Solo Dark Father

Caesarion questions the truth as he explores the wilds.

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Stretching northward along the coastline of the Suvan Sea, the Cobalt Mountains are the home of the Bronze Wood, numerous ruins, and creatures both strange and fantastical.

Dark Father

Postby Caesarion on July 21st, 2015, 4:41 am

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79th of Summer, 515 AV

Mother, who is The Voice? He remembered asking as a wee child. This was so long ago - and despite Caesarion always forgetting things from way back then, he always remembered the expression of his dearly beloved mother as she first heard his question and attempted to formulate a reply. Something about that moment made him already know that, despite all that was said in the city and despite the beliefs harbored by nearly everyone in Ravok, his mother must have understood that the Voice was not so pure and exalted as the people imagined. Something about her was darker - grittier. But of course, she didn't explain it like that, his eternally youthful and eternally loving mother. She explained it like this . . . "Caesarion, the Voice . . . is our Lady." He repeated the words she began with, staring out into the forest he was trying to invade - this time - ahead of his group and trying to garner some more free food. But he couldn't think about the hunt. He couldn't see the wolf tracks he saw on the floor right before him, or the hissing he swore he heard behind the brush. Instead, he could only think about his past . . . about Ravok, and the Voice, and his mother, and Rhysol.

"She's the wife of Him . . . Rhysol, the Lord of Ravok. Our father and our savior. Our God." She said with such earnest fervor. He didn't understand it though. Our Father? He didn't see how Rhysol was his father when Mhaenies was his dad. The man surely was the one to offer his seed to his mother to infuse Caesarion with life. And surely his brother too. He didn't remember this magnificently adorned man raising him growing up. So, he brought that to his mother's attention, and she simply laughed. She explained to him that Rhysol wasn't his father in that sense, but his father in a different sense. Like a father above fathers. More important than his father and mother combined. That everything he had was owed to Rhysol, as the man who provided him with the healthy lifestyle he currently led - all the bread and the butter, all the olives and grapes, the perfectly cooled water that he led down his throat. Rhysol was - apparently - the master of everything, the ruler of Ravok, which was his territory and domain. And his mother even added that surely he was the ruler of the world, the Blessed meant to embrace all with open arms.

But they didn't see him that way in Syliras, when Caesarion left to go there. They didn't call him the Lord, the Father, the Blessed. His mother warned him that they might see him differently, and told Caesarion not to listen to them. But the first and only time he ever claimed Rhysol as such - as a Father - he was scorned and treated like dirt beneath the feet of the people he spoke to. He was fired from his job, and he lost all of the friends he'd made. He didn't understand. The Lord had always been so good to him in his time in Ravok. He remembered seeing his Voice in festivals and at the temple. So - why did the people in Syliras hate him so? Why did they call him the Defiler? He asked them that, and they claimed it was because he lied. Because he was the ultimate liar and that was just what the people of Ravok fell for. They explained what he did to the world - everything that the people of Syliras knew of the Valterrian, of Sylir, and of the 'Defiler' that was behind it all. This created a conflict within him that would last for years, one that continued on even now.

Openly, he did not follow Rhysol or the Voice any longer. Even in his conversations with himself - his introspective sessions - he claimed to disown the creature. And yet there was still the looming question in his heart. He didn't understand why he felt so connected to this creature, why he dreamed of him every single night. Why he whispered his name when the moon rose and his eyes set to sleep. He didn't understand the infatuation. A part of him wondered if he was blessed or cursed by this entity, to always repeat his name and always follow his footsteps. A part of him wondered if he was destined to intertwine with this creature. He did not ever know. It made him angry - and it made him fear. Fear what all of this would do to all of the beliefs he'd come to foster for so long, or claimed to have fostered, even despite the fact that he didn't ever quite understand just who he really believed in.

Right now, as the battle waged in his mind, a battle waged in reality. He held his sword against a wolf that had tried to corner him, with his hand forward to release Res and obliterate the wolf where it stood. He thought about it deeply and he questioned something: in moments like these, where his body was consumed with bloodlust, who did his heart align with? Rhysol - the 'Defiler', the Father of Evil, or Priskil, who apparently stood over hope? Were his impulses not dark-minded and evil? Would Priskil and her faithful consider them as such?

Why did he loathe Rhysol so much? Because of a perspective that was addressed to him by people that were his sworn enemies? People who hadn't ever lived in Ravok, who understood nothing about Caesarion's culture or the place which he belonged to, which was in truth protected and loved by their Father? Why had he gone years not questioning his malice? When had he let others determine what he believed in, and place 'Defiler' on the entity that heralded his very birth? He needed to think about it more . . . to consider, just honestly, who Rhysol was to him, who Ravok was to him, and who Caesarion was to them. If he never got this closure, he would never advance in his mental maturity.

