E P I D E M I C

Once, long ago, he had spoken to a King, here. The King had been a stag, a mad and arrogant creature hell-bent on leading his followers--threatened into action by rage and by fear--on a killing spree.

Khloros had warned him, even then, that he would merely make enemies--and he had. The caves' denizens had turned on him. Dozens of predators had torn him down from all sides, furious with his own depredations.

The diseased horse was pondering his own similarities, now: he was not arrogant, in his own mind; he did not want to hold power, and control. He was simply doing what must be. And he would. He wasn't trying to inspire followers, no--he had granted others interested in his goals a taste of his plague, given it to them, too, to carry. He had thus far left this plague festering in Cetus, in Pisces, and in Eridanus (though, unbeknownst to him, that little sample had been wiped out by the black cub Sebastian).

And now he had come here. This place--the seat of power for some ancient empire, glittering with things that his mind called "stars," with its fallen kingdom, its crumbling tower and its empty throne. And so it will cycle, again and again. The rise of those animated by magic and stone. And then, their fall. Torment eternal. Unless it is stopped.

To the throne itself he limped, feeling the ache of bones that mended only gradually, feeling the burns along his flank where he'd been attacked in recent days by cat and ram. The caves were already turning against him. His time was limited. It was a race, now, a race to see if he could spread Death's gift faster than a stop could be put to him.

For a time he stood silent, staring at the throne. Minutes stretched into hours as he waited, barely moving, until at last he saw what he sought: a single rat skittering past. He stalked forward near-motionless at first, eyes slitted down near-closed so that their light would not be too great a giveaway. The creature was scurrying, scrambling, and with a lunge Khloros bolted for it, trying to snatch it up in his teeth, by the flesh of its back.

He was slower than he had been, with his injuries, but the rat was preoccupied and reacted too slowly, tangling itself in a divot behind a rock. As it sprang free the great thin horse felt his teeth close in its skin and fur, and he lifted it, struggling, high into the air.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

((Ooc note - see this link for details on this plot, or feel free to post 'blind'! I'd prefer Khloros remain alive for another thread or two, but he can be driven off and badly injured if wished!))

She was here now. Orion, the room of the throne and of stars. She looked up and stared blankly at the crystals shimmering on the ceiling. She did not know what stars were or what they looked like. Were those stars? It didn't really matter. She could not reach them so they were of no use to her.

She stepped up to the rock throne and stared at it. What was so great about a stone? The way gems talked about it, it was something of a legend, something powerful and mighty. But it was just a stone. A rock. She wondered why it inspired so much fear and desire within the gems. She was intrigued. But coming here held no answers. Only disappointment.

But then she heard a strange sound and turned to see an extremely ugly creature not far away, catching a rat. Another one to charm? No, this one was creepy. Disgusting. Most likely malevolent. A change from her previous fools, perhaps. She would interact with it.

She stepped forward and noticed the rat in its mouth. She wasn't aware that creatures like that were prey-hunters. Interesting. Already something that sparked her intrigue. She stopped a ways away and tilted her head. "Who are you, ugly thing?" She spoke bluntly, but not without emotion. She wouldn't be friendly or kind, but she wasn't going to be as distant as she usually was. It made it harder to communicate.

"Living with myself."
Nothing but lies.


tags: @Khloros
notes:

Khloros turned, slowly, and only after a long pause, upon hearing Reseda's voice. His emaciated body rotated on shuffling hooves, and lamplight eyes fixed unblinking on her.

He observed her, for a moment: a long thing, somehow both bulky and streamlined, lurking in the dark. Perhaps a predator. Perhaps not. Perhaps a potential ally in his goals; perhaps not. The word "ugly" did not even register, to him; it had no bearing on anything of import.

The rat wriggling in his teeth reminded him of his task. He turned his focus back to it, standing in silence as he drew upon his magicka. The fact that it did not respond right away did not bother him. He lowered the creature, carefully, placing one hoof delicately over much of its tail. The creature squirmed and thrashed, biting at his hoof. He ignored it, for now, in favor of speaking to Reseda. He would answer her. He had no reason to be hostile toward her--unless she tried to steal the rat, of course. But he had never seen reason to hide his goals.

Slowly, he looked back toward the throne, turning his long, narrow head toward it. His voice came rasping and hollow.

"You see the abandoned throne behind me. There have been many here called King, or God. All have fallen. They rise, they fall, in cycles. Souls trapped in stone. Have you seen the cave of bones? Filled with the dead, hiding among the dead, from a death that comes again. This time, death will free them. I am Khloros, and I carry death." He watched Reseda for a moment longer, unblinking. Either she would find interest in what he said, or she would not. Or perhaps she would attack him; plenty of them had.

Or perhaps she would ask more. Some had asked to carry Death, too; none had asked how he knew what he knew, or what would happen next.

