over the mist and gliding down toward the distant sound of Dragon's voice.

Soon enough he caught sight of the alligator: perched on a stone ledge, and nearby Tal'at, and sure enough, Merrow. Tal'at was Other-Dad, and he'd never felt a reason to bite him, at least. He was mild, and Imp actually liked him.

So when he landed in the muck he bounded over to Merrow instead, squawking. Like her he was near full-grown, yet like her he was still simply obnoxious. He could speak clearly and well, but often with her, he resorted to her own methods.

"MERROW. Sister. We should fight. We should dive. I bet I can dive farther. I bet I can make more fire."

His thick ridged tail lashed over the wet of the swamp, and for good measure--as if to remind his sister that Imp, too, was still fire--he ignited his clawed feet. Smoke roiled upward, the swamp water below hissing at his touch--a greeting, and a challenge.

Everything, everything was falling apart, the tendrils of trust he'd let entangle themselves among the mortal Rot growing heavy, weighing him down instead of keeping him connected. The nauseating hurt, the utter weakness that had filled him in Fornax had turned into boiling anger, fueling the heavy steps that dug into mud and teared through roots. The hunger that had settled in his gullet constantly as a reborn child, only satisfied by the game, hunting the worms that dotted the swamp until they wordlessly begged for death - it was back, for the first time in cycles. And it was freeing, to feel it sing through his veins again, because these mortals that had chosen him for their family were too complex, and he was too attached to tear into them, too reliant on them to die trying.

But they were weak. All of them, relying on a black and white checkerboard of right and wrong, seeing a beast grow angry at being disturbed and hurting it, seeing death where only rebirth lay, intentions when nothing but accidents had lead them, all of them, here. He could say it, now, in their own little language, so stilted and aged in comparison to the one that measured his thoughts - but what was the use? They didn't want to hear anything but what their own wills allowed. The hollow, shadowy mass of tendrils deep within lashed out at the greying memories that had become locked in their cages, setting them free to drop to the floor, withering away until the stone was littered with bones. This - all of this - was wrong.

Muddy water splashed up into his chest as he ran, signaling his entrance into Cetus, once instantly relaxing, now only putting him more on edge. Grandfather was a target, here, too powerful for others to understand. They would attack him. They would slaughter all of them, the fire the bird had spoken of so passionately would truly burn with steady jaws, and the swamp would turn into a graveyard. It couldn't happen - it wouldn't. He wouldn't lose another child, and he would die before Tal'at at harmed again, no matter what the traitorous Rot assumed. A call rose up over the fields, the familiar voice of his father, and Czernobog's eyes narrowed, body switching tracks in a fluid instant. There was no purpose in hiding his instincts behind a bumbling gait and slurring speech anymore.

It didn't matter to the monsters whether you could speak, whether you had a family.

It mattered that you existed.

He rounded onto Dragon's gathering place, slowing down long before, heavy footsteps thudding until the massive hog was staring out and down at the alligator. His gaze was heavy and dark, and stayed on his father only for a moment, breath shuddering in his chest, before he was running a gentle snout over Merrow and Imp, making sure the children were safe, couldn't stand to see more blood pumping through scales... and then he danced back, stepped forward, between Dragon and the rest of the Rot. The reptile had been gone, asleep, it seemed, for far too long to fall right back into their well-oiled bond.

He didn't think too long about what that bond meant, because it would make him think of the zdrajca's words, and once had been enough. "Father. You called?"

Peanuts had reluctantly stayed behind in Cetus, waiting for Czernobog to return. Listening intently for that familiar splashing of muddied water, or even to have the large boar sneak up on him in return. Though the later was highly unlikely, the cassowary had a knack for 'knowing' just when and where they were. A sixth sense between father and son, if that is what they were to be called. Ruffling their feathers Peanuts was occupied cleaning themselves. Just because you lived in a swamp didn't mean you needed to be weighed down the collection of mud and debris! Besides, they always found a few stray bugs! The cassowary couldn't wait for their Bog to return! Picking the debris and mud off of Big Bog's hide was a blast! Especially since nobody else seemed to care enough to do so...Abruptly Peanut's snapped his head upwards, glance shifting about as someone called out. Children? Who possibly had so many children they needed to call them like that!? But slowly that familiar warmth spread over the bird.