His Res focused into a blast of wind, smashing hard against the wolf before being followed by a Res transmutation within the blast. The result was an outward spiral of sorts that would outright crush the creature's bones, with Caesarion moving in to finish it off. He'd become a lot better at air Reimancy in the past few months - to be honest, he sort of enjoyed it more than fire. But - that was a thought not well placed when trying to be introspective. Right. "Shit," he cursed. He never understood petching religion.
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Caesarion
Your world was burning, and I stood watching.
 
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Dark Father

Postby Caesarion on July 21st, 2015, 3:07 pm

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He could remember very clearly the beauty of the Temple of the Black Sun. He could remember its domes, its light appearance, the golden adornments and the golden material that made up the domes themselves. He could remember the statues of faces and creatures and other such things lining each side. Every inch of the temple was refined, with perfect craftsmanship for the perfect architecture. It was - to this day - the most beautiful building he had ever seen, even above the University in Zeltiva and far greater than anything Syliras had . . . including the Temple of All Gods, one that seemed to only really have an emphasis on a certain number of Gods, such as Yahal, Priskil, the dead Sylir, and even Wysar due to the large Akalak population in Syliras. All of this fell before the truly profound Temple that lived in Ravok. The entirety of it glowed a beautiful energy, with nothing to ever smear it. Every inch of it was always completely clean. Marble, and clean, with so many carvings - statues upon statues. And the inside? Thousands of years of history of Rhysol, of Ravok, of a legacy. If this was all a lie by the 'Defiler', it was a beautiful lie. It took thinking more deeply to understand why he might lie so darkly when he himself was the Father of Evil.

If what they said in Syliras was true, then surely the conclusion was that Ravok's beauty was an illusion to fool the followers into thinking he was benevolent. But - then that led to a question. If Rhysol could make Ravok so divine and so seemingly untouched by the Valterrian, why could the other Gods not do the same of the more holy cities? The city that had been described to him as being the most evil in the world - his home city - was the safest, the most beautiful, the most refined and luxurious of all the cities he'd ever seen. If it was evil, then why was it so much better? Did the Gods of the rest of the world just not care for their followers? Why did they not provide them with such beautiful lies as the Defiler did? He questioned the integrity, now, of these people and their beliefs. He had never seen evidence of such darkness from Rhysol. Sure - he'd heard of the 'cruelty of the Ebonstryfe,' but he'd never actually seen it. The Ebonstryfe and the Black Sun were invariably kind to him and his family while they lived in Ravok. They were always so pleasantly composed and their wake was always followed by something very fortunate. They brought joy to an otherwise dark household, one with much hidden baggage and competition.

Alongside these thoughts, he pursued deeper into the forest after looming quietly over the corpse of the wolf for a chime or two. He headed to a clearing with what looked to be a large clump of nasty water past it, possibly a swamp, and he figured that it was very likely that this perceived 'swamp' wasn't one full of positive things. He'd already seen what sort of entities lurked in the water in the world outside of Ravok, and none of them were very pleasant, especially not in Sahova. He'd heard whispers of a giant tentacle monster in Sahova, after all.

As he pressed forward to catch sight of what lay around the gross looking water, he uncovered what looked to be a group of bizarre looking lizards. Well, really large lizards. They were clumped around the edge of the water and seemed to be entirely unmoving, but he knew from his experience with dangerous animals that they most surely noticed him already. They looked extensively bizarre, with evil looking eyes, absurdly large mouths and armored looking bodies. The teeth they displayed seemed extremely dangerous, beckoning the thought, surely, that he did not allow them to get a hold of him. What were these things, though? He hadn't remembered hearing about them. They looked exceptionally cool. Then, strangely enough, one of them dipped into the water and disappeared from sight. That wasn't a good sign. He backed away from the edge of the water and observed. He saw a deer around the edge, beginning to take a sip. That was cute. Maybe Caesarion would kill the deer instea -- nope. The armored lizard just jumped out of the water, wrapped its teeth around the deer's skull and pulled it in. Holy hell, that's terrifying. He'd be sure to never go near the edge of the water again. Petch damn.

The Ravokian figured he'd test out the durability of the armored lizards. He took a deep breath, then began to transmute Res in front of his open palm into a medium sized fireball, around the size of your average person's skull. He calmed himself for a moment, then aimed and unleashed the fireball at one of the assumed reptiles laying alongside the water. The creature's head immediately turned to the fire, then tried to dip into the water but was hit before it could submerge. The result was the creature being charred dramatically, with burns covering its armored 'scales' though it didn't quite seem necessarily dead. Caesarion backed further away from the water. He thought that it would be a very bad idea to provoke the wrath of these creatures, though more and more of them began to dip into the water . . . and he could swear he saw bubbling and moving at the surface of the water, coming towards his direction.
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Caesarion
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Dark Father

Postby Caesarion on July 21st, 2015, 3:43 pm

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He knew he had to think quickly, because he didn't want this group of extremely quick large-mouthed beasts consuming him and throwing him into the water. The thought of getting eaten wasn't very pleasant for him, so he of course would try and avert that potential occurrence with whatever meager means he happened to possess. Okay - so, water. Water was difficult to throw fireballs into. He assumed a fiery Res core explosion wouldn't quite do the trick either, as it might be entirely 'muffled' - or weakened - by the water it would be impacting. Wind wouldn't do much to armored animals. So, that left . . . lightning, which was actually ingenious. He remembered lightning and water not mixing very well, and in a way that he was totally a fan of. So - having Res extend from the base of his fingertips, he focused into a beam of lightning as concentrated as it could, though it was more jagged than he anticipated. The unleashing of such a large bolt actually made him recoil slightly, though he kept his focus and made sure the Res didn't turn the opposite direction. Caesarion was very well aware - and very paranoid - of the effects of magic being flung against himself. He always made special caution to assure that such an event didn't transpire.

