ORIGIN

The brightest part of this central cave has got to be the Spire. Even with the cacophonous storm throwing an endless array of cascading thunder througout itself, the giant crystal-clad tower undulates with its own endless light. The storm has grown thin upon this section of the ceiling. It is sluggish and less likely to respond to the gembounds - so maybe this is the safest place for those wishing for a reprieve.

This thread is a continuation of this event.
Participation is optional - but a character cannot be in two places at once!

Participants: Khloros

Khloros did not come often to Polaris, but the charged air and deafening noises had drawn his faint and muted interest.

Hooves clicked over dark stone as he made his way beneath the storm, and unlike others investigating, he made his way directly to the storm's eye. That was its center, after all; it was where the storm's secrets must be held.

He lifted his thin neck and his long head atop it, peering up with unblinking ghostlight eyes at the slowly-shifting magicka churning high above. His emaciated form, scraps of flesh hanging pus-ridden and lank, remained motionless for a long time as he considered.

Is it a sign that all will soon end? he wondered, at last--and was indifferent to the thought. Or perhaps, it shall bring pain. What is it made of, I wonder...?

Idly, almost absently, he cast his senses out, and touched the myriad bacterial life scattered throughout the room. He began to make his way toward the Spire crystals itself, hooves pausing before actually touching its glowing surface, and there, he drew his magic together in a sharp surge.

Feed. Feed, and strengthen me, and see if this storm is affected in any way.

He had no idea if anything would happen; but a little experimentation never hurt anyone, right..? Perhaps such active magicka beneath the storm--and throughout all of Polaris--might have some effect that would hint as to its nature.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

Although the majority of the storm's immense power has drifted from the Spire's vicinity, it has not wholly abated. A single arc of energy moves about in the clouds, and like a moth to a flame, it occasionally returns to the Spire and dances around it instead. A few zaps from the Spire are all it needs to keep its luster; the Spire is strong too, taking each hit as if it were a fortress withstanding the toss of a pebble against it's mighty battlements.

When @Khloros begins to charge their magicka for use, the storm's tiny envoy does not appear to notice. It is busy dancing through the clouds, once more attracted by the lifeblood of magicka that is locked within the Spire. What interest is one gembound's magicka when the Spire is ripe for harvest?

Khloros watched, staring upward, unblinking.

Put quite simply, nothing happened. The ragged horse stared up for quite some time, considering, lost in his own thoughts.

For the most part, the storm seemed to be simply a storm, its far-calmer eye overhead. Yet-... What was that shining thing, darting between the clouds? Simply an electrical charge? Or was it, perhaps, sentient?

Khloros was tempted, for a moment, to sicken it from a distance, to drag it down from its perch within the sky and step over to ask it what it was. Then he remembered that he could simply call out to it.

Perhaps, even, it might answer.

It is likely only a moving flash of energy, but it cannot hurt to try.

His voice rasping and hoarse, he called out--toward the spire, and into the storm. "Who, and what, are you?" he asked, his voice empty of any emotional inflection. It was merely a question, matter-of-fact, delivered with an absence of either urgency or fear.

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BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

The air of Polaris felt more charged than usual. It must have had something to do with the storm, though Mortis could not tell if it had always been there. Its body's memories were relatively new, however, it had the sense that the churning tempest was not a resident, not that it cared. With this volatile storm brought death, and that is what it sought.

It found Polaris was bare so far. The storm must have driven most away. Still, the thin foal trekked onward. It knew its senses could have not deceived it so easily. There were bound to be bodies of the unlucky laying about somewhere. It just had to look harder.

In a twist of irony, the decaying one stumbled across a life in its search for death, though it seemed ailing compared to most. An emaciated, black horse stared upward towards the storm. Their skin reeked of disease. Mortis stopped for a moment, taking in the sight. Perhaps it would collapse in a moment, then it could reap its flesh. However, it showed no sign of dying, not yet.

Then, the black horse called to the sky as if it was sentient.

Could that be possible? Mortis wondered. Of course it was, after all, it and its sister existed, did they not?

It shambled towards the ragged gembound on thin legs, stopping only a few feet away. Mortis peered up at the darkened sky, like Khloros, and observed the churning clouds. It noticed how they sought magickia, especially from the Spire, like it sought the dead for rot. A form of many, but with a single mind.

With it, it felt a certain kinship.

"...It feeds from the Spire." It told the black horse after awhile, not once tearing its eye away. In truth, it did not know the storm's intentions, but if it was drawn to magicka, it would do the same.

"Listen to me."
Thoughts...

TAG: @Khloros // OOC:

Khloros slowly turned his head slightly to one side at the sound of another hooved being's approach. One lamplike green-white eye glowed toward it as he observed.

It was not unlike him, in some ways, if younger; spectacularly thin, dull, and dark. He observed, for a time, and then slowly, with a grace that belied his apparent illness, turned to face the stranger.