.He was here.

With much excitement the jaunty cassowary began their descent farther into Cetus. Crest lowered, making quick work of any and all low hanging branches in the way. Until they came across and into a clearing. Turning about to finally see his Bog! Though upon closer inspection, he didn't look too pleased. What had happened? And why was he talking like that!? Peanuts backed up a few steps in surprise. WHO WAS THIS LIZARD!? Why didn't Bog just eat them!? Kind to think of it, there was many gembounds...was this the 'ROT' he spoke of?

The heavy alligator lay quiet on his stone ledge, waiting, looking down as the others arrived. Tal'at, ever watching over the young ones, always quietly loyal; the rambunctious, fiery children. And Czernobog, grown massive and menacing in Dragon's absence.

He rumbled his approval.

Willow had not come; likewise there was no sign of the messenger he had sent out, the small and colorful bird that had been so eager to prove himself in his loyalty. Perhaps they would come, in time; for now, it could not be helped.

And what was this? A stranger creature, a bird he had not seen. One shaggy black and red-crested, trotting up behind Czernobog with a sharp gaze, shoving its way head-first through the low-hanging branches. Bog did not seem alarmed, and so Dragon simply pondered, wondering who this was.

When it became clear that this was as many as would be here, he let out a hissing and reverberating bellow--his way of taking a deep breath, of preparing to speak. He barely moved as he began, his heavy bulk lying fat and flat on the stone.

"It is good to see you. Tal'at, I am glad to see you recovered. Children--do not eat one another until we are done here. I have a task I think you will enjoy. And son-- and here he eyed Czernobog. The boar had never disappointed him--even when he thought he had. Yet there was something darker and more menacing about him, now, something more predatory.

Good.

"It is good that you are well. You must tell us who this stranger is. Friend, or foe? Family?" The alligator eyed Peanuts over, huffing softly through his nostrils. It looked as if it could be deadly, in the right circumstances. And perhaps its sharp mind could be useful, as well.

Dragon took another deep breath, then spoke, faint twin plumes of smoke streaming from his nostrils.

"The last time I gathered you, I asked for the leaders of the other groups that skulk in the corners of this cave system. I asked for them to come. They did not come." His voice was menacing, here, growling--as if to say, how dare they.

"The darkness holds secrets. Knowledge, is power. We must know the secrets of this cave--where we are. The nature of this place. How to escape, what lies beyond. How they came into being. How the last who lived here, fell. And how to avoid sharing their fate. If the caves were to flood, Bog would perish. If the fish died, so would we. If the lights go out, if cold freezes us and the lakes turn to ice, our time is over. We cannot allow that. We are family; and we must... take steps, to ensure our survival. Together."

The alligator lifted his broad, boatlike snout, voice swelling.

"There are those who would fritter away their lives, bickering and playing and dying in their little corners of these caverns. There are those who would not seek knowledge. Not seek to ensure the safety of themselves. Of family. We are so few left--but we are still the Children of Rot. And we will not lay silent while the world decays around us. We will be its instrument: we will uncover the truths, and we will survive."

Here the alligator paused, rumbling in thought, looking over those few present. Could they do it? Only them? He would have to get involved, now, directly. He did not like the idea of leaving Cetus, but he would have to. What sort of leader would he be if he left the work to the others, and only them? They would rebel in no time. No--he had to set an example, for once.

"We must know the history of this cave, and its secrets, if we are to survive. Yet we cannot do this alone. We need the knowledge, and the cooperation, of the other groups. If they will not offer it, then we will TAKE it from them!" he bellowed.

"We have tried to work through peaceful means. Through diplomacy and patience. Too long we have waited for them to come to us. Now we must gain their attention--and their submission. We will go out, and we will kill and harm those dear to them. And when we have their attention: then they will come. And then we will make them see."

Dragon paused, again, looking over the children of Aquarian, the swamp-dwellers, the rotten and the wounded, the angry reptile-bats. They would do. They would do nicely.

"We will make them see that this is a place of life or death. We will make them see that darkness comes for all, and that we must work against it. We must make them see that their lives of nonsense will be meaningless, in the end, if we do not grab the secrets of this cave by their flesh and RIP them from the walls!"

