Ivoln's a Rockstar

Moirean

So many new gods! I figured since I shared a glimpse of Slyphe, I'd show people the little peek I've gotten of Ivoln as well - and I hope more people post more logs from these returned divine!!!

Backstory: Ivoln once gave Moi a stone seed to convert her to undeath. It gave her all these visions of the earth and stuff and drove her a bit nuts, culminating in an Enorian council meeting where Dhar and Ivoln rumbled and Dhar destroyed the seed. Ivoln was Not Happy at being bested by Dhar. Moi figures she could build on that whole ex-boyfriend bitterness thing to find some common ground to get help with the Carnifex's constant goal of destroying Dhar.

-----------------------------------------

The Divine voice of Ivoln echoes in your head, "What did you wish of Me."

You tell Ivoln, the Earthen Lord, "Eh, nevermind."

The Divine voice of Ivoln echoes in your head, "You are sure?"

You tell Ivoln, the Earthen Lord, "Yeah, nevermind."

The Divine voice of Ivoln echoes in your head, "Spireans and their frivolities."

The Divine voice of Ivoln echoes in your head, "Perhaps you take objection to My tone. You are My Sister's; I am as open to these... 'deals' as My brethren."

You tell Ivoln, the Earthen Lord, "Ah. Err. Well, wanted to...umm...chit chat at some point about the Underking. The Carnifex are pretty determined to make Him hurt, and that seems like a goal we might share with You."

Thunderous laughter pummels your eardrums, its source everywhere and nowhere at once.

The Divine voice of Ivoln echoes in your head, "'Hurt' the Underking. A goal. As a fish seeking water may be construed as a goal. We can speak. We should speak. We will speak."

The rumbling returns, louder this time, as if some colossal mole were headed your way from underground.

(Aarbok enters)

Aarbrok lowers his head, grinning at you, "You well, Chairwoman." he asks, fingers clamped upon a whalebone cigarette holder as he takes in a redolent pungent hit of smoke, teasing the tendrils about through his nostrils before blowing it out.

A formal, elegant landing. (Spinesreach.)

You see the following people here:

Moirean, Aarbrok

You have emoted: Moirean blinks in surprise. "Aarbrok," she mumbles in surprise. "I knew you packed on some pounds during your pregnancy, but now your stomping through my spire sounds like a damned RUMBLE."

You stare implacably at Aarbrok.

You say, "More work-outs for you."

"NOT HIM. ME."

You are transported by the power of the Divine.

Awash in the desert.

Ivoln looms vastly in the room, the center of a pool of sand.

There are no obvious exits.

You have emoted: Moirean ducks instinctively at the disorienting movement and cheekily points out, "He IS pudgy, regardless."

He is an Immortal of colossal height and breadth, His weight such that the ground buckles beneath His feet. His body is a study in geology, a humanoid shape emulated in hewings of striated rock. Ribbons of limestone and shale race across the planar slopes of the God's earthflesh, mingling with greater layers of basalt, granite, and mica. Ripped across His breast is a deep crevasse, housing a pulsing heart of amber that hangs in the dead space, emanating puissant force. His head takes the appearance of a leering skull, misshapen as if melted by a blast of heat, stuck in a permanent glower. Set into a deeply recessed socket, His left eye blazes with bright, gritty light. A gigantic, war-torn cloak is slung around His shoulders, which tends to flap about as the large God ambulates with power and terrifying speed.

                            (over the head) : a shattered bone helm

                     (draped over His body) : a tattered cloak

"As fat as they come. This is not a bad time?" Ivoln asks, with something like concern, if that can be discerned in His earthshaking voice.

You have emoted: Moirean's gaze shifts up to You, stealing a look at Your craggy features, before she glances downwards again. She inhales and exhales slowly and then nods her head, quietly stating, "Yes, Lord."

"GOOD," Ivoln utters, then freezes like a statue, scarcely acted upon by the blowing sand. In this manner, He relaxes. "The Malevolent's whelps are a complicated people. Tell me what is on this one's mind."

You have emoted: Moirean shifts her weight from foot to foot in a slow, uneasy sway. Her hands fold in front of her, shadow fiddling with steel in an anxious tumble, and she sneaks another look up at You, glancing away again after a heartbeat in a flinching movement. "Uhh....well...." she tries to begin. She swallows. "I...umm..."

Vibrations and cracks sound out from Ivoln's breast, as He looks you over ponderingly. "I understand," He says. "One moment."

Ivoln vanishes from sight, consumed by the desert wind.

A plump rabbit appears just as suddenly as Ivoln left. "This is... BETTER?" It says, through a voice that nearly destroys its esophagus.

Soft and fluffy, the whiskers on this rabbit are simply adorable.