If only I had more than twisted glimpses and imagery from dreams--but that, I suppose, is clear enough.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Reseda

Death? Reseda didn't know much about death. She was born from death and she lived among death but she had never experienced or seen death. She cocked her head, moderately interested in what the dead one was saying. "I was born in the cave of bones. I lived among the bones, in a cave where I crunched on their marrow."

She stared at the rat under the horse. She wondered what the purpose of the rat was and why the dead one held it down and did not eat it or kill it. She flicked out her tongue, but the only scent she caught was the disgusting rot scent of the dead one. She quickly pulled it back and did not let it out again.

She looked back up at the dead one's milky eyes, deciding that trickery would have no use here. This creature was too old, too experienced for her young words to fool. "I am Reseda, the dragon of the bones. You bring death...would you bring death to me? I care not for Kings or Gods or the other gems that crawl in the caves. Should they all die and I remain alive would be of little bother. As long as I have bones to much and a cave to sleep and food to eat." Her eyes flashed as her gaze hardened. "But you would not bring death to me."

"Living with myself."
Nothing but lies.


tags: @Khloros
notes:

Khloros stared, listening. He was not impatient, and he did not mind considering each of the stranger's words as they came. A dragon? Yet, she has no wings. But then, she was not the only long, dark lizard to have made that claim; perhaps some dragons were wingless after all..? It hardly mattered.

"In a cave where I crunched on their marrow." The horse pricked up his ears with a soft snort. "Did they all hold marrow? I had thought the bones old... ancient and dry. From many cycles past. If they held marrow still, then we are in more danger than I had thought. Things are moving quickly."

She was asking more of his purpose. He shook his mane and turned, reaching out a long and too-thin neck to touch his muzzle to the stone throne. It left a streak of pus. He ignored, too, the rat still struggling and squeaking beneath him. He began to speak in a slow and absent manner, soft muzzle pressing slightly to the stone. Something about it resonated with him, and for once he sent his magic into stone itself, resonating back, trying to see through it as he saw through bacteria, to see what secrets the old cycles had held.

"I bring death to the caves. Many will not taste death by my means. It will not spread so quickly. But it will end this cycle, and prevent a new one. The cycles must be stopped. We are trapped, we are prisoners and its time has ended."

He then went still, silent as he touched the stone, waiting for its echoes to pass through him.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

((ooc - going to GM tag for a short stone memory of the throne! Feel free to post while he's... zoning out I guess! @Reseda ))

ARBA

Arba had no idea where she was.

After finally fighting her way free of her chrysalis, she'd begun to wander. As it turns out, wandering was very hard. Many Gembounds had attempted to eat her, only to be very startled when they discovered that, yes, she could talk thankyouverymuch and, no, she didn't want to be eaten. And it didn't help that her legs were very, very short, so it took her much longer to get places than other Gembounds.

She had walked along a tunnel for a long while, before finding a cave that sprouted off of it. The little Gemling was now wandering the cave, following the echoing sounds of voices. She scrambled up, onto a corpse, and was able to see.

A long, reptilian creature was standing, speaking to a large, seemingly rotting horse. The Quoll wrinkled her nose at the smell of death, beady eyes spotting a rat beneath the horse's hooves. Her ears twitched, and she reared up onto her back legs like a meerkat, attempting to make herself seem bigger than she was (although she was dwarfed by these two, even smaller than the rat beneath the horse's hoof) as she called out, "What are you doing?"

"I'm speaking..."
'I'm thinking...'

Reseda noticed the agitation her words gave the dead one and wondered why that was so. "Some bones were dead and old, but the best were newer. Lots of carrion, lots of prey, lots of tasty marrow in their tiny little bones, but the big ones were old and blackened. I do not know these things you speak of. The cave of bones is as dead as those that litter the floor." There came a tone of arrogance and demanding creeping into her voice and Reseda had to push her mask back forwards. Sometimes, talking with gembounds in a relaxed manor like this made it difficult to keep her actual self from showing. She needed to work on that more.

She gave the dead one a funny look as confused stirred in her head. It was mad, obviously, raving and crazy. This time, the mask fell away. She couldn't possibly respond to such idiocy with it up. "What are you talking about? The gems live and things are fine. There is no prison, there are caves and gems and bones. I have never in my time heard a whisper of the end of times. Perhaps you will spread death. I don't care. If it keeps me alive and above, I'll do what I can to speed it along. All I care about it respect and fear."

Had she said too much? She didn't care. If the conversation went sour, she could just leave the dead one behind and return to her cave of bones and munch some more. It didn't matter. The gems weren't going to let this be, surely. They would kill the dead one if it tried to kill them. But perhaps she could get an advantage from this situation.