Here he lifted his snout to the air, maw opening, the embers coalescing and churning in his gullet. A plume of blinding flame guttered into the air, emphasizing his words. His fury. What he hoped would become, their fury. It was followed by a blast of black smoke, and after it cleared, he looked down upon the others.

"Merrow. Imp. Prove yourselves. Go and kill: and tell them who is doing the killing. Find those precious to the groups that remain, and end them, and tell them to come here. Tell them they should have come when first commanded."

Dragon next looked to Tal'at. The bat was a gentle creature--not ferocious, and certainly not a killer. "Tal'at, you will do as you see fit: guide them, find them prey, listen and find who is precious, and when they are alone. Most vulnerable. Or seek secrets on your own: the hidden words and sounds of the cave. I will trust your judgement in this, for your mind is keen. I will not be far off. I must make an impact of my own."

And lastly, he looked to Czernobog.

"My son. Wreak. Havoc," he commanded.

Lastly he looked to Peanuts, snorting softly as he eyed the creature up and down. He gave Czernobog time to consider his orders, and then he spoke again.

"But before you do. Tell me--who is this?"

{ art by dark } ~ { table by aura . edited by banshee and dark }

@Czernobog @Peanuts @Merrow @Talat

Footsteps - loud and fast, and Czernobog's head rose to peer into the swamp, maw lifting into a pleased grin and tail flicking to and fro at the sight of his son, as large and fierce as his adoptive father. "Don't be frightened, son. This is your rodzina." Snout rising to bump at the underside of the cassowary's beak, the boar was slow to return his attention to Dragon, obviously checking the bird over for injuries before he turned black, beady eyes back to the alligator. The absence of Willow was obvious, painful, but the voids left by Isi and Eve were a dull, scarred over pain. The messenger, he barely remembered. Ears perking up as he was addressed, the monster snorted, dipping his head in acquiescence. "Family, father. He has chosen the name... Peanuts," he added, voice, for the first time in a solid week, mildly amused. "He is fast, strong, loyal. Trustworthy." The last was added in a grumble, chewed between rough teeth like cud. The traitor's words would be brought up, and soon, but this was Dragon's show, and Czernobog knew better than to insult him by raising the issue now.

And then his father was speaking, tone grave and words grandiose, and the creature slowly eased down, back hocks sinking into the mud, one eye on the children to make sure they didn't wander off - or try to eat his leg. Again. The boar listened to the words with the same attentive stare as always, but without the glow of awe that had often lit his eyes when it came to both Dragon and the water beast that lurked in Cetus' depths. Staying silent and still, letting the words slither into his ears and slowly translate into the language he knew by heart was a change from his youth, but a freeing one. Even as a child, he'd hidden behind his earliest ignorance, kept it as a shield... but the ruse had backfired, it seemed, if Eve thought him the ignorant son of a murderer.

We will go out, and we will kill and harm those dear to them.

Black eyes widened in surprise, fear slowly churning into that familiar, displacing nausea.

And when we have their attention: then they will come.

He could see it now - hundreds of them, all as powerful as those that had risen against the harmless Leviathan, an animal that hadn't even hunted for a fight. Teeth and fangs would rain down on them, fill the swamp with bodies until the last of his family was dead, and he would never find his daughter, never find the little bird that had given him the only gifts he'd ever received, would never be able to tell Cayenne he was sorry.

And then we will make them see.

Nostrils flaring and ears flipping backwards, Czernobog's back straightened, staring down his snout at his father, Eve's words ringing in his ears. How many more people is he gonna have to injure, is he gonna have to burn alive before you open your eyes? Eyes sliding shut, a low, rattling breath escaped him, and the boar's hackles rose, shadowing his already massive shoulders until he resembled a dark ink stain in the fog. How much longer until he decides to torch you alive, huh? Fire, burning at his stomach, his ribs, extinguished by the thin inner lining of his chest cavity - he wouldn't survive it again.

So he waited to be addressed, given orders, winced at those given to the children, imagining them torn apart, their bodies sent back as a warning. Tal'at - he couldn't. He wouldn't let his brother be hurt again. Dark eyes slid open, narrowing in on Dragon, slits of black against black. "You ask too much." Slowly, he rose, back legs trembling under the strain of the permanently twisted lumbar vertebrae of his back. "You invite hell upon us, father. I will die for you, but I will not let you murder my brother or our children." Head shaking from side to side in agitation, the boar chuffed, tusks snapping against his lower teeth. "I have come from a great battle - a swarm of outsiders, joined together to slaughter a beast of Aquarian's kin. Of our kin. Don't you see?" Desperation trickled into his voice, and Czernobog grimaced. "We have lost so much, singer. The outsiders will kill those defending their homes without remorse - what chance do we have of fighting them all off, unified to destroy us, when we murder their family? Their children?" He stepped forward, hooves digging into mud as his shoulder moved to tap against the cassowary at his side's wing. "My daughter is gone. The friends I have made have turned against our ways, and even our own have abandoned us."

Watching Eve leave twice, helpless to stop it, weak and pathetic and made to feel like a monster - a soft intake of breath, and Czernobog frowned, ears drooping down. "Those outside of us are... savages. Animals. They care only for themselves. If we must attack, we must do so quietly. Silently. Until the most powerful among them are dead, and the weak scatter without leaders to guide them." The raptors and their gigantic queen came to mind, and he grunted, gaze drifting to his brother.

"But I have lost Tal'at once. I will not lose him again."

@Dragon @Peanuts @Talat

@dragon

Tal'at fluttered down, landing awkwardly on a shore of mud that he was thankful not to be water. He could hear his daughter-- and shortly after, his son-- and he felt the fear rise in his chest. They were much too big for him, too much than he could even hope to control. Tal'at had hoped that they would take after their godfather, who's mammoth size was always kind and protective; he was a shield in a world where everything was teeth and monsters.

Not that Tal'at knew much about monsters. He had avoided them, hid like the coward he was. It had been a long, long time since he had been reminded of just how much of a coward he was. His barbed tail curled around him as he rose to his tiny height, rounded orb face shifting to face towards Dragon's massive voice. There was a stranger, supposedly, but he held no fear of strangers. Not here, surrounded by family. He felt safe in his home.

At least until his leader, the one who had tasked them with staying close and safe and building a place where they could live forever, spoke of... Power, of escaping, survival and a dangerous knowledge. Tal'at was so small, so weak, that he could not raise a single voice in fearful protest, he only dipped his head softly at the words, feeling cold. His daughter and son were to be tools, and if they failed? If he lost them? Perhaps it did not matter to Dragon. The great leader could make more sires, it was of little consequence.

His children did not hold Tal'at's intelligence. He knew what lay for them. He tried to hide the tremble in his wings, a weak smile playing across his muzzle. They were powerful. It would be fine, for Dragon could protect him. They would... They would live forever. Tal'at knew Dragon would not break this promise.

Yet something strange happened, as Tal'at held his fears close to his chest and bowed to his leader's words. Big Bog, son of the Dragon, the shield of The Children of Rot... The one who had protected him, and his children, through the worst... He did not only speak, no, he had whole words and sentences, more than Tal'at had ever spoken much less heard Czernobog speak himself.

The tiny bat took off, sweeping the low currents of the winds to Czernobog's legs, and landed in the muck beside the boar. This close, he could feel the cassowary stranger, the one called Peanuts. Big Bog's son, continuing the tradition of strange not-quite-son's in the Dragon's family tree. The bat touched his snout to the boar's leg.

"Thank you Czernobog," was all the bat said. "You are good." He did not breathe a single breath of his worry, of his own fears and concern. Instead, he simply curled his hooked tail around the boar's hoof, leaning his weight into the friend he was certain he had never earned nor deserved but was relentlessly thankful for.

!!! ...

going out a different path lead by a beating heart

Imp had squeaked--loudly--in joy at the orders given to him. Wreak havoc?! Chaos? Kill?! Yes! He could do those things! He would ENJOY doing those things! And what lay outside of Cetus?! Oh, he could travel and explore AND kill!

But wait--was that Czernobog? Bog, speaking? Bog, making sense?!

Imp skittered forward, peering over with his long and mostly-immobile batlike ears slightly perked. He listened to Bog's words, and was half-impressed, and half-disgusted.

"Afraid? Afraid, Bog? And HOW CAN YOU TALK? SINCE WHEN!?"

Fascinated, Imp bounded over to where Czernobog was standing, so bristling and intimidating--and began to inspect his mouth VERY closely, as if the secret to his new powers of speech must be visible there, somewhere.

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