A plump rabbit looks weak and feeble.

Awash in the desert. (lost)

All about you the desert gapes, naught but dunes broken only by time. The stinging wind does little to gentle the oppressive heat, and howls numbingly in your ears. A plump rabbit is here.

There are no obvious exits.

You have emoted: Moirean blinks at the bunny and merely stares in astonishment for a moment. Still, the fluffy....thing seems to put her more at ease. She gives a shaky exhale and tries again. Her voice is thin and her eyes close as her brow furrows. "I remember when You stood before Him," she quietly recalls. "In the center of Enorian's palace, and He destroyed the seed You had....gifted me with. You were furious."

Quietly, you say, "I do not pretend that fury was because You lost Your hold on me. I am merely a mortal, but some say I am clever - it seems clear, in reflection, that it was because of Him."

You have emoted: Moirean gives another inhale and exhale and nods to herself, finishing, "So. You and He...I've seen a glimpse of what lies between you. And my warriors, the Carnifex, well....we...uhh....we don't really like him either." She frowns, lamely concluding, "So maybe we should work together. Or something."

"These days, I try to let such incidents ROLL off My shoulders, if you will," a plump rabbit says, swaying about unnaturally as it is used as a puppet for the Earthen God. It has begun to bleed from the mouth, though it hardly seems aware as it stares off blankly into space, ignoring even the stinging sand. "That said... I have much difficulty letting go of a grudge. Resentment is a POISON that stirs within My gut."

Beginning to deteriorate, a plump rabbit says, "These are not idle words, Chairwoman?"

You have emoted: Moirean tentatively offers to the bunny, "We are strong. Our numbers are small right now, but we want Him to hurt. He has hurt us and He has placed Roan in a state of eternal torment. We will fight, if you....err You will have us."

Ivoln bursts violently from the dune, overwhelming the rabbit like a massive, breaching shark. Gloriously, He laughs, His arms spread avariciously.

Ivoln says, "I am not forgotten! I accept, O child, your deal is sweet to Me. But answer Me: what do you get from this? Is revenge truly so great for you?"

You have emoted: Moirean winces as the rabbit is consumed, and immediately averts her gaze, shrinking back. A faint hint of strength keeps her rooted, though, and she retreats only a pace of two before she halts, exhaling deeply. She nods again to herself and forces herself to reply, although a quaver rocks her voice: "Revenge is...nice. More than nice. But I would not lead the Keep into this for just revenge - we want freedom. We want power." She swallows again and dares a look up at You - and there is a slight fervor in her wide eyes, a clear determination and sort of lust cutting through the fear. "We control souls. He controls them better. We want to change that."

Ivoln comes close, and crouches down. It neatly diminishes the height difference between the two of you but this is mere semantics. As if giving only a mild concession to your apparent fear, He reaches out, but slowly, and pokes you right in the center of your forehead. "Strange. I see a small woman, but there is a very large one inside of her. Very well..." Rising to His feet, he concludes, "I accept. But I will need time to contemplate this. I and My kind do not make agreements of blood or paper - do you find this acceptable?"

You have emoted: Moirean inhales sharply at the touch, but manages to remain still, as still as stone, and merely listens. She lets out her breath at the acceptance and then bobs her head into a series of quick, short nods. "Yes, yes," she mumbles. "Consider us Your weapons - we merely need to know where and when to strike, and we shall, swiftly."

"When and where... those ARE the questions, aren't they. Yes, yes..." Ivoln mumbles to Himself, His subsonic croak going an octave even lower as he pitches into contemplation. "Yes. This is doable. Return to your Spirean frivolities, O tiny one. I will trouble you no further. When the time comes, you will know. I do not do subtlety these days."

Ivoln thinks on this, then tilts His head aside and cracks His hand against what passes for His ribs. "No... HARD feelings, yes?"

You have emoted: Moirean gulps audibly, but manages a game nod and a shaky smile. "None, Lord. Achieving this slated task will be...gneiss."

It takes a long time for this to register, but then Ivoln nearly destroys your eardrums with His bellowing laughter. "Ha, HA HA! HAAAH! GNEISS! Get the shale out."

You are transported by the power of the Divine.

Entrance to the Citadel. (Spinesreach.)

A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats.

You see exits leading north, northeast, south, and northwest.

You have emoted: Moirean cracks a faint smile as she lets out a nervous laugh.

Eleanor

I like this Ivoln, he seems pretty chill. Gods actually being relaxed and pleasant is kind of refreshing! It'll be interesting to see where this ends up.

Ferrik

I had been wanting to read this log for a while but kept forgetting, I liked the little potentially intended pun in the title. Now I'm glad that I did read it!

I love puns and wordplay.

Ferrik-stamp-of-approval.jpg