She heard a call and turned her head to see a small creature heading their way. No, she couldn't have some stupid kid messing this up for her! She was already probably going to screw it up, she didn't need another fool in her way. She sent energy towards the child and spoke, with a voice filled with feigned worry. If you value your life, you should run! The horse is dangerous!

"Living with myself."
Nothing but lies.


tags: @Khloros @Arba
notes:

At first, there is silence. Emptiness. Then a buzzing. A shrill, excited yelling. "Ah-hah! It's mine!" it shrieks. Something tickles the stone seat, but the weight is so light, the feeling is fleeting. "'Ooh-hoh, wah, snap snap, come now. Get to work, what is this? Too slow! What is that? Too small!' AHhaha!" The voice imitates another, its shrill voice having done a poor job at impersonating a lower tone; but it found itself funny either way. The buzzing continues, the voice growing more mean as its impersonations went on.

The footsteps of a two-legged creature can be felt walking up the steps; the buzzing stops, the voice silent. The toes of the new creature can be felt curling in anger against the smooth rock beneath.

"GET OFF!" booms the creature, resonating from the body of that which walked up to the throne. "GET OUT OF HERE, YOU GNAT." A hand can be felt slamming against the arm of the throne, the slight weight lifting from the throne's seat in an echo of buzzing and laughter.

The hand on the arm of the throne curls into a fist, the vibrations of the creature suggesting it is angry. Finally, it shifts around and sits itself in the throne, its weight and shape more fitting for such a design.

Khloros flicked first one ear, then the other. His weight shifted between each foreleg, uneasily, as he experienced the thoughts-... No, that was wrong. The memories. The sounds and feelings that were not his own. His pus-caked hide flicked here and there, as if to drive off flies that were not truly crawling on him.

It made him... nervous, for a moment. Unsettled. And for a long moment, as the memories played out in his mind, he fell utterly still.

Slowly, blinking, he turned to face the two behind him. The newborn--tiny thing, whatever that was; and Reseda.

"Where do you think they came from?" he asked Reseda, his rasping voice pointed in its question. He then turned his long head slightly to face Arba. "I am listening to the stone," he said quietly. "A gift given by the maddening fungus, I think? I do not fully remember. Or know."

He then looked back to the throne, trying to remember each detail of what he'd heard, or seen. The buzzing--he remembered buzzing, once.

The black horse stood silent, weight once more shifting from hoof to hoof, ears again flicking as he searched his own mind--and at last, he fell still. He remembered being trapped in one corner of Polaris when the dragon Raheerah had claimed it for his own. He remembered Nemean--or stories of her--leading him away, with flashing lights and dazzling smiles. But more than that, he remembered her buzzing.

Was that her..? Was that the same sound? I can't be sure, but... I think that it was. Tiny, buzzing, laughing--and then the large thing, the greater thing seating itself upon this stone. Did she orchestrate its death, or--perhaps the deaths of the entire caves? Or perhaps she merely unseated its former king. Or waited for it to leave, or perish on its own. I do not know.

Khloros turned his body wholly, now, shuffling to face the other two, his ghostlight eyes unblinking. "I hear a buzzing, and I feel a small thing landing on the stone. Mocking something larger--a taskmaster. And then another creature comes--one large, and heavy, and fitted to this throne; the taskmaster itself, perhaps. The buzzing thing--perhaps Nemean--it leaves, and the big thing... sits. There is a strike of something heavy, just before. I do not know what caused it, or why." Khloros paused, a distant, detached sense of wonder briefly flitting through him.

Am I hearing--feeling--the past? Or the future..?

"I think it is the past that I hear, and feel. I believe the throne... was perhaps made by slaves to a long-ago king. But I cannot be certain."

With this, he turned his attention back down to the rat still struggling, squeaking, beneath his hoof--a rat which he had, until now, nearly forgotten about. Slowly he felt the bacteria pass from him to it, and slowly he released it, watching it scurry away, unless one of the other two intercept it before it could escape.

He did not mind, one way or another; his thoughts still half-lingered on the throne. On what he'd heard, and felt. On the cycles that had come before--and which now undoubtedly imprisoned them all.

________________

BRING OUT YOUR DEAD

@Reseda @Arba

ARBA

These two were absolutely crazy, the little Quoll decided.

The reptile spoke from her from afar, telling her to run. The little rodent huffed, shaking her head 'no'. "No! This is my home, too, and I'll do what I want!" so what if the horse was dangerous? She could handle herself!

And then the horse was addressing them. At first, he seemed to be focusing on the reptile, asking it a question. But then it was speaking to her, and she laughed. "Maddening fungus? I say it's you that's mad!"

And he began to speak of... a taskmaster? Of things he saw. "I was right! You're absolutely barking!" she snickered, not caring in the least what he was doing with the rat. It didn't affect her any, so why would she care?

@Reseda

"I'm speaking..."
'I'm thinking...'