As the lightning bolt would be flung forward, one of the alligators happened to be peaking his head upward so that he could presumably go forward to assault the mage. Unfortunately for that alligator, it would be hit directly with a bolt and surged with water swelling the impact and increasing the voltage and damage felt by the creature. It dropped dead instantaneously, with the water around it conducting the lightning and heavily damaging the surrounding alligators, though none of them poked up their head quite yet. In fact, none of them would. He did not see a single one rise from the water after the death of the initial, but they didn't float to the top either, which meant that it was likely that they were still alive but exceptionally damaged. He figured that - possibly - this meant that the creatures were afraid and would simply back off and hide until he passed. More than likely, though, with the damage they sustained they would not survive to see another day. He was fairly certain that creatures like them couldn't just lay in the water feeling crippled, muscles burnt, their armor completely razed. They would probably die. "That'll teach you to mess with me, stupid wide-eyed water lizards." He always became so immature whenever he was taunting whichever miscellaneous wildlife creature that happened to not speak Common.

"Anyway, moving on," he spoke as if he had fully regained his calm composure. He began to walk around the edge of the water, remaining wary of any creature that might so happen to try and kill him. Caesarion was on one of his 'petch you wildlife' days where he would just go through the forest and kill as many hostile looking creatures as he could find. Unfortunately he'd been killing them in ways that didn't quite yield very much food. Or, for that matter, any sort of hide. "Caesarion," one of the men of the caravan called out to him. He was surprised to see him here, considering he didn't really tell anyone what direction he planned on going. He just told them he was going to go hunt for food. "Oh, hello," he said, turning around. "How'd you find me here?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. The Akalak man grinned, and said, "I followed the dead animals." A smirk formed on both of their lips. There were, in fact, many dead animals to be found wherever Caesarion went. He was most possibly the bane of Caiyha. "Ah, cheers," he sounded, raising his fist. "We will be moving soon. You should come back with me now. Some of the men already picked up the wolf you killed, for eating later."

That was a shame, though. He really didn't want to leave so soon - he still had a whole stretch of swamp to cover, more armored lizards to kill, and wolves for the next morning's meal. He'd been going too many mornings with not enough protein for his daily exercises. He wasn't losing any muscle mass, surely, but he wasn't gaining much either - and that was a problem. "Fine," he replied, moving to the side of the large Akalak male and stepping in front of him as if to claim that he would lead the way back to the camp. On the way out of the swampy area, he stared at the corpse of the animal and admired his handiwork. "Killing alligators now, I see?" The warrior grinned. "Oh, is that the name of it?" He'd been hoping that someone would tell him of the animal, because he got very tired of referring to it in his head as the 'armored lizard'. "Indeed," the man replied. "They're one of the dangerous predators of this region, I imagine, and any area close to coasts or along rivers or swamps. I'm amazed that these ones are as far inland as they are, though. How unlucky for the other residents of this area."

Caesarion was sure they'd survive. After all, it was just one little swamp among endless miles of trees. The Deer and all of their peaceful little friends had a lot more to fear from wolves than they did from these obnoxiously large biters. "I'm not too sure it matters. I'm just glad that I got to exercise my lightning fingers. It's been too long, my dear blue man." The two of them returned to the caravan, though Caesarion pouted as he was pulled away from what was certainly supposed to have been a wild adventure . . . and a time of silent introspection to question the fabric of his morals.
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Caesarion
Your world was burning, and I stood watching.
 
Posts: 310
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Joined roleplay: April 27th, 2013, 5:35 pm
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Dark Father

Postby Nivel on September 21st, 2015, 12:09 am


Caesarion :
XP Award:
  • Interrogation 1
  • Philosophy 2
  • Reimancy 2
  • Land Navigation 1
  • Wilderness Survival 1
  • Tactics 1
  • hunting 1
  • Leadership 1
Lore:
  • The voice: The wife of the God Rhysol
  • Rhysol: Known outside of Ravok as the Defiler
  • Priskil: might not see favour in Caesarians actions.
  • Nothing beats Ravok’s architecture
  • If Rhysol is so evil why is he the only god that seems to care?
  • Avoid the waters edge
  • The stupid wide eyes water lizards of the Bronze woods
  • Reimancy: Lightning works well when water is involved.
Notes:Nice and short but still fun to read. Keep up the good work.

Additional Comments: If you have any questions or concerns please feel free to message me.



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Nivel
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