"It may," he answered the foal, tilting his long head. He remained unblinking as he observed it. His voice was hoarse, rasping, with a strangely resonant quality like a broken echo.

Is it another as I? Perhaps it carries the same. I should ask it. I will tell it.

"I am Khloros," he said, "and I carry Death. Who are you? If you, too, are here to seek the cause of this. We may work together. Perhaps we are kindred. Perhaps we are brethren. What is your purpose?"

He asked this in the same emotionless, flat and empty tone, as if it were perfectly natural that the other being must have been born with an exact purpose.

Perhaps it had.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Mortis

Through its vessel, Mortis was but a child compared to the other, though it did not see itself as such. Appearance could be deceiving, but its new found companion seemed to look past that.

He had called himself "Khloros" and he claimed to carry death, a fact Mortis could not deny.

The corpselike gemling turned its dead gaze to Khloros. He asked it many questions, all Mortis patiently waited through. It seemed to stare absently, as if the body was nothing but an empty shell, but the strange foal stirred to life to him its answer.

"I am entropy." It introduced itself as. Its voice was young, but whispy. "I seek the dead, the dying, and with me, I bring decay."

It had not come to seek out the catalyst for such a storm, but perhaps Khloros had come to bring its end, in which case, Mortis should at least be present.

"I care not for the storm's cause, only the death it leaves in its wake," Mortis then tilted its head as a thought entertained its mind. "Or... perhaps that was you?"

"Listen to me."
Thoughts...

TAG: @Khloros // OOC:

Khloros listened, and he watched.

"Entropy," he rasped, after Mortis had long-finished speaking. It was a question, or perhaps he was merely trying the word out. Considering it.

At length he turned his long head on its thin neck once more forward, lifting it to gaze up at the storm.

"I seek those whose time it is, and bring them respite. Perhaps we are brothers. Death is a gift, when pain is great," he added, but his words were absent, his attention primarily on the storm.

He took a long moment, and then spoke again, making what was--for him--a spectacularly long speech. His voice was slow, and hoarse, and he took his time in choosing his words and formulating what he had to say. He did not exactly answer Mortis's question, either; it had slipped from his mind already, as much as the flashing lights above flitted here and there.

"If you are as I, and yet birthed into a new form, I will give you what I have learned. First, that there are many in this place who would call themselves God, or King. These titles matter nothing. Death does not see them as higher. They are blind to this. Second, there are many who will harm and kill, to their own ends, as they are designed. They do not see that death does not serve them, and it comes more swiftly as they draw it to them in this way. Many have made enemies as needless killers, and been torn down just as quickly. Third, that this place is dying. There are cycles to be had, here. Bones in the darkness. Lights that flicker, and die, and storms that rage. This cycle, I think, nears its end."

Khloros was silent for a very long moment, before turning his head back toward Mortis.

"You are just in time, brother."

With that he began to slowly stride forward, head lifted toward the Spire and the storm above.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Mortis

It did not recall having a brother, only a sister. Silently, it doubted the validity of Khloros' claim to family. Though, everything the plague horse said--about rise and fall of kings, death, the end of a cycle, it was like he reached in and drank from its very essence. Perhaps they were not brothers at all, but different aspects, fractured from the same being like shards from a gem.

It did not speak its thoughts to Khloros however. The plagued horse's opinion, brothers or not, did not matter to it, for now. They were simply two beings seemingly related to one entity. Perhaps they were destined to be allies, perhaps not. All long as he's death did not harm Sister herself, it had no quarrel.

Mortis knew had been drawn Polaris. It thought it was storm, but now it realized it had been Khloros, for he carried death. Mortis followed behind him on its knobby knees. Despite its form of a starving foal, it managed to keep pace with the dark horse. "If that is so, Deathly One," It replied."Then we are needed now more than ever." And with that, Mortis fell into silence.

"Listen to me."
Thoughts...

TAG: @Khloros // OOC:

Khloros stood in silence for a very long while, staring up at the storm above. At length, when he spoke, it was indifferently empty, and he turned his long head to look at Mortis as he did so.

"Would you like to taste of what I carry? Perhaps you, too, can carry it with you. Perhaps we are meant to meet, to exchange, and to share."

He then stared quietly with his lamplight eyes, unblinking, wondering.

Perhaps it is an imposter. A shade, a ghost, a falsehood that will fall. Perhaps it carries its own death. Perhaps together we might grow stronger.

The storm above was half-forgotten. It was naught but a herald, a beacon that had drawn him here. He had no real idea as to what to do with it, and did not really mind that it existed, nor that the lights were off, nor did he see much connection between the two.

Perhaps he would touch the spire; but perhaps he would simply share what he had with his potential new brother, of sorts, and then walk away.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Mortis

Game Master Talamasca

Khloros

Game Master Talamasca

Khloros

Mortis

Khloros

Mortis

Khloros

Mortis

